I Declare

Recently, I saw somewhere on social media, probably Instagram, a little saying about which I could completely relate -- a new term, scanxiety. Scanxiety is the apprehensive uneasiness or nervousness in anticipation of an upcoming scan or test to determine cancer growth or remission. Let me tell you, scanxiety is real. To live in a body that has betrayed me once before, and to learn to trust it again is the only healthy way forward, but in order to do it well, I  really put in the work, a big slice of it being telehealth therapy sessions through the Flatwater Foundation. It's been life changing. My therapist and I had been specifically preparing for me seeing the oncologist for my semi annual check-up, and having a mammogram and ultrasound. (I had found a small lump in my armpit.) All of my coping strategies were in place -- prayer, mindfulness, tactile distraction (sticky tape), color awareness, deep breathing -- and still my blood pressure was high (for me) at the appointment. I honestly thought that even with the high-for-me blood pressure that I was doing all right until my oncologist mentioned at the very end of the appointment that she was ordering bloodwork. My therapist and I hadn't prepared for that! I started to freak out (internally) a little bit....ok, a lot, because because because it all reminds me of getting blood work done ad infinitum during chemo, and radiation, and before surgeries, and, it, well, I hadn't considered the possibility of needing to have more bloodwork done. As a good Christian girl, I started audibly calling on the name of Jesus as the phlebotomist started prepping my arm. Also as a good Christian girl, I felt the need to tell the phlebotomist that I was indeed calling on the name of Jesus and not just swearing over and over. She said, "I know." 

God bless her. 

It just so happens that it was one of the easiest blood draws of all time. (Thank you, Jesus, and thank you, best phlebotomist ever!) 

And, then I cried. 

Without further ado, it is a great relief to report that for my semi-annual oncology exam, I "passed" the mammogram, the ultrasound, the bloodwork. The lump I felt was a leftover surgical clip. Officially, I can declare there is no evidence of cancer in my body. Amen and amen. 

Shipping Fun

Again, I'm so thankful to those of you who have donated to my art fundraiser for 2020's breast cancer related expenses. The paintings are now dry enough and ready to ship as seen in the above photo. On my list for today is to take these paintings to the post office for shipping. Quite a few paintings have  already been picked up or delivered -- will  finish up when the rest of the addresses have been collected. There's still time to get in on the action, though less than a dozen paintings are left of the 10" x 10" size for a $100 donation; nine paintings left of the 8" x 10" size for a $80 donation. This has been a very fun project. 

The Amazing Reese and I are so, so grateful to all of you -- those who have prayed for us, and those of you who have donated. And, we're especially grateful to my cousin, Betsy, who organized the GoFundMe. 

Girl With Apple

 

Three years ago, mere weeks before I was diagnosed with breast cancer, in a focused flurry of activity, I painted several paintings, but because of the stress of life at the time, never wrote about any of that work. Girl With Apple is one of those paintings. It's 16" x 16" oil on board. 

Yesterday, I found out that Girl With Apple was accepted into Visual Art Alliance's 37th Juried Membership Exhibition by juror Shana Nys Dambrot. She is an art critic, curator, and author based in Downtown LA, and also the Arts Editor for LA Weekly. Out of 276 submissions, she selected 71 works for the show, so obviously I'm pleased to be in such good company. In the age of covid, this will be an online exhibit only, with the opening on Sunday, November 29th, at a to be determined time. I'll be posting again with updates as the day approaches. 

FYI, there are still paintings available in my art fundraiser for breast cancer related expenses. For those of you who have already contributed, if you live in Houston, let's make arrangements for pick up or delivery. For those of you who live out of town, I'll start shipping soon. Please send me your address if I don't have it already. 🙂

Early Thanksgiving

This week, my heart is full of gratitude for the friends, and friends of friends, who have graciously contributed to my art fundraiser for breast cancer related expenses. 

There are still around a dozen 10" x 10" paintings and nine 8" x 10" paintings in inventory for a donation of either $100 or $80. Paintings should be ready to ship by the end of the week. (These would make great gifts!)

My cousin started a GoFundMe if you'd like to contribute there. 

PayPal is Sarah at Sarah Hazel dot com

Venmo is @SarahMillsHazel

Art Fundraiser

When I was diagnosed with breast cancer in the summer of 2017, my first action was to ask for prayer.  People I've never even met prayed for me. The shared burden that prayer encapsulates comforted me that whatever happened, good or bad, I was at peace with my life, content. I wrote about it here. After chemotherapy, radiation, and six surgeries in three years, I'm more than ready to be finished with everything. To that end, I've been working hard on a return to health which involves taking specific supplements, stretching, using specifically formulated creams and lotions for lymphedema, pneumatic compression an hour a day, occasional cold therapy, physical therapy, psychotherapy, reducing sugar intake, running or walking daily, and temporarily switching to a plant based diet to help reduce inflammation in my body. I've even started painting again, which is a big deal, because for the longest time I didn't even have the energy, mental or physical, strength, or range of motion to stand at the easel and paint. It's so rewarding to again find such delight and enjoyment in creating art. I love it!

