Red

Red

What? A red pear. How strange and

delightful. No yellow, No green, No orange.

Thats right Just RED!

$80

7x5 acrylic on canvas panel

Gee, she's really...um, fat. REALLY?

This was my first time of actually trying to figure out how fat is distributed across the body. Once upon a time, I thought if I just added a gut onto a character, they'd become believably fat. Sadly, this is not the case...for anyone.

Fat is distributed pretty much all across the body. In this chart, the male remains the same height and head size, but they grow wider all over. It would look odd if the person had a large belly, but well toned arms. What's most especially important is that the legs remain proportionate enough to hold up the body (when a morbidly obese person becomes tired due to walking and running though, they will feel it in the legs, but this is also due to the metabolism and energy level; the legs--though fat is weaker than muscle--are still proportionally sound). You might have heard of the term "big-boned." Everyone knows this is just a joke, but while drawing this diagram, I found it interesting that the skeletal structure is basically the same as the body grows.

One thing I want to also point out is something I noticed a few years ago in art school. While the idealized human body is a beautiful thing, there is also a sense of beauty I can't help but love in the way the human body adds fat. When fat grows on a body, the body has large gentle curves as opposed to the various bends and knobs that muscles accentuate. With more weight, rolls start to form, which form incredibly beautiful lines across the torso that would never be seen on a lean figure. Artists have focussed for millennia on the idealized human figure (which changes from time to time), but perhaps one of the most under-appreciated forms of beauty is the obese figure.

Bendamustine Cycle 2

It was last Monday at 6:30pm that the (212) area code came through on my phone. New York. Craig and I were cozied on the couch already beginning evening news watching routine. I conceded to the fact that I wouldn’t be getting Bendamustine treatment the next morning at 8am as scheduled. That day my local bloodwork check revealed a platelet count of 65. It had risen only 8 over the last five days. How could they expect it to jump to the required 75 in just a day?

I was wrong. My nurse, Brynn, called and said that the team still wanted me to come to the Sloan clinic the following morning. She said that I would think she was crazy, but that she was passing on the word exactly from Dr. Moskowitz’s mouth.

“We got your bloodwork today and see that it’s still low, but we’re going to try something,” she said. “I’m being for real. Right before you get your finger pricked we want you to jump up and down for 15 seconds.”

I told her that yes, that was random, but that I’d do it for sure; that’d I’d do handstands, cartwheels, jumping jacks, whatever it took to be able to get the treatment that I needed. She explained that some of the oncologists had discovered that getting the heart rate up immediately before the blood is drawn can have an endorphin effect which can spike the platelet results. The act can shake things up and force the cells to multiply – if only temporarily. It had worked for another woman on my study and we were hopeful that it would for me to.

So, we grabbed our now nearly permanently packed bags and were on the 7:57pm train to New York City. We didn’t want to deal with a 4am wakeup the next day and luckily had not yet canceled our Miracle House reservation.

Tuesday morning I pulled on my jumping boots and we made the trek across Manhattan. While waiting for my name to be called, Craig pulled me into a side hallway. Little did I know, he had queued up the Rocky theme and was very serious in his coaching role. “Gonna Fly Now” played through his iPhone and he encouraged me to start bouncing. I did a combination of awkward jumping jacks and aerobic steps all the while knowing patients, doctors, nurses could turn the corner at any moment to find the Richard Simmons worthy scene we were creating. He had me going until I broke a sweat and had to strip down to a t-shirt. I was pumped.

Then we heard my name. I explained to the lab tech that I needed to do a few more jumping jacks while she laid out the needle, gauze and Band-Aid.

“Oh sure; whatever it takes,” she exclaimed excitedly and began to dance and laugh right along with me.

I upped the 15 second recommendation to 1:30 seconds watching the red second hand tick as I flayed about then plopped into the chair for the finger prick. The tech was ready with the needle and vile.

Craig and I waited anxiously under the blinding white lights of the doctor’s exam room.

The door opened slowly and in popped a red faced and beaming Dr. Moskowitz who proclaimed: “Happy Thansgiving! You’re getting treatment!"

