So sorry for the bad flash, between one zillion things to do today, serious medication, and cancerland in general, I’m lucky I remember how to use a camera. Not a good effort, but it’s too damn cold to wander outside in my robe.
First Reaction, © C. Ford, all rights reserved.
Upper left corner, WTF Duck and Face, bound and gagged. Middle left, the remnant of pre-cancerous me. Lower left corner, the Welcome to Cancerland Mesmerowlbat. Upper right corner, the Cell Slug, she’s a good one. Lower right, Face – anxiety, fear. All bound in a cell matrix. The cancer cells are the red-purple ones. Markers on Bristol, 16″ x 20″.
A crowded river of screams.
Caine, you have captured the essence of any catastrophic diagnosis, but especially that of cancer. I tried not to use the “C–word” when talking to the patient for the first time. I only ever use it if I’m certain of the diagnosis and have already had time to prepare the patient. You can see it on a person’s face.I had nearly 20 years of experience with breaking bad news, but once I say the word cancer, you can see a person’s mind bolt away from the conversation. It reverberates in a way nothing else does. Brava.
An accurate feeling, Lofty.
Raucous Indignation, thank you very much. I was a bit different, in that this did not hit me until a month and a half after diagnosis. I already knew, I told Rick it was cancer before I had my colonoscopy. So I wasn’t in the least surprised by the “you have a tumor” while still on the slab, but once I went back in to start treatment, yeah, it hit then, and it hits hard.
The moment most everything changed, with a jolt like one from an electric shock.
I have come back and looked at this several times and each time I find it more scary. It is very powerful.
Eyes not knowing where to look, mouths not knowing what to say. The words burn.
Shock and disbelief. And then anger. But acceptance can be far worse and tear the mind away.
Ice Swimmer, Yes.
Jazzlet, thanks.
Joseph, that’s very powerful, thank you.
Raucous Indignation, oh there’s no acceptance in me.
This is very powerful. Every single detail of it is as disturbing as it should be.
I do like the Cell Slug. We’re all rooting for her.
Nightjar, yep, the Cell Slug, she cheers me up. My oncologist liked it very much, as did several of the chemo nurses today. And thank you.