Unfortunately, breast cancer comes with a price tag. Besides the obvious changes in how my body looks and functions, there is the added stress of paying medical bills. Perhaps seventeen years of acquired artistic skill could offer a win/win for those who might be inclined to share our burden once again. (?)

Art is what I would like to present and use as a fundraiser to raise money to cover our medical bills. To do this, I am offering original copies of my own work. 

So far, I've painted sixteen landscapes which were copied from one of my paintings that my parents own, and the sixteen paintings of oranges and apples are copied from  one of my paintings that some dear friends of ours own. These paintings are all 10" x 10" oil on board (plywood). There are twenty of the path with crepe myrtles painting, eleven of which are 10"x10", and nine of which are 8" x 10". (Don't remember who owns the original painting of this.) 

For a donation of $1 per square inch, you get an original piece of art created by yours truly (win) and the Amazing Reese and I are blessed by your donation which goes toward the deficit in our budget created by breast cancer related medical expenses (win). That means a 10" x 10" painting is a donation of $100 and an 8" x 10" painting is a donation of $80. (and so on -- I have some 6" x 8" = $48, 5" x 7"= $35, and 4" x 6" = $24 paintings in the works - coming soon.) 

To create an assembly line of paintings is not an original idea. In the fall of 1998, Rice Gallery brought artist Stephen Keene to Houston for a show/exhibit. Keene created an assembly line of plywood surfaces and would then paint the same stroke on each board over and over, until an entire work of the same painting was created multiple times. It was a fascinating exhibit, to this day, one of my favorite exhibits of all, not because it was "fine" art, but because it was accessible. 

Of special mention for this art fundraiser project is Art Supply on Almeda -- they very generously donated almost half of my art replenishing supplies. I'm ever so grateful. 

Please feel free to share this post and/or another prayer on my behalf. Thank you!

Edit -- My cousin graciously started a GoFundMe if you'd like to contribute there. 

Or PayPal me at Sarah at Sarah Hazel dot com

For the younger generation, Venmo is @SarahMillsHazel

When Cousins Meet

One of my absolute favorite things about being alive is enjoying the profound beauty of otherwise ordinary moments. This was one of those moments for me -- two little (2nd) cousins meeting for the first time. 

It's been a good long while since I've seen any of my cousins, except for Cousin Tricia, who came to see me when I was going through radiation treatments a couple of years ago, but other than that, it's been a while. My dad's family is from North Carolina, and when I was growing up, we'd travel from Mississippi to see Grammaw and Grandpaw Mills in Concord. While there, the cousins all gathered at our grandparents' house for hours of play, especially hide and seek, and tag. When I was in high school, my parents moved us miles and an ocean away, and summer trips to North Carolina became a thing of the past. 

Thanks to social media, I've reconnected with some of my cousins, one of whom (Betsy!) recently apologized for biting me when we were about this age. (How else is a three year old expected to resolve conflict? Biting is a simple, effective way to communicate displeasure over whatever the offense might be, especially if one is three.) I don't remember being bitten by Betsy, or anyone else for that matter. But, I do remember being smitten -- smitten with affection for my cousins. #cousins4eva.

This painting is 24" x 30" oil on linen. 

 

Happy Our Time

After a prolonged breast cancer induced hiatus from painting, it's exciting to be back in the studio, and consequently, catching up on projects that have remained dormant for too many years. That my mind, body, and soul are all in agreement that painting is what I should be doing with my time these days is nothing short of a miracle -- to me, at least.

This is another project that has been on hold for a few years. It was incredibly complicated. At first I painted it free hand, but finally had to get out a ruler to help with all of the straight lines of the porch railing.

It's 18" x 24" oil on canvas.

The Next Move

The Next Move, 18" x 27", oil on wood

Full of gratitude for this second chance at life, and keenly aware of not wasting time, gifts, or talents, I'm working working working on projects that have been on the back burner for a while. This return to health (for me) includes standing at the easel for extended periods of time to paint. The Next Move is what I worked on last week.

Another thing that a return to health (for me) includes is running....and Daisy. The newest member of our family and great running partner is a sweet, spunky standard poodle named Daisy. She's a fun little dog with almost endless energy and enthusiasm. Taking her on daily walks/runs is an integral part of my overall fitness, tremendously enhancing my physical, mental, and emotional health. God bless Daisy. (Instagram and twitter followers have already met Daisy.)

photo by Nash Baker

 This is me actively pursuing health. I can't do everything, but I'm doing everything I can.

