Thursday, March 28, 2013

Art As Therapy Day

This has been a rough week. 16 months ago a very dear, very close friend, Glynnis, passed away. She left two wonderful college-aged kids and a husband who loved her with all of his heart and never, ever took her for granted; he knew what he had with her and was constantly grateful. Her mother is still alive, had moved locally several years ago, but has dementia badly enough that she doesn't remember that she even had a daughter. Now her mother, Ann Marie, has cancer for the second time. Glynnis was an only child so her husband is the one left to take care of her mother. The last couple of weeks have been trips to the urologist, a ct scan, and other procedures and tests. I have been taking her as often as Ron has let me to give him a break but also when his work schedule would not allow him to get away and going with him when he could. Yesterday was her cancer surgery. It was at the hospital where Glynnis had all her tests, procedures, surgeries, and ultimately where she spent her last hours before she was taken to hospice where we sat with her as she left her earthly body. Yesterday was pure hell for Ron; he relived all of it all over again. So did I to a much lesser degree. Glynnis' mom's outcome from surgery was the best case outcome that one could get. It was the outcome Glynnis did not get. None of this was lost one bit on Ron. I watched 16 months of healing turned back to fresh hell. Partly because now Ann Marie will have to have follow-up treatment. So his life goes back to where he's been twice with Glynnis but the outcome will most likely be, again, better than Glynnis' then there will be some period of time and something else is bound to come up. Ann Marie is 82 and doesn't know who anyone is. Glynnis was 54 and knew exactly what she was going to miss. I try not to question because there really are no answers. But Ron does ask and I don't know what to tell him. We don't share the same beliefs so it's hard to know what to say. I can't promise him this won't be  how the rest of his life is but I can't believe it is. He has little proof otherwise. There were days when I was going through the "impossible" year when I didn't want to get up in the mornings. Why? So I could find out someone else I love died or was hurt badly? I lost four close friends, two fathers-in-law, and one of my sons had a sever head injury. And my friends lost family who I was close to and the shooting in my beloved hometown and this all happened within a year's time. The Impossible Year. Impossible because I thought I could not survive it, but I did. It took a while to not be constantly afraid. But after yesterday I had a set-back too; a hangover from all of the last two weeks building up to yesterday and the overwhelming grief I watch helplessly Ron go through. But I was determined not to go back to bed. I'm so much stronger now that I can remember that I have a happy place to go to, my art room. And here are the photos of what I did today. I feel good about what I produced and that I didn't cave. I also exercised and ate right. I'm keeping my head above water. What an improvement. I will be helping Ron with the treatment situation; no one should have to be put in his position and I refuse to let him do it alone. I have the luxury of time to give and so I shall. And I have fresh art ideas and looking for property in Texas to keep me from going down that rabbit hole again. I always heard the saying that getting old isn't for weenies but I never realized exactly what that meant until a couple of years ago. It's not so much about aging, although that starts being a thing too, it's more about starting to loose people...parents, even friends, and there are the health scares... for everyone. I embrase the cliques of living each day to the fullest and to have gratitude. We never know what tomorrow or even later today may bring so I'm happy for what is good today and will continue to do so with help from God, my friends, and my art.