Ultra Sounds Monday, October 29, 2012

Good windy morning to all of you in the Eastern part of Canada and the U.S. I hope you are all safely snuggled somewhere to weather the weather.

Today’s post is one of my own works. This poem is about the oft-overlooked caregiver of us needy patients. They give and give and give and often nobody notices.

Sam

An Ode to a Caregiver

by Samantha Albert

 

In the business of illness

the patient is the star,

with agents and  handlers,

groupies and entourages.

“Do you need some chicken soup?”

“You are so brave, so inspirational!”

“Tell me your every need, your every wish and I will fill it.”

The patient is the celebrity, the self-indulged.

They are encouraged to focus on themselves

To take care of themselves

To talk about themselves

Their jokes are funnier

Their words are more profound

Than they ever were before

But if the patient is the star

what is the caregiver?

Chief cook and bottle washer.

Launderer of dirty linen.

The one who makes the money to pay for the medication

The one who cheerfully brings endless cups of tea.

The one who explains why mama has to be away so often.

The one who responds to grumpy moods with a sympathetic, “Are you having a hard day? “

The one who is scared, but can’t show it.

The one who, no matter how much they love the patient,

is always a bit of an outsider to the illness.

The one who must carry on with the life of two,

while the patient is otherwise engaged.

Where are their groupies?

Where are the reporters?

Where is the fanfare?

Leave the patient in anonymity for a while.

Cast your spotlights

on the quiet one in the background.

Celebrate him

Appreciate his dedication

Acknowledge his courage

Recognize his love

June, 2011

Let’s try this again – Ultra Sounds Mondays, October 8, 2012

My apologies to you all and to Kate. None of her cartoons showed up in yesterday’s posting. Let’s see if it works today.

Enjoy!

Sam

 

Cartoonists hold a special place in my heart. Aside from my love of them leftover from childhood, there is something about the whimsy of cartoons that allows the dark side of a situation to be exposed to the light. I recently, happily stumbled upon a new cancer cartoonist and her humour is spot on to describe the life of a cancer patient (or any seriously ill patient for that matter).

This wonderful cartoonist is Kate Matthews and you can find her in all of these different ways:

cartoonsbykate@gmail.com

www.cancercartoons.com

www.facebook.com/cancercartoonswww.facebook.com/cartoonsbykate

twitter: @cartoonsbykate

http://www.thecartooniststudio.com/Cubicle.aspx

Her story is woven in through her cartoons. Enjoy.

 

Sam

 

One day, close to the end of his life, my daughter offered my Father-in-law a handful of Red Hots (bright-red, heart-shaped cinnamon-flavored candies).  He gestured with his hand and said, “ No thanks, I’m off the Lysinopril” (these were his bright-red, kind of heart-shaped, blood pressure control pills).  We all burst out laughing and for a while, his pain and our sorrow were lifted away.  Eventually my memory of that moment morphed into a cartoon:

 

Shortly after my Father-in-law died, I too was diagnosed with cancer.  At first, I fell into that deep dark hole of despair that seems so dreadfully inescapable.  But then I remembered how we had laughed and how much it had helped.  I began to construct a ladder of laughter to help me get out of my hole:

 

 

Cartooning saved my sanity. I was seeking that bright quick moment of mental relief, the laugh that pushes the fear and the pain away. Anytime I found it, I drew it.  I drew in the doctor’s waiting rooms and in the chemo chair, in my living room and in the hospital.    When my treatment was finished, I collected the cartoons in a book in hopes of sharing a few bright moments with others.  We all know that there’s not one damn thing that’s funny about cancer, but no one needs a good laugh more than we folks who are fighting it.  That’s why I’m still cartooning, why I try to post a new cartoon everyday.  When we laugh, we feel good and when we feel good, we get stronger.  Let’s hear it for laughter!

 

Ultra Sounds Monday, October 8, 2012

Cartoonists hold a special place in my heart. Aside from my love of them leftover from childhood, there is something about the whimsy of cartoons that allows the dark side of a situation to be exposed to the light. I recently, happily stumbled upon a new cancer cartoonist and I  her humour is spot on to describe the life of a cancer patient (or any seriously ill patient for that matter).

This wonderful cartoonist is Kate Matthews and you can find her in all of these different ways:

cartoonsbykate@gmail.com

www.cancercartoons.com

www.facebook.com/cancercartoonswww.facebook.com/cartoonsbykate

twitter: @cartoonsbykate

http://www.thecartooniststudio.com/Cubicle.aspx

 

Her story is woven in through