Girl and Bunny

Trying to get back in the swing of things with regard to painting -- working through my available art supplies and using old photos I've kept on hand (for years, in this case) for inspiration. This is a 9" x 12" oil on linen.

Girl and Bunny

Man in a Red Shirt

Painting this was a happy struggle. The happy because I'm so grateful to be back in the art studio. The struggle because my body and soul ostensibly took the same beating from breast cancer, and I honestly wasn't sure if either my body or soul could handle the work required to paint. (Both can!)

It is always a boost of confidence when a loved one likes the portrait of their loved one. I'm pleased to say that is the case here.

This is a 20" x 24" oil on linen.

Dear Art Studio,

Dear Art Studio,

Thank you for patiently waiting while I focused all of my energy these past three years on the pursuit of living through a breast cancer diagnosis. During that overwhelming time, instead of being a refuge for creativity and artistic expression, you became a dumping ground for the endless amounts of cancer paperwork and medical bills. That must have been hard for you, but you accepted the change without complaint. Thank you for that.

Most days, I didn't even have the strength to stand at the easel, much less the mental acuity to focus on the process of painting. All of that is about to change.

I'm excited to announce that I'm organizing the medical paperwork and clearing out the mess, and preparing to paint again! Even though chemotherapy seems to have forever, or at least so far, damaged the sharpness of my thought processes, I have had a lot of time to think, and consequently, have some new ideas of what to put on canvas.

Soon, we'll listen to classical music and podcasts and create beauty together. I'm extremely grateful for this second chance at living, and look forward to your part in helping me transition back into the life of a thriving artist.

Thank you, again, for being silently affirming and supportive, and a reminder of what once was and can now be. Let's get busy!

Love,
Sarah

Sew What

6th and final (?) surgery - January 29, 2020

Back in February, barely a week after my last breast reconstruction (revision) surgery, I was invited to attend a trip to Rome in late April with a group of breast cancer survivors through the organization, Send Me On Vacation. With the generosity of those of you who supported this trip by buying a painting, I bought my plane ticket before the scope of the corona virus epidemic was fully understood. Without delving into the minutia of the timetable of plane rerouting again and again, and eventual cancellations, the trip was officially postponed until October. Again, minutia, but at this point though I've agreed to go on the trip in October, I've not yet bought my plane ticket, in large part because the ticket price is considerably more expensive, but also, with KLM I got a ticket voucher, not a refund, so I'm limited in purchasing options, and who knows what is going to transpire in the coming months?

Before the trip was postponed, I was preparing as if I would be going to Italy by, in particular, walking and sewing. Getting back in shape after each of the medical assaults on my body over the 2.5 years of chemotherapy, radiation, and six surgeries has been rather difficult. So I knew that if I was going to walk all over Rome, I'd need to step up, so to speak, a work out routine. Many of you know that a very long time ago, I was a competitive runner, which means that my go-to exercise of choice is running. With the aforementioned accumulation of medical procedures added to age, at best, what I do is wogging -- a combination of walking and jogging. It is what it is. 

In early/mid March, I got an undetermined sickness that had many similarities with Covid 19 -- fever, loss of smell and taste, blue splotchy feet and hands, small rash on the back of my leg, and more recently, hot itchy feet and sore pinky toe, but because I hadn't traveled to China, wasn't tested for the corona virus. I was tested for strep, flu, and x-rayed for pneumonia -- all results were negative. The Amazing Reese and I went to get an antibody test, and though I had a faint line that suggested I had been exposed to the virus, the conclusion was that we tested negative for antibodies.

Getting pricked for corona virus antibodies a second time because the first test was inconclusive. 

One thing I'm not is a great seamstress. I am big on ideas and enthusiasm and have been slowly attempting to reconfigure some of my clothes to adjust them to fit this torn apart and put back together body of mine so that I can look cute and feel cute when and if I eventually go to Rome....or anywhere. In this instance, frugality + desperation + time = creativity.

This was a small silk robe that no longer covered me properly, but I loved it so found a kimono at the resale shop and cut it up to add both length and width to the robe. Now, it's both cute and modest. Hat tip to Lacey Crawford for inspiring the idea. The ever Amazing Reese said the old lady house slippers had to go. 🙂 (I saved the pom poms for an upcoming project.)

This was a very cute sweater that I didn't feel confident in because the deep indention in my armpit area where my lymph nodes were removed showed. I actually took this one to the tailor and she added the silk sleeves for me and voila -- it's dreamy and covers my armpit area completely. 

This shirt I totally built from scratch -- no pattern, just a strip of fabric. I sort of copied one of my shirts, but turns out I didn't have enough fabric to do exactly what I had envisioned, so I improvised. If you see me in person wearing this, don't look too closely at the seams. It's a blue eyelet jersey fabric. 