We all cheered like goofballs as she read the lab results with the platelet count of 78. Brynn poked in to give a yelp as well. Dr. Moskowitz then revealed to me that had it taken one more day for my platelets to reach 75 I would have had to been pulled off the study. I don’t even want to think about what that would have meant as this is the drug that I need. There are very, very few – if any – other tricks in the bag. I am glad that I didn’t know this tidbit beforehand. That was a very wise omission of info on her part as I had been uneasy enough about being off treatment for seven weeks.

It was so odd to want something so desperately that I knew would leave me hurting so badly. It was a massive relief for all of us. Besides that nagging desire to live, scientifically, the team at Sloan of course wants me on the study so that they can watch me meet success, so that they can prove that this course of treatment works and so that they can help other patients in the future. It’s strange to think of myself in these terms and of course these are not terms ever spoken by my medical team, but I am a rare scientific specimen. I am in a clinical trial for a reason. They need my data. They need to study me. I need to live and I am putting my life in the hands of this medical science. I am more than willing to do whatever it takes and hope that everything that I am going through will make it that much easier for the next person.

The chemo infusion itself went without a hitch. Dr. Moskowitz ordered a slightly reduced dosage, which the study allows for in the second round. The Benadryl they require made me groggy and woozy but the 40 minutes went quickly.

Riding the usual steroid induced high, Craig and I did some exploring in the city’s design district. We spent hours perusing through the visual wonderland that is ABC Carpet and Home taking in floor after floor of creative, artistic interior décor. Every single thing in that place is a conversation piece in and of itself. Then we snacked on rock hard NYC pretzels from a cart and stumbled upon a huge open-air holiday market in Union Square. Under every tent was a different artisan with something mind bending, intriguing and unique to explore.

Suddenly the steroids wore off and the Bendamustine in. My legs started to swell and give out and my head became very heavy. It was time for my prince to escort me “home.” Both chilled and flushed from the long day I burrowed into the bed covers in our Miracle House room to indulge in a much needed before-dinner nap.

We then gathered with a group of nearly 20 other patients and caregivers staying at MH that evening for our biggest group dinner yet. We all ducked out from the cold November air and into the reserved tables at Pom Pom diner. We shared a booth with a fascinating woman from Nebraska who is a calligrapher, an educator and an arts and books lover among many things. We had very much in common, and it was comforting to hear about what she’s learned and experienced through taking care of her ailing father – a retired English professor. There were many others there too. Some knew already that they would remain in the city through the holiday. Others were packing up to make the trek home to their families with plans to come back for their next treatments, procedures, and adventures.

On top of the post-chemo symptoms, a cold had set in and my nose was continually running just as much as I was sneezing. Sleep was hard to come by and my nose had become raw from the continual tissue rubbing. But it was up and at ‘em early again on Thanksgiving Eve for infusion number two. My ever- patient husband waited away the hours with me as my chemo was mixed until I was finally “served.”

The train ride home was packed wall to wall with people, baby strollers, suitcases, and shopping bags. Every seat was taken and even the vestibules were full all the way along the New Haven line. We were fortunate to have gotten to Grand Central early enough to get a seat of our own. It was a beautiful thing to watch the human dynamics. Despite how cramped it was, I witnessed so many people helping to hoist others’ bags on the racks above their heads, giving up seats for the elderly, helping women with strollers to navigate between the cars. It made me smile between sneezes and chemo flush waves to think about who and where they were traveling to and what it would be like when they got there. Would their Thanksgiving table be a Turdukin or a Tofurkey table? How long had it been since they’d seen their families last? Were they looking forward to or dreading the reunions?

Despite how awful I felt and how desperately I wanted to be curled with Sammy on my couch, my chest was filled with a palpable fullness of contentment and astounding gratefulness to have my husband’s shoulder to sleep on and so many more loved ones to look forward to sharing the holiday with.

Lean On Me

Lean On Me

Both standing at the beginning. A rambunctious child runs

by and bumps the table. One pear tumbles over onto the

other. The pear still standing says "It's ok

honey just Lean On Me"

5x7 acrylic on panel board

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Half Pint

Half Pint

This little crate was full but someone took one.

Now even tho in a pint container it is just a measly

half pint.

