Redemption

“Redemption” Hand-painted 6’ surfboard

My surfboard "Redemption" was juried into an exhibition that features artwork about cancer by this affected by cancer. See all of the wonderful work in this exhibition titled "Cancer - Never Give Up."
Warning - there are some haunting and emotional works of art in there!
Here's the link to my artwork page.

The story behind redemption:

(A journey through a survivor’s mind)

In a world feeds on doom and countless tragedies, I feel I owe the world my success story. Upon diagnosis, I clung to uplifting stories of survival. I wanted to know that this deadly disease (Primary Bone Lymphoma) could be beat, even if I had to lose the largest limb on my body. 

I was desperate to know what it took to be a survivor, to live beyond this disease and be something more than cancer. I longed to know how a survivor’s mind worked, what they did, how they ate, what they thought. I have young children to raise, after all. There was no way it was going to take me from them.  When doing an Internet search, all I turned up were the tragedies. It was disheartening and discouraging. Much of my journey I had to rely on my own intuition, it was the only place where I could find truth. I was afraid to connect with anyone going through treatment for fear that they would end up being another one of the unsuccessful stories, and I knew I couldn’t handle that. So I chose to create my own story with the support of my husband, my children, my parents (often feeling like a little girl again, having them drive me to my 100's of appointments), my friends, neighbors, my community. 

I would crutch down to the end of Boeker street to watch the seals and the ebb and flow of the tide. My body pumping with massive doses of steroids, while simultaneously being exhausted from 4 kinds if chemo, confined to crutches and unable to express the rage and sadness I felt inside, I found a powerful peace. The ocean created flow to my thoughts. The violence of the waves battering against the rocks mirrored the violence within me. A deep breath of salt air cleansed my mind and slowed my pulse. I crutched home and picked up some clay or a paintbrush. The artwork didn't have to look like anything; it just felt good to channel energy through my hands instead of being trapped in this crippled body. It eased the confusion in my mind and allowed it to gently focus on one thing, a way to express what was going on inside me. And then….I would throw my creation against the fence. I threw it as hard as I could. That felt good.

I tried to remain brave for my little ones, but I often broke down in front of my husband. He was so strong. I didn't realize what a toll it had taken on him until I was free and clear of cancer. Only then did he express to me how scared he was. 

I ate unhealthy food the week after each treatment, indulging every whim just to keep food down. Then I let the medicine do its job (I NEVER once called it poison). I began taking wheat grass shots and raw juices to clean my system before the next round of treatment. I blessed the chemo before it entered my body. It was my choice to undergo treatment; therefore I believed the medicine would work. Never allow something that you feel negative about to enter your body. 

I touched base with my intuition daily through 20 minutes of meditation. It was a meditation where I repeated that I was “healed” and in “perfect health” over and over. It was monotonous, but it soon became easy to click in to it, and feeling surprisingly rested afterwards. 

I had a secret pen pal to whom I confessed all my problems, agonies, fears, often resulting in massive whining. She had a similar diagnosis, is a surfer too and was confined to a walker. We had so much in common and we were strong for those around us, but in secret we shared our horror stories. I didn't meet her in person until I was done with treatment. It was a wonderful outlet for me. 

I remained positive, and surrounded myself with positive people. Eventually the "downers" drifted out of my life, they stopped calling, complaining. New, upbeat people drifted into my life. They took my kids hiking and out to breakfast, the discussed art with me. 

I praised my body for its amazing powers and strength. I continually told it that it was healthy. Later, I found out my broken femur had completely re-calcified during chemo (which was not supposed to happen), that my body even pushed out the bone plug at my biopsy site and started making bone around it while it was floating around in my quadricep. I was flabbergasted at the body’s amazing powers to heal itself, so never underestimate it. 

After 6 cycles of chemo and 23 treatments of radiation, I am 2 years out with a clean bill of health. I have taken the important lessons cancer had to teach me returned to life with a new perspective, new priorities and more joy. We all have anger and frustration, but our attention goes where we direct our energy, and that is always a choice we can make.