The worldwide corona virus self isolating quarantine is not that different from how I've been living since starting chemotherapy back in 2017. Self isolation is hard, but why would I go through all the work of surviving breast cancer only to disregard the world's health experts? I've always been a team player, and to support Team World, I'm happy to wear a mask in public, sewn by our daughter, Anna.

Expect a hug from me two weeks after the end of worldwide quarantine restrictions.

Happy hour six feet apart on the front porch drinking wine through a straw with maker Anna in the background. Under the mask, I'm smiling. 

A Roman Holiday

Last September, I submitted a 26 page application for a Send Me On Vacation vacation for breast cancer survivors. Send Me On Vacation (from their website) provides breast cancer survivors the opportunity to initiate the process of emotional healing through a one of a kind vacation experience. They empower survivors to reconnect with their mind, body, and spirit. The organization's mantra of overcoming fear and fostering emotional fitness post treatment is supported by the concept of vacation rejuvenation transformation (which) helps subdue the fear that is often associated with surviving the effects of breast cancer treatment. Supporting emotional fitness is a critical first step in the recovery from the devastating effects cancer leaves behind.

The website for Send Me On Vacation clearly stated that just because you apply for a vacation, it doesn't necessarily mean you will be granted one. Since it had been five months since my application was submitted, I figured that meant that I didn't get it. But last week, an email arrived inviting me to attend a  Revive and Thrive vacation in Rome (Italy, not Texas) in late April of this year! (It's going to be my first trip to Europe.)

Part of the agreement with Send Me On Vacation is that I am responsible for my own transportation costs from my home to the destination hotel and back. Since the Amazing Reese and I are not frequent travelers by any stretch of the imagination and don't have a credit card for mileage points,  I'm asking around for suggestions/advice on how to buy an affordable plane ticket without getting scammed. (So far, I've looked at Kayak and Google  search for flights.)

In order to fund this journey, I am making these paintings available for sale for a limited time at $100 each. The tulips and the man on the green sofa are oil on linen but the others are all oil on board. The squares are approximately 16" x 16".

Below, the Sarah Hazel Personal Story is my 300 words or less Send Me On Vacation application essay. As I re-read it months later, it feels overwhelming and desperate. Much of this breast cancer journey has felt like that. I've cried more in the time since my breast cancer diagnosis than if you add up all the tears from my whole life before diagnosis.

BUT.......

Through a great program called the Flatwater Foundation, I've found an amazing psychotherapist, and, starting last October, we talk once a week via video therapy. (From their website,) Flatwater Foundation is dedicated to providing those diagnosed with cancer, their families and loved ones access to mental health therapy and family support. This includes access to both traditional and non-traditional methods of psychological counseling.  

My therapist has really helped/is really helping me with the process of emotional healing from breast cancer. It's been amazing to see the transformation in a few months from abject terror at getting my blood drawn to one of mild-ish concern. I'm so grateful that this therapy is helping guide me through the fear back to a place of calm. We've got more work to do, but I'm getting there.

The last of my breast reconstruction surgeries was two weeks ago. Everything looks good and is healing well. About three or so more office visits to the plastic surgeon to finalize the noobs and I'll be all done! Whew!

Sarah Hazel
Personal Story
September 2019

It took me about a year after I first noticed a lump in my breast, and then my armpit to finally get a mammogram. When you are hustling several jobs to help pay the mortgage so you don't lose the house, there's not a good time, or money, honestly, to schedule a doctor appointment. When I finally scheduled the appointment, and subsequent biopsies, because it was summer and the beginning of a holiday week, the results came back before I actually got a call from the doctor explaining them. Over and over the inanimate results screamed from the page, "associated with a relatively unfavorable outcome". Within a month I was sitting in an infusion chair being pumped full of chemicals to kill the cancer growing in my breast and lymph nodes. 

What no one tells you when you are diagnosed with breast cancer is how betrayed you feel by your own body. The scars where they removed my breasts aren't my only scars. The mental and emotional toll of these last two years has been relentless. My beautiful breasts (may they rest in peace) tried to kill me. If I'm being completely honest, they did a little bit. I'm broken -- mentally, physically, emotionally -- my spirituality got a beat down, too. It's all been so overwhelming. 

But, I'm desperate not to be "broken" forever. To that end, I'm currently enrolled in a twelve week Livestrong program at the YMCA, working to improve my physical health. I'm in the process of trying to find the right therapist to help me process my fragile mental state. And I firmly believe that a vacation will give my emotional state a chance to breathe deeply, love wholly, and laugh freely once again. Please grant me a Send Me On Vacation, Inc. vacation with my precious husband.

A final note -- the Amazing Reese will not be joining me on this trip. It is only for breast cancer survivors.