7x5 acrylic on canvas panel

Available Jc Morgan Art Gallery, Oxford , Al 36203

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Baby Buck

A baby with spots roams the

chilly countryside to find his mom who

is of course close by.

7x5 acrylic on canvas panel

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Giving Thanks......

Bell Peppers

Bell Peppers

Red, Green and Yellow are the colors and flavors of these

delicious vegetables. Sweet yet unique they add zest to any dish.

7x5 acrylic on canvas panel

By artist Angela Sullivan

Available through JC Morgan Art Gallery, Oxford, Al.36203

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Mop Top

Happy Thanksgiving

Mop Top

Guess what I am. A rooster you goof. I am a rooster.

 No I didn't get to choose my hair. I would prefer a cool

well manicured style but instead I am stuck with this.

Go ahead and laugh why don't you?

7x5 acrylic on canvas panel

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Watching The Flock

Watching The Flock

A little boy squats down by his pet.

He is inside the pen waiting patiently as he

watches his flock.

10x8 acrylic on panel board

$124

A moment in time.....

In A Jar

In A Jar

The beauty of red flowers are parrelled only by the

beauty and simplicity of the jar. The jar which catches the

light just so....

8x6 acrylic on canvas panel.

SOLD

Christmas Blessings

Christmas Blessings

It's winter. It is cold outside. The snow is crisp in the meadow and

the sound of church bells can be heard far away ringing the bells

that tell all of Christmas Blessings.

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Supercalafragalisticexpialadoshus

It is something to say when you just don't know what to say, states Mary Poppins. So I am saying: "Supercalafragalisticexpialadoshus." It at once satisfies the craving for an expletive and for utter nonsense. The situation I'm going through is nonsensical. There are no answers and there are no words, so I'm saying this one loud and don't care if I sound precocious.

Turns out that my mom and I enjoyed another mini vaca rather than a treatment ordeal in New York City. This time: a 45-minute drive to my parent's house; a 40-minute drive to the train station; a two hour-15 minute train ride; a 20-minute taxi ride to drop our suitcases at Miracle House and a 35-minute taxi ride across Manhattan to Sloan-Kettering for my appointment – all the while hopeful that my doctor's visit would be followed by chemo treatment.

However, the timing just still wasn't right. A finger prick blood work report revealed that my platelets still hadn't risen high enough to be able to receive another chemo dose. The number needs to be at 75,000. I was at 56,000. My oncologist kept expressing how badly she felt that I made the trek all the way in, but that she had been optimistic even after receiving the blood work report I had gotten locally the day before. I was at a count of 50,000 then, so at least I am on the upswing. She had wanted to see me anyway and I had wanted to see her as well. It was good to check in and talk some things out even though there was no chemo to be had.

The plan is to try again next week. This will now be week 7 of recovery. I'll have my blood work checked locally on Monday and if my bone marrow has done its job over the weekend, I am scheduled for chemo in New York on Tuesday and Wednesday. If my counts haven't hit the mark by Monday, we'll check again Tuesday and aim for chemo Wednesday and Friday. Sloan-Kettering doesn't administer chemo on just two days a year: Thanksgiving and Christmas, so they'll have to get an exception approved for me to go off of study protocol and have a day between treatments if the latter chemo plan is the case. I don't yet know what this will mean for turkey day with our families.

In talking with Dr. Moskowitz, it turns out that I am not alone in this conundrum, that several people on the clinical trial are experiencing the same challenge of slow platelet recoveries. In fact, she said that if they could rewrite the study with a smaller dose of Bendamustine with the data that they now have, they would. All of the 29 people on this study with me have been through many, many therapies, most also had failed autologous transplants so all of us have pretty wary bone marrow. With this said, the plan is to get a reduced dose for the next infusions ... hopefully this will lessen the recovery time at least a bit.

We left Sloan and decided rather than heading back to CT, we'd make the most of our time in the city and spend the night anyway. We did lots of people and bright lights watching in Times Square as we waited in the TKTS discount ticket line and came out with tickets to Mary Poppins on Broadway. After a nap back at Miracle House and a dinner of decadent savory crepes at a French cafe, we settled into the New Amsterdam Theatre for the production.

