Free at Last! Free at Last!

"...see how the flesh grows back

across a wound, with a great vehemence,

more strong

than the simple, untested surface before.

There's a name for it on horses,

when it comes back darker and raised:

proud flesh,

as all flesh

is proud of its wounds, wears them

as honors given out after battle,

small triumphs pinned to the chest --"

Jane Hirshfield

Well, this moment was a longer time in coming than originally anticipated. I was scheduled to get out of the cast way back on March 26 (6 weeks post-op) and I told myself after my last blog entry..."When the cast comes off, I'll blog." "When the cast comes off, I'll journal." Turns out that Xrays revealed my hand had not fused in one of the three places the surgeons had packed in my hip bone. Sigh! Back into another blasted cast for another 4 weeks. Prescription: Lots of walking (to increase blood flow), calcium, vitamins, rest, and of course, the restriction and protection provided by a fiberglass prison. For the most part, I managed to behave myself. No lifting, pushing, or pulling. But I did "alter" my cast to make moving my fingers easier. While unauthorized (but tolerated with raised eyebrows) by my doctors, that deconstruction of my cast allowed for continued art-making while healing. Last week, after ten weeks in a cast, I went through the follow-up process again and received official word on Friday (4/25) that my hand is almost completely fused and that I could advance into a soft, removeable splint. Let me tell you: there was not enough hot water and perfumed soap in the house once I was allowed to actually wash my arm. And finally! Showering without a taped-on plastic bag! Yes! It is the small things in life that make living grand.

Now, I move on to the next signpost in this journey: rehabilitation and adaptation. My arm is withered and pathetic, weak and awkward. I find it quite strange that it doesn't move; although my logical self understands that 10 screws, a titanium plate, and no joints mean that my wrist doesn't move (and won't ever again), my brain seems to have missed that news flash. It keeps sending signals to move my wrist as I go through my day and automatically try motions I could do pre-surgery, only to discover "Ooops! Can't do that any more!" It is taking some adjustment. As for the Harry Potter-esque scar...it actually looks pretty good. My hand surgeon has excellent sewing skills and a knack for working in small spaces, so the scars acquired in the last four surgeries are all minimal. I've looked at pictures of incisions on the Internet, posted by people who have the same surgeries I've had, and their scars are Frankenstein-ish by comparison. I'm not a vain person but I am very self-conscious. This is the largest, most obvious scar I have (love the lightning bolt motif!) but if this is what it looks like at eleven weeks out, it is sure to fade to almost nothing over time. And if it doesn't...well, the quote above says it all.

Blue Days & Conquering Posies

Journal entries: Feb 24 & 26, 2008

My artistic energies as of late have been solely devoted to working in my current art journal, a repurposed tome of illustrated children's poems. I prep my journals entirely in advance before I commence working on them: removing extra pages so the journal isn't too unwieldly once finished, gluing pages together to make a sturdy work surface, and gessoing all the pages to create a nice blank canvas. Sometimes, I preserve text or images from the original book and I use those as prompts for entries when I arrive at those particular pages. In this journal, I painted a bunch of pages in advance of my surgery so I could skip that step while casted. The surgeon would probably frown upon a paint-encrusted cast...although that would be cool! Since the surgery, this journal has served as a vital place for me to express all my inner turmoil and trepidations but I have also been using the journal as a forum for lifting my own spirits and as a very fun form of physical therapy. It is fantastic exercise to hold brushes and pencils & to try creating from the elbow and shoulder as opposed to the wrist. As a result, I am discovering that my style is evolving. I am forced to be imprecise and my lack of fine motor control gives the entries a sort of wiggly, energetic look. The entries above were definitely somber in tone so on the next spread, I deliberately set out to brighten my mood. Inspiration came serendipitously one day after I bought some lovely flowers at my local market.

Now I am not known for my green thumb; in fact, based on my past "gardening" history, you might think I was cursed. But I still can't resist getting my fingers in dirt once in a while and these "Ranuncula" won over my better judgment. They have wildly-layered petals in these incredibly saturated colors. That evening, I unconsciously began working on a journal spread that mirrored the flowers I had welcomed home to my front door. I really didn't realize the flowers' influence until I was finished and I recognized a similarity between my purchase and my art.

