On this rainy Monday morning, I definitely don't look forward to dragging myself out to the radiation clinic. I'd rather stay in my pajamas and curl up on the sofa with a blanket while watching an old movie. But at least I'll get to see the doctor today (every Monday, I see her) so she can look over my skin and see how it's doing. She'll be checking to make sure I'm not getting too "crispy." I've been applying the Radiaplex three times a day and it helps a lot, but my skin is extremely red and is starting to blister in some areas.
I'm thankful I'm almost halfway through my treatments. I don't know how the oncologist and the radiation oncologist determined the number of treatments I'd need, but they came up with the number 35. Typically, breast cancer patients receive around 33 doses of radiation. Maybe they tacked on a couple of extra treatments for good measure.
My radiation oncologist, Dr. Diana Santiago, is pleasant. She is Hispanic and loves to paint. I only found out about her love of painting last week as I was perusing the office and saw a couple of pieces of art on the wall. I asked one of the staff who had done them and they said that Dr. Santiago was the artist. They said she enjoyed painting in her free time. Today, I'm planning on asking her what medium she enjoys using most. I assume it's oils because they are more flexible than acrylics although the drying time is so much longer. Speaking of painting, I have a stack of canvases in my office right now that are calling out my name. I have only painted once since having my surgery. I just haven't felt up to it and my creative juices weren't flowing at all. But this week, I just may have to pull out my paints and put some color to those stark white canvases.
Art is a wonderful healing therapy. A few weeks ago, I worked on a collage for a friend of mine. She's a breast cancer survivor, too. As I was working on that piece, I was so engrossed in the project that I lost all track of time. Before I knew it, I'd been working for six hours without a break. When I start a project, I want to work until I've completed it. It's becomes an obsession. I start out not knowing exactly which direction my project will take and then, all of a sudden, it takes on a life of its own.
When I was in high school, I remember having to do a project for a Social Science fair. Back then I was such a procrastinator. I waited until the night before the project was due before even starting on it. I knew that I needed to do something related to Madrid, Spain, because that was the topic of my report. I needed to create an interesting piece of art to accompany the report into the Science fair. As I thought about what I could do, I looked around my room for inspiration. The only thing I had relating to Spain at the time was a library book I'd checked out as a reference for my report. I leafed through the pages of the book and found a tiny photo of a matador in the midst of a bull fight. His cape was drawn out in front of him and the brilliant red caught my eye. The bull's head was down and ready to charge. His sharp horns ready to pierce flesh. I took a magnifying glass and hovered over the bull's eye. The artist had captured the photo exactly as the bull began to snort and his eyes were narrowed. That was my inspiration! The bull's emotion.
Quickly I dug through my closet looking for art supplies. It was around 9 p.m. and I needed to have this project complete and ready to turn in by 8 a.m. I found a thin canvas board that had been left over from another art project and tubes of oil paints in red, brown, black, white, yellow, and navy. I looked and looked but could not find my brushes anywhere. I'd wasted about an hour searching for them and then, came up with a brilliant idea. Instead of using my brushes, I would use my fingertips. I would have to be very careful to capture the fine detail with only my fingertips, but I was determined to do it.
I squeezed a thin line of black paint out onto a plastic plate, my makeshift palette. Purposefully, I dipped my right index finger into the paint and put it to the canvas. I drew my finger along the rough texture beginning the outline of the bull's head and strong neck. I was not going to paint the entire bull's body because there was no time. The outline covered almost the entire canvas. I wanted this to be a close up rendition of the bull's strength, so I chose to fill the canvas leaving only small amounts of negative space. After the outline was complete, I began to add detail marveling at how much control I had using only my fingers. I worked until late into the evening pushing the paint deep into the crevices of the canvas. If I remember correctly, I fell asleep on the floor next to my painting.
The next morning, I woke up late and had to hurry to get to school on time. I touched the canvas to make sure it was completely dry. I glanced at it as I walked down the hall to class. In my opinion, it had turned out rather well. I wondered if anyone would notice there were no brush strokes. I presented it to my teacher along with my report. She was amazed at the painting and asked if I'd affixed a 3x5 card to the back with all the pertinent information needed for the fair. I had forgotten to do that, so she handed me a card and asked me to jot down the information and she'd affix it to the painting before entering it into the show. On the card, I had to list my first and last name, what category I was submitting the project for and what school I attended. I also had to enter my current grade and list all the supplies I'd used to create the project. For the art supplies, I listed- one blank white canvas, acrylic paints, and turpentine. I handed the card to my teacher who quickly read over it. "I think you forgot to add brushes to your list of supplies, Bonnie," she said. I had to explain to her that I hadn't used any brushes. "Oh, but surely you did," she said. "No ma'am. I didn't," I said, as I held up my fingertips for her to examine. Each of my fingertips was stained in black, brown, or red. "You used your fingers to paint this?!" she exclaimed. I shook my head and hung it down thinking she was chiding me for doing something wrong.
Later that week, the students were allowed to go into the cafeteria and see all of the Social Science fair projects. We walked by each table marveling at the works of the fellow students hoping to see a first, second, or third place prize ribbon on our projects. As I approached the table holding my project, I was dumbfounded. There in the upper right corner of my painting was a bright blue first place ribbon!
For years I kept that painting. It was a reminder to me that even without the proper art materials, I had been determined to make what I had work. My determination has won me a prize, but the blue ribbon wasn't the prize...my prize was self satisfaction...just knowing that I'd done a job and done it well. I had given it my all. And just like my cancer journey, I'm determined to end well. My prize for going through treatments, for doing everything the doctors tell me to do, will be living. I don't take my life for granted any longer. Every moment of every day is a precious gift...another stroke of paint on the canvas of my life. God continues to complete His masterpiece in me, for surely I am still a work in progress. One day, I will stand before Him and I'm going to ask Him how He chose to take every trial, every joy, every aspect of my life and used them to create a perfect picture of Himself in me. I can just imagine that Heaven is filled with walls of unfinished paintings, and those paintings are never created with brush strokes but by the Master's gentle, caring fingertips.
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