Mary Poppins was the absolute perfect choice – a total escape into colors, special effects, dance numbers, and fantastical, whimsical wonderfulness. Call me cheesy but I love that over-the-top showmanship only Disney can produce. We were both so in awe of all of the surprises and the amazing imagination behind the show. Rather than thinking about how the cancer has yet another week to grow before getting a chemo whack, instead, I was able to whilst about jumping into a painting and dancing with statues, about tap dancing chimney sweeps that serve as lucky guardian angels, and about the premise that "anything can happen if you let it." I lost my own worries in the music.

After a brisk walk consisting of lots of humming, we slept hard. We joined a group of others from Miracle House for breakfast, one of which was a man in his late fifties facing the premise of a bone marrow transplant to treat his leukemia. His match is his twin brother in India who just suffered a massive heart attack. We spoke a lot about the transplants I've had and what got me through. He was so grateful and told me that he was so scared before, but that now he had hope after seeing me and how well I looked and how upbeat I was. I told him that attitude is everything and that he will get through it, too ... even the bad days. I was only paying forward what others have done for me by sharing their stories. Those Miracle House breakfasts are about so much more than pancakes and eggs. I look forward to seeing him again this week.

We decided on a later train to give us time to geekily wave behind the set of the Today Show, see the big tree being set up in Rockefeller Center, get suckered by the vendors along the touristy streets, marvel at the beauty of St. Patrick's Cathedral and wander from one beckoning retail window scene to another all the way down Fifth Ave to Grand Central.

Cheeks rosied from the November air and calves weary from all the walking, the train ride home was spent nodding in and out of slumber. The track rumbles lulled us to sleep ... a sleep interrupted intermittently by the garbled, incoherent sound of the conductor's voice over the speakers.

In The Nest

In The Nest

Hungry and waiting for worms these two

chicklets are loud and impatient. Mom will soon fly down

to earth hunt for food and drop juicy treats into their wide open mouths.

7x5 acrylic on canvas panel

By artist Angela Sullivan

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Whisp of Yellow

Whisps Of Yellow

Just a hint of color thest fraile flowers suggest a simple

easy time life. A life filled with sunshine, sunshine and roses.

7x5 acrylic on canvas panel

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Copernican Revolutions

I've been putting of posting this week not (only) because I'm lazy, but mainly because I haven't been drawing much; I've been writing. Writing is a horrible experience, unless you enjoy pacing, sitting at a computer, talking to yourself, and thinking of what eventually becomes pointless ideas, for hours, and in the end have only a sentence to show for it.

One of the best helps I've ever gotten is Robert McKee's book "Story," which is one of the Bibles of screenwriting, and a very good tool for writing fiction in general. What helped me a lot this time around was his setup of character depth and how characters affect one another.

First of all, character depth is not a handful of character attributes that might be oddly put together. And it's not a character being committed to one idea far over all others. A character becomes interesting when he or she has inner conflict of ideals. If a man claims to be brave, but in a crisis is cowardly, then you're onto something. If a woman is known by all others as being useless and uninteresting, but her closest friends see that she has an amazing talent that can easily take her to the top of the world, then you've got the beginnings of a story.

Going off of this, a well-constructed story has characters that bring out specific qualities in the protagonist. Around certain characters, a person is happy and attractive, but around one very important secondary character, they become depressed and repulsive. In this approach, a writer designs characters around the protagonist like a miniature solar system. It can be said that a minor character's job is to force the protagonist to reveal a contradictory quality about themselves.

For the story I'm working on, I have a character who originally created a business because it's his passion. But a national company's competition makes money scarce, and he meets a publicist. This publicist is all about marketing and building hype, and the character gets so caught up with the newfound fame ("finally, recognition for what I do!"), that he doesn't have time to do the work that he originally loved. That's the basis, and there's a lot of development that I've done with it, but I'm not sharing it because then you won't read the comic!!!!

Fresh Picked

Fresh Picked

A fresh picked bouquet is fragrant and beautiful. The aroma fills the

air as though the east window which is near the garden in open. The grapes were also

fresh picked today for the family who are slowly drifting in for a visit. The family reunion will be

tomorrow but for today I choose I intend to remain close by the dinner table for the ever

so interesting conversation among friends.

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