Thursday, February 28, 2013

Picking Up Shells by Angela Sullivan

Picking Up Shells
Every time I see a little girl at the beach picking up shells it
brings a smile to my face. I tried to keep this loose and fresh.
8x8 oil on canvas panel.
For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just follow the link to pay via Pay Pal

She begins to appear.....




Wednesday, February 27, 2013

Cherries Around by Angela Sullivan

Cherries Around by Angela Sullivan
Another daily painting by me. I can't tell you enough how very much I
love painting. Anything , anytime I paint, It really doesn't matter what it is. I must
try to capture it on canvas. I bet my husband thinks I am crazy...Not really he just remodeled
my art studio just like I want it. The best of both worlds that is what I have....
8x8 oil on canvas panel.
For sale via PayPal at my
View more of my paintings at my





Tuesday, February 26, 2013

Red With A Touch of Gray

Red With A Touch of Gray
Practicing roses....I really have wanted to paint some nice roses and there is no 
other way to achieve that without practice. This one did turn out kinda nice.
8x8 oil on canvas panel.
To purchase via PayPal visit my 
To view more of my paintings visit my 


Monday, February 25, 2013

Leaving Soon by Angela Sullivan


Leaving Soon by Angela Sullivan
An original oil painting of a shrimp boat about to leave the dock.
7x5 oil on canvas panel.
To purchase visit my 
To view more of my paintings visit my

A new piece in process...

Cleaning out my studio and finding the bird heads has inspired a new piece.  Not quite sure what she will end up looking like, but she will be part bird/part human.

I don't usually work this way...with the armature first and I rarely use apoxie sculpt for the body, but I just have to step outside of my box and stretch myself.  Otherwise creating loses that wonderful edge that risk brings and that edge, I think, creates good/great pieces

So the body was built on wire with apoxie sculpt, which I really enjoyed.  I could get the legs and body really smooth.  The head was sculpted with Prosculpt.

Her arms and torso will also be painted white and my thought now is that they will be covered with black antique netting that I have, with tiny sequins on it.  So the white will show through.

She will be a black & white bird, with magenta highlights.....maybe.....

More to come......  :)

Sunday, February 24, 2013

Almost Home by Angela Sullivan

Almost Home by Angela Sullivan
A small dynamic painting with loose brush strokes and such a feeling 
of just being there. As I painted this I think I could taste the
saltiness on my lips and the air did seem a bit moist and warm.
7x5 oil on canvas panel.
To purchase visit my 
To view more of my paintings visit my

A Bone Faery to heal bones.....

Here is a little bone fae, created with mink bones, and donated to Robin's Relief Fund auction.  These have sold for $450 at the Chalk Farm Gallery, so you can pick up this little guy for a lot less and help a wonderful woman heal.  You can see the auction on ebay by clicking here:
Read about Robin's story here: http://robinsullins.com/
     You can read more on the creating of these faeries here and here:

Violet

 Violet
7x5 oil on canvas panel. For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just
follow the link to pay via Pay Pal.

Friday, February 22, 2013

Out To Pasture by Angela Sullivan

 
Out To Pasture
This little cow caught my eye. So cute and sweet but if you follow my paintings
you know how I feel about cows. (I am afraid of them)
Sold
Reference photo at wet canvas library thanks to Lotsofsmoggies

Blogging Update

As is probably obvious, I've been taking a blogging hiatus. I miss writing and connecting with all of you greatly, but life has kept me away from it.

I was given the green light by my medical team to travel to the West Coast. Preparing for the trip took all my focus the week before I left. I've been here in San Francisco since last Thursday attending the four-day San Francisco Writer's Conference, which was incredibly informative and inspiring. Since Sunday, I've been vacationing in the city with Craig and road tripping along the Pacific Coast Highway, bowing in absolute awe at the beauty of the Big Sur coastline, and seeing California based friends.

Medically, I've been a mess, increasingly by the day: pain, fevers, chills, fatigue, swollen nodes, sweats, and numbness. Days are okay. Evenings and overnights are impossible. I've been in touch with my medical team the entire time who has been working along with me to keep me comfortable and allow me to enjoy everything that I could while out here. 102 fevers are made more tolerable when set to backdrops of turquoise waters and Redwood trees. But Monday will be back to harsh reality.

We fly in late Sunday night. I'll get in a few short snuggles with Sam Dog, who I miss terribly, then my mom will take me for an overnight in the city for two days of treatment. Things are flaring very badly. I had a fantastic time out here, but am ready to check back in and get myself fixed up.

That said: I'll be back to a regular Tuesday/Friday blogging schedule the first week in March. Catch you then! Thanks for hanging in. There are many stories to share.

A Jar of Tulips


A Jar of Tulips by Angela Sullivan
I really enjoyed painting this. It was fun trying to balance between the feeling of
strength and delicate areas. 20x16 oil on canvas.
To purchase via PayPal visit my 
To view more of my paintings visit my

Thursday, February 21, 2013

Alyce In Wonderland

Alyce In Wonderland
Yes I know, I know  Alyce should be Alice but a coworker is having a baby and she
will name her Alyce so..........Her nursery is done in Alice In Wonderland so I painted this for her as a surprise.....Hope she likes it. I will let you know. This took me hours and hours. Whew! I think I will go paint something in oil. 
11x14 watercolor on Arches paper

Wednesday, February 20, 2013

Those Berries by Angela Sullivan

Those Berries by Angela Sullivan
When I was a child there used to be these purple berries on long stems. They
grew straight and tall with balls of berries at little clusters protruding from the stems. I loved those
berries. They were beautiful. I thought I would paint some just because.
7x5 oil on canvas panel.For sale or auction at my DPW gallery. Just follow the link to purchase via
Pay Pal.

Monday, February 18, 2013

Pulled In Different Directions

Pulled In Different Directions
Loving to paint cherries...I guess because they are red...
7x5 oil on canvas panel
For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just follow the link to purchase via Pay Pal.
 

Hunting inspiration.....

Today I uncovered wonderful inspiration in nooks and crannies of my studio mess!  Time to clean up, clean out, label, stack, store and start anew.  Ahhhh....it feels so good!


Of course, with the help of Miss Millie....

I had forgotten all about these!  I found these in a cobwebby, messy, wonderful old barn/store/broncante in France several years ago.  Aren't they fabulous!!  They are from hats from the 1800's or early 1900's.    I am so inspired!!


Sunday, February 17, 2013

Glycerin And Rosewater

Glycerin And Rosewater
Just wanting to paint a rose and this is what happened. 
7x5 oil on canvas panel. For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just follow the link to pay 
via Pay Pal.

Saturday, February 16, 2013

A Little Bit Scruffy by Angela Sullivan

A Little Bit Scruffy by Angela Sullivan
Sitting in the window just basking in the sun this little fellow feels like the king of his
domain.No he doesn't realize that he is just a little bit scruffy.
8x8 oil on canvas panel.
For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just follow the link to purchase via Pay Pal.

Friday, February 15, 2013

The Pot by Angela Sullivan

The Pot
7x5 oil on canvas panel.
For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just follow the link to purchase via Pay Pal.
Reference photo at wet canvas thanks to Andy23


Thursday, February 14, 2013

Show Stopper by Angela Sullivan

Show Stopper
This reference photo was found at the wet canvas library. Thanks to Elephant Ear
5x7 oil on canvas panel.
For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just follow the link to purchase via Pay Pal.


Wednesday, February 13, 2013

I Think I Love You by Angela Sullivan

I Think I Love You
5x7 oil on canvas panel. Painted with reckless abandon. Can you tell. Thought it was
approiate for valentines day. For sale or auction at my DPW gallery.
Thanks to Cuttineagle at wet canvas.

Enjoy my posts? Send a vote my way.

Hartford Magazine is conducting its annual Best Of Hartford Readers' Poll. I'm in contention for being named "Best Blogger" in the Greater Hartford, Connecticut, region. If you've enjoyed reading this blog for the past nearly four years, I'd so much appreciate your vote. It only takes a couple of minutes to complete an online ballot.  


The ballot requires you to vote in 10 categories. "Best Blogger" can be found under "Local People." Just scroll down and look for "Karin Diamond" listed alphabetically. 

Thanks so much for your support! Voting closes March 4. 

Click here to cast your vote. 



Sadie's Visit

Sadie's Visit
Just thought that this is just to cute not to share.
Today my daughter had to go out of town. We are baby sitting. Sadie will not 
budge out of my Grand daughters overnight bag. I did move her into my studio so she would not be alone. I think she likes it here.

Tuesday, February 12, 2013


An original oil painting by artist Angela Sullivan of a shrimp boat 
about to leave dock for a day of shrimping.
7×5 oil on canvas panel



Just A Little Spot In The Sun


Just A Little Spot In  The Sun
As I continue with my art journey I find that some days are really really good, while 
others are not so good. that is all I will say about that.
5x7 oil on canvas panel. For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just
follow the link to purchase via Pay Pal.

Monday, February 11, 2013

Team Leaders by Angela Sullivan

Team Leaders
This horse reference was found at wet canvas reference library. Thanks to Macy
5x7 oil on canvas panel. For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just follow the link to purchase via Pay Pal.

Sunday, February 10, 2013

Just A Pup by Angela Sullivan


Just A Pup
It always amazes me when I think of what to paint. Sometimes I want to paint vegetables and still life. Other times it is a little puppy like this that becomes the subject of the day. This brought me such happiness in the process. Such a cute little pup found on wet canvas reference gallery. They really do have nice photos to paint from. Thanks to CRYROLFE who posted the photo of him.
7x5 oil on canvas panel. For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just follow the link to purchase via Pay Pal.



Saturday, February 9, 2013

Just Needing A Little Nap by Angela Sullivan

Just Needing A Little Nap
I know I know this is too funny! My daughter hated it but.......I love it. 
I bet you think he looks scared while I think he is yawning. At any rate I found this reference 
photo at wet canvas thanks to coyotegirl I wanted to link to her photo but lost it and could not
find it again even tho I searched for hours. 8x6 oil on canvas panel.
Anyway here's to you coyote girl.
For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just follow the link to pay via Pay Pal.

Friday, February 8, 2013

When Hay Ain't Enough

When Hay Ain't Enough
I love hay just like the next one but I will tell you that sometimes Hay Ain't Enough...
Sometimes I just need to be with those other cows. Sometimes I like it when those little fellows 
jump and frolic among the daisies. Ha! That is in a dream world. They really sometimes play in the dry dead grass but they don't care. They are just having some fun. Sometimes it really is good to be a cow. Like when I stand there on a bright sunny day and feel the warmth of the sun beaming down on my back. Makes me want to just lay down and take a nap. I hear the sound of the truck horn in the distance but that don't bother me or really even make me sway from my thoughts. I am enjoying this...just standing here thinking about life and blessings. This is the best...this is the time when hay ain't enough. Thoughts are better....
7x5 oil on canvas panel
For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just follow the link to pay via Pay Pal.


Regaining Stability


When there are times as a grown woman that I have to be as dependent as a newborn, I latch onto the times that I can be independent with vigor. Sometimes this causes a riff between those who want to take care of me and me, but I have always enjoyed spending time with myself and the feeling of accomplishment of doing something on my own. When I can be functioning by myself again is when I know that I’m past the peak of whatever current hurdle I’m jumping. I’ve grown up and am much better at asking for help when things get messy and unmanageable, and I’m also better at asking for no help when I know I’m perfectly fine – like a kid who doesn’t want his mom to catch him at the bottom of the slide anymore.

My pain was under control as of Tuesday evening with the placement of a pain patch on my belly. It delivers very low dose, continuous medication to manage the bone pain I’m experiencing in my pelvis and will keep experiencing until the initial tumor blow-up process is complete. It cuts the pain completely, without leaving me overly drowsy and loopy and eliminates the up and downs of oral medications and the nausea they leave me with. For the first time, ever, I have an actual pain management plan. I’m grateful I’ve made it this far without having to have one, but now that I do, am grateful that I’m with a team that has done so much to ensure my comfort.

My patch and I took the train in on our own, eliminating the need to do any driving by taking Amtrak from a more local station. The seats were comfortable, the train car was warm, and I was able to work on some writing with power and WiFi access. I dressed up in business casual clothes as I felt in a business casual mood, not a cancer patient mood.


From the Penn Station cab line, I stepped into the most Zen cab I have ever had the pleasure of driving in. Zen and New York City cab are usually pretty far apart on the relaxation spectrum. I closed the door shutting out the sounds of the insanely busy hub that is this midtown transit center and was surrounded by beautiful notes of classical music. I told him where I was headed. At the first stop light we hit, I noticed that he pulled the New York Times crossword puzzle from the console over to his lap. He scanned over the clues and I saw that most of it was already filled in.

“What a great way to pass the time at stoplights,” I said to him.

“It’s what keeps me sane,” he said, and continued to explain to me the relaxing atmosphere he works to create in his cab. “The only complaint I get is that I don’t drive fast enough. But I won’t do it; I’ll have them get out and find another cab.”

He was in his late sixties, intellectual grandfatherly looking, wearing thick frame glasses and layered sweaters. He told me how he owned his cab, so he likes to keep it in good shape rather than slamming the brakes and the gas all the time as others do. I told him how one driver had taken me on a ride right over the sidewalk when he got too impatient with a garbage truck blocking he road ahead of us. We laughed.

We talked about my writing. I explained the difference between blogging and "Twittering". He told me about his time working as a men’s clothier in the city, but how he moved to North Carolina to raise his kids. 

It was like joining someone over a cup of Earl Grey. He dropped me at the clinic and told me he’d look for me at Penn Station again, though admitted that in the four years he’d been driving, he never drove the same person twice.

My 11 a.m. appointment actually commenced at 11 a.m. – and it was done at 11:45 a.m., the last 15 minutes just spent talking about the impending blizzard, the benefits of California, and skiers vs. beach bums with the nurse and clinical research coordinator. The team had to do vitals, a visual check-up and take lots of bloodwork from me as part of the protocol. It was smooth and easy. All blood counts look great.

I confessed my worries and insecurities about being on the pain patch to the nurse. I told her I was worried that with each lasting 72 hours, what if my pain goes away and I’m covering up nothing? What if I get addicted? Should I try to stop it, see if the pain comes back, then wait another 13 hours for a new patch to kick in? She calmed me by looking me straight in the eye and saying:

“Do you feel okay? Are you pain free?”

I nodded in agreement. It was as if I felt I wasn't entitled to that. 

“Then just go with it,” she said and told me that with all that I have to worry about, being addicted to pain meds is the least of it. I am on a very baby dose and those that get addicted are those that are using drugs without having any pain. These pain patches are much safer than popping lots of pills as it keeps things controlled and consistent and not so harsh on the body. She explained that these drugs are built for pain like mine and help calm all the receptors that go off when the body is experiencing pain so that I can sleep and eat and heal, which is very important.

“So just relax, let it go, let’s not do any experimenting right now,” she told me, knowing that I’ll be traveling to San Francisco next week. I can breathe easier after our little talk and am accepting this help that my body needs right now. I know it’s eliminating lots of physical and mental stress, which is certainly a good thing.

With three hours to kill before my train home, what was a girl to do on Fifth Avenue in mid-town Manhattan with a 3-story H&M right there on the corner? I lunched on a Panini then settled into the H&M racks for some retail fun, including the purchase of a $15 pair of bright pink pants that make me smile. I then decided to walk the 20 blocks, 2 avenues back to Penn Station. Sweaty from carrying my laptop on my back and with tired muscles, I grabbed a protein power smoothie and sunk into my train seat where I promptly fell asleep.

Today has been beautifully lazy huddled in for the "Blizzard of 2013" with Craig and Sam Dog. Nowhere to be. Lots of entertainment to be had from local newscasters reaching for new ways to say the same thing and their use of ridiculous visuals to illustrate the conditions. There's cookies to be baked. Candles and blankets at the ready. Everything we need. 




Thursday, February 7, 2013

Rambler

Rambler
Another dog just because. Oil on 6x6 canvas panel.
I can't believe it but I am almost out of canvas. How have I allowed my stock to get so low.
Alas I still have some 4x4's and some gallery wrapped 6x6's...guess I will be using them soon.
That is until my Dick Blick order gets here. Maybe it will come Monday.
For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just follow the link to purchase via Pay Pal.

Wednesday, February 6, 2013

Pappy

Pappy
I painted this little fellow and thought he had the cutest smirk. Well...I love him anyway.
6x8 on canvas panel.Oil Painting.Sold

Fighting Disease With Words


The below piece was published yesterday on The Huffington Post and is featured in the Healthy Living section as part of the HuffPo's Generation WHY series focused on young adults with cancer. I'll be contributing regularly here, so please become a "fan" or follow me from my Huffington Post page to get alerted to my postings on the news website. This first piece is focused on how blogging has helped me get through the difficult times and accentuate the positive ones that have crept in along this wild adventure. 

Thanks for checking it out!
-----------------------




As a writer and blogger, rather than unraveling at the words my oncologist is speaking, I am able to think about what a juicy story nugget his uncomfortable delivery makes. Once, he was telling me that despite the intensive, debilitating treatment I had just endured, the cancer was back and rapidly spreading. Instead of crying, I focused on the way he bit his bottom lip when delivering difficult news and at the prominent crook in his nose, which looked as if it were broken and re-broken after too many hockey fights.

I focused on his crisp baby blue shirt -- the only color I'd ever seen him wear. I wondered what his closet looked like, imagining hangers upon hangers of stiff collared shirts of only pale blue in checks, stripes and prints hung above a shelf of folded khakis and a row of boat shoes, the makings of the outfit that unfailingly peeked out from under his white lab coat.

As my transplant doctor detailed the risks of infertility, hair loss, permanent organ damage, and, oh yeah, death, I faced, I watched him swing his stethoscope in circles between his fingers, a nervous habit he leaned on when answering my pointed questions about survival rates and statistics. Focusing on these future narrative details saved me from breaking down at the reality of what was happening all around me.


When being wheeled into my many surgeries, I'd note the frigid metal operating table, the roughness of the paper drapings, the smell of the antiseptic, and that of the nauseating plastic breathing tubes in my nostrils. I collected details and wrote each story in my head as I went through the motions of three-and-a-half years (and counting) of uninterrupted cancer treatment.

In 2009, at age 26, I was diagnosed with stage 4b Hodgkin Lymphoma. The diagnosis came as a complete shock, never mind the advanced disease stage. Times have been terrifying, exceedingly beautiful, and incredibly funny -- the makings of great stories, and here I am, living them as the storyteller.

I started a blog a month before cancer was anywhere in my realm. I did it to balance the corporate and marketing writing I did in my career. Just two casual blog posts in, I received my diagnosis and found my unwanted and unexpected muse.

Since then, I have chronicled my journey through stories at eyespeeledlways.com. The practice is both practical and therapeutic. I can jump right into step when I see friends and family rather than having to rehash difficult updates over and over again. Often, I'll meet new people and they'll tell me they follow my blog, which, after my self-consciousness fades, helps me breathe easier knowing the elephant has already been addressed without me having to awkwardly introduce it.

Blogging has become a welcome responsibility to my readers, who started as friends and family then grew to total strangers -- other cancer patients, caregivers, medical professionals, or those without any ties to this disease but who relate for different reasons. Writing about my adventures gives me purpose at a time when my place in the world is constantly in question.

Knowing that each step in the treatment process potentially makes for its own blog post, I see myself from the outside, watching how I look, how I feel, how everyone around me reacts to each relapse, scan, or little triumph. My blog entries are an alternate reality that helps me to handle the unfathomable reality I am actually living.

If I don't write, my head will clutter with "what-if" scenarios, it will ache trying to process the life-and-death decisions I am constantly having to make regarding my treatment plan, it will flood with the unanswerable "whys." With each post I can digest the most recent piece of the saga and garner the strength to move forward.

I may not always want to talk about the intimacies of what I am going through, but I can write about it. I have to write about it. It is the one thing that I have control of in a world where at times it feels that nothing is in my control: not even my own body.

I have a rare, refractory form of this otherwise "highly curable" cancer, meaning many failed treatments and relapses. I have endured more than 30 chemotherapy drugs, several early phase clinical trials, radiation, immunotherapy, four biopsy surgeries, two autologous stem cell transplants using my own cells, and an allogeneic stem cell transplant using the donated stem cells of my sister to replace my entire immune system.

Through it all I often quip, "The blog just writes itself," at the drama that is always surrounding me, like vials of my blood dropped and shattered on the floor, emergency post-chemo bathroom sessions, lost radiation body molds, crisscrossed EKG leads, insensitive comments of onlookers, chance encounters, and surprise symptoms.

There is no question that writing is cathartic, but chronicling my journey also saves my sanity. My words keep me company in the loneliest of moments. When I can't escape the pain, I can writhe and scream with my words. Even when chained to the IV pole that held bags of chemotherapy, blood and antibiotics that flowed into me via plastic tubing, my writing could take me anywhere I wanted to go.

I endured many hospital stays, one left me confined to the walls of a very small room, no one allowed entering without wearing a mask, gloves and a gown. I had no skin-to-skin human touch and no sight of an unmasked smile for nearly a month. But what quarantine couldn't take away was the connections I could make with my writing. I could illuminate this experience for others who would follow and help to give perspective to those who thankfully would never have to endure something so dehumanizing. I couldn't be with the outside world, but I could connect with fellow humans at an even deeper level through what I shared on my blog and heard in reply.


Tuesday, February 5, 2013

I Look Up To You

I Look Up To You
If you have ever had one of these dogs then you know that they can look up to you with
those hungry eyes, Those eyes that can see right through you. Just like they are saying I look up to you... 5x7 oil on canvas panel.
For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just follow the link to purchase via Pay Pal.

Bendy/Brentuximab Trial: Cycle I



I am one round into this latest clinical trial: a combined therapy of Brentuximab Vendotin (SGN-35) and Bendamustine. The premise of this Phase I/II Clinical Trial is that the drugs work synergistically for maximum effect against the disease. Dr. O has put one person with much heavier disease than I have into complete remission and two others had impressive disease reduction. I am patient number 6, part of the second wave. I hope to add to the positive statistics.

Both of these drugs are proven to work against Hodgkin Disease. I’ve had both on their own at one time or another, but apparently there’s something about the one-two punch and the science behind that.

Each cycle requires two days of infusions at Columbia’s clinic in midtown Manhattan. The first day I received both Brentuximab and Bendamustine, the second day was Bendamustine only. Craig was my partner in the city this time around: there to hold my hand, help carry my bags, find me food, keep me smiling and entertained – all things he is expert at and for which I love him so much. He secured us a hotel with an upgrade by pulling the cancer treatment card. It was right in Times Square and walkable to the clinic and Grand Central, which made things easy.

I had been feeling so awful that I was actually looking forward to starting treatment so that I could again begin the healing process. Therefore Craig didn’t have to deal with the normal caregiver duty of dragging me to the chemo chair. In fact, my body was so spent that it needed two bags of red blood cells the day before I was to head to the city and get treatment. My hemoglobin had dropped down to 7.6, explaining my fatigue and malaise. I had to get my counts high enough to be able to safely receive the treatment drugs and qualify for the trial. With the help of my local oncologist, Dr. D, I secured the apparently “last bed in Hartford Hospital” and hurried up and waited for blood. After they drew my type and cross to check my blood type things were taking excessively longer than normal, though it’s always a slow process.

Suddenly my nurse ran into my room saying: “You had a transplant, right?” Then ran back out saying she had the blood bank on the phone.

She ran back in a few more times with further questions: “Was it with a donor? Was it your sister? What is her blood type? Where did you have the transplant?”

Obviously something was amiss. I’ve been going to Hartford Hospital for years now, they have substantial records on me, and many of the oncology nurses know me well. I have always been O-positive blood type, but that night my blood was coming back as Type A-positive. The head of the blood bank and all the big wigs were pulled in to look at my case and they re-ran my blood and discovered that in fact, my type had changed more than a year after allo transplant. Apparently, this is a very common occurrence, but not so commonly seen in a hospital that doesn’t perform stem cell transplants. Just another bizzaro piece of science. Nothing surprises me anymore.

Once that got squared away, it took two hours for each bag of blood to drip. Sweet Craig stayed with me the whole time and we were finally able to leave the hospital around 1 a.m., get to the Avon clinic later that morning to ensure my counts were high enough, and then make the trek by train into the city via a gracious ride from my mom. So, so many logistics.

As always, there is a ton of waiting at this particular clinic, but once you’re in, you’re treated with the utmost time and individualized attention, which makes the wait worth it. It’s also been great for my reading portfolio. I’m finishing a book a week.

Infusion days went smoothly. The nurse and nurse practitioner that work with Dr. O are incredibly smart, caring, thoughtful, friendly and comforting. They are close to my age and we have quickly fallen into step being able to joke around and be very real about symptoms, side effects, etc. They are excellent at follow-up and side effect management, which is huge in my world.

Our view at "Once." 
Craig and I cozied in my little infusion cube, me under a blanket with the New Yorker and a space heater blowing at me; Craig on the laptop catching up on schoolwork and mindless videos. The time passed as pre-meds dripped then the drugs themselves. Nothing unusual, no glitches. We only had to be in clinic for a couple hours each day, then were free to explore.

We checked out some restaurants recommended by Manhattanite friends, took in some familiar Times Square sites, tried our hand yet again at The Book of Mormon ticket lottery (no luck), and rested in our teeny boutique hotel room. Since we were walking by in the evening, we took a glance at the TKTS board and saw that “Once: The Musical” tickets were half-off. I had seen the show in previews last year and (if I can boast) said that it would be the “next big thing.” Eight Tony Awards (including Best Musical) later, it is. Craig hadn’t seen it, so we decided to splurge. Like me, he loved the music and the energy of the show. All the actors are also musicians performing with their guitars, ukuleles, cellos, mandolins, etc. on stage. It takes place in Dublin and tells the story of unrequited love and musical inspiration. It was a romantic distraction from the real reason we were in the city.

Dave Letterman audience cheerleaders.
After the next day’s treatment we scored free tickets to a taping of the David Letterman Show. We’ve been to a taping before, but this time, we were profiled as “peppy and fun” and chosen to be one of the 24 people they put in the first two rows to be the “lead audience” members. I think both of our doofy smiles and geeky enthusiasm for freebies and behind-the-scenes stuff had something to do with that. Oh, how ironic it was though seeing as I was fresh off the chemo chair, still in a Benadryl and Decadron haze. But clap and cheer we did after our training session and we hope we did the show right as we laughed at Dave’s Top 10 List and enjoyed his interview with Kevin Spacey from spitting distance.

I’m not sure if it was the pepperoni pizza we had after the show or the drugs making my body angry, but I was up all hours of that night with atrocious heartburn and acid reflux. It felt as if someone took a blowtorch to my esophagus. Craig felt awful for me, listening to my moaning and tossing and turning and looked out our 17th floor window from which he spied a 24/7 Duane Reade pharmacy. All of the sudden he had his pants on and was out the door and into the 20-degree-with-gusts-in-the-teens Manhattan streets at four in the morning. Dodging drunkards and hookers, he came back with Pepcid and a chocolate soymilk that was oh-so-soothing. That’s love.

Sad to say, it’s been a downward spiral from there. The weekend was okay. We had dinner out with our UConn friends, who are always a good time, breakfast with another great friend and then watched the Super Bowl with a bunch of our neighbors. If I can get myself out and around people I care about it’s amazing how much energy I gain from that and what it does for my spirit. It’s when I’m alone that things get really tough without the distractions. I had been overly tired and starting to have some pain set in during the days but just slept a lot and accounted much of it to all the travel I’d been doing and sleep I hadn’t been getting in addition to the treatment side effects.

Yesterday morning the pain came in with a bang. I woke up with severe pain in the bones of my pelvis, hips, and sacrum. It felt as if someone was stabbing them with scissors. When I stood, it felt as my pelvis might just give out and collapse, it felt so full and swollen. My mid-back also had shooting pains and all of my joints felt arthritic. I had suddenly gone from 30 years old to 90. I tried Extra Strength Tylenol but it didn’t cut it and I knew it warranted a call.

After conferring with Dr. O, it seems that the pain I have is a good sign. It likely means rapid tumor death, which can be very painful since the disease I have is confined to such a concentrated area. All of the meds and my own white cells are flooding my little bones and blowing up landmines in there. Being that the disease is within the bone means that this process can be very painful – and it is. I worry that the bones are just going to explode.

Our typical evening cuddle session does wonders for pain.
I have always had a very high pain tolerance and an aversion to pain meds as I cannot tolerate most of them because they make me vomit and make me feel loopy. But now, I cannot function without some relief and I need to ride this out. He expects that the pain will fade after about a week or so. I’m much more accepting of pain if it means positive things are happening, but it doesn’t change the fact that it is leaving me in tears.

I’m working with the team to find some pain management options that will get me through this week without leaving me a vegetable, keeping me pain-free and not a walking ball of nausea. I’m going to be trying a patch, which seeps the medication in through my skin rather than pills as that may eliminate the GI effects for me.  I need to get over my own mental stigma that using pain meds means I am weak, because it doesn’t. This isn’t a power trip. I’m trying to survive here – one moment at a time. Relief will come. Until then, I keep remembering to breathe. 

Monday, February 4, 2013

Concentration

Concentration
I am thinking about what I should do next. Should I just sit here in the mid day sun?
Or should I try to find a mouse in the tall grass just beyond the yard.  Yawn!! Nope I think I am fine
right here I smell something cooking right now....Smells like chicken. I think I will wait and just beg for a piece of that later...
8x8 oil on canvas panel. For sale or auction at my DPW gallery just follow the link to purchase via Pay Pal.