Journal Entry: March 6, 2008:

This project took a few days but aside from the sticker letter title and a couple of rub-ons (I am all about the rub-ons!!,) the painting and doodling is all me. I used acrylics, while gel pen, Sharpies, Staz-On, colored pencils for dark surfaces...a little bit of everything. In retrospect, I think it isn't too shabby given my current level of ability. The journaling is still a bit morose (I'm glad scans and photos blur out my writing) but in the end, these pages did indeed fill me with joy. I am a huge fan of fuschia-pink, sunlight-yellow, and pumpkin-orange so the pages turned out rather soaked in color. As a final touch, I added a couple busy little bumbles buzzing across the pages. It felt good to just play and allow myself to enjoy the process without concern for what artistic skills might now be compromised or lost completely. Actually, I found this piece very revealing: despite all my reservations, deep-down, I think I believe now that all will be okay in the end.

Infinitely Better than Purple

Following my right wrist fusion surgery on February 11, I was trapped in a bulky plaster, gauze, and elastic wrap dressing for 10 days. Then I made the 6 and one-half hour trek down to see my surgeon and received a shiny new purple cast. The doctor was running four hours (!!!!) behind schedule and they had settled me in the cast room, removed the dressing and then the stitches an hour after that and then...I sat there. Eventually, my surgeon wandered in, eyeballed the incision and ordered the new cast. I had had plenty of time to stare at all the possible cast colors, samples of which were displayed on a wall, wrapped around an old cane. Fire engine red, deep blue, some pastels and the most nasty array of florescent colors imaginable. Neon orange would have made me look as if I was wearing a road cone! Ultimately, I chose purple...my first colored cast in 6 surgeries. It looked really pretty - if such things can be pretty but it wasn't "installed" correctly and after a week, I had to have it removed and replaced by a doctor friend of mine. Plain ole white fiberglass...the kind of cast that starts to look very yucky in a very short period of time...bulky, heavy...an all-around pain in the $#@! However, add in a bunch of drawings by my cartooning students and of course, my own budding artist (his little alien dude named Splurg can be seen right by my thumb) and you start to have something a little bit more bearable. A couple of evenings later, I was sitting at my studio table, sponging Staz-On onto a journal page and eyeballing my teen sitting gluing to his computer game. I must have sort of glazed over, pausing in mid-sponge. Daniel looked at me and I glanced down at my cast. Hmmm...vibrant, lively permanent ink...hard, ugly, white surface...the nerve endings in my brain made the connection and I began to sponge ink onto my cast, tentatively at first but then gleefully, wildly. I also ending up doodling with Sharpies and stamping here and there. My son rolled his eyes (as only a teenager can) and laughed, saying "Well, it was only a matter of time." Indeed.

In other matters, I have been journaling like crazy...which means each entry is only taking me two days instead of three. I have lots of pages photographed but I need to get the photos resized and fit for posting. Stay tuned! More art coming!

impertinences of fate

Journal page for Feb 23, 2008:

"The one resolution, which was in my mind long before it took the form of a resolution, is the keynote of my life. It is this, always to regard as mere impertinences of fate, the handicaps which were placed upon my life almost at the beginning. I resolved that they should not crush or dwarf my soul, but rather, be made to blossom, like Aaron's rod, with flowers."
Helen Keller

returning to art bit by tiny bit

Journal page for February 22, 2008:

...my post-surgerical days are progressing very slowly...battling some anxiety, depression...lots of pain and medication side effects...but i am pushing my hand hard to recover fine motor skills. any range of motion and strength lost in these early days will be almost impossible to regain fully once out of the cast. 3 days after surgery, i pulled back the gauze from between my thumb & index finger so i could work on my pinch. today is the two-week mark and i can gingerly use scissors and write with semi-legible results. i can color, doodle, glue and paint with both hands. i try to use my left hand whenever possible (i'll post in the future about the tricks of one-handed journaling). it is all very painful and by the end of the day, i regret moving at all but i find it is important to soothe my soul with a bit of art journaling...it takes all day to complete one entry...in between naps and crying jags...but i do feel a small sense of triumph when i can look at a completed page before bedtime. my journal has become a cherished place to air my wild worries, simmering sadness, and most importantly, whisper-soft, positive self-talk that needs a forum to become strong and loud and fierce so it can sustain me in the months to come.

P.S. Thank you so very much for any and all well wishes and comments...i can't respond to comments right now...mostly because Blogger doesn't have an email track-back feature (i have to dig around to find someone's email if not specfically written into a comment) but also because i'm conserving my typing energies for posting. so please don't take offense if i don't comment on a comment. thanks for reading and sticking with the lost coast post through its fits of starts & stops...