Not too far to walkHere is a glimpse of my next wood engraving, work in progress. With the main lines and elements laid out, now I get to bring forth the light and character of the piece. Keep working.
|One of my reference photos|
somewhere in the desert...
|Drawing on the block with my|
engraving arsenal on the right
I was going to call this piece "promised land" but being a realist I understand there is no such thing in life. All we have is our respective journeys and our feet. Once the walk begins, there is no place that is too far to walk if we just have the stubborn inclination to keep walking. The light guides us, surrounded aloft and afoot by prickly, sharp, hard and biting things, we bear all, we move onward to the destination, distant yet attainable and somehow irrelevant. Walking the journey is life, one step at a time.
How is this related to my cancer journey? In every way...in every way...keep working.
BTW "Not too far to walk" is a a song by John Huling, largely unknown master flutist who publishes most inspiring native nature revering Southwest music.
Meanwhile back at the Cancer Center...After a milestone week in which I swam my first full mile since the snake bit me, I am feeling as good as can be. Grateful, always grateful that I am able to live a new-normal life so fully.
|My trusty Garmin stats|
first full mile!
|Another thing to be thankful for,|
someone built this old pool exactly to
100th of a mile!
100 laps = 1 mile
So today I got to visit my friends at the blood-letting lab and the oncology office. I get a visit with the lab techs, always hard working and professional. I get to visit with a budding medical student on a residency rather than with my oncologist, he is also very cheery, nice and professional and I like that he does his homework on my case before uttering some words related to my steady state. He will make a fine doctor.
And I am in a steady state, cancer tumor markers are steady and perhaps a bit down from last month, blood work shows better recovery from the poison pill during recovery week. No more pain, no more rashes, no more digestive troubles (as long as I eat berries), no fatigue other than perhaps a tinsy bit tired at the end of the chemo cycle. All is well.
Then I see my scheduler, who mentioned the shock at seeing people "disappear" after a few visits. She can't get used to that and I am reminded that these folks behind the phones and the reception counters and the needles, behind the scales and blood pressure cuffs and stethoscopes...these people are very much human. Perhaps they don't have the deadly disease but they feel it, just as much as everyone else.
My hat off to them today, thank you for all you do.