DNA

It's been a while since I've been here. Since I last wrote, I've finished two pieces in a series called 'DNA'.

I guess it's fairly obvious why they're called that. The first is called DNA Diva, and she's pen & ink and watercolor. The second is DNA Dreamer, done with pen & ink for a black and white themed contest called Nibblefest. If you're interested, go to eBay on the 20th of the month and search on NFAC, which stands for Nibblefest Art Contest. Everything has to start at 99 cents, and some really good artists are represented, so you might get something fabulous for almost nothing.

I've rejoined the Breast Cancer email list I belonged to up until right around the time I started this blog. It's a group of very intelligent women and men with personal experience of breast cancer, including a couple of men who have had the disease. I found it a very supportive place to be when I was first diagnosed, and attended the annual get-together in October of last year. Then the silly flame wars got to me, and I suppose I also was having a hard time being constantly reminded that not only had I had breast cancer, I, unlike most on the list, still have breast cancer. I needed some time away.

John stayed on, and, though he had never posted much, brought me up to date on the happenings...a couple of people died; one woman I'd met at the get-together had a serious car accident; one woman I also met lost her husband, who wasn't yet 50, to what I guess was a heart attack, etc., etc. Hearing about these things made me miss everyone, but I was busy focusing on my art obsession, and establishing myself as a person who was...still living, I guess.

I have mixed feelings about going back. After my cancer metastasized, it was hard to hear, "Oh, May, we know what you're going through; we'll help you through it". No, you don't. I have a death sentence; you don't. While we all "just have today, really", which I heard too many times after I was diagnosed with Stage IV, I have been robbed of my future. I admit I felt resentful hearing these things from women who should know better. And like all other drunks, as they say in AA, I can't afford resentment.

Well, I don't want to belabor all this; I chose to go back. And I think it will be, all in all, helpful. And I still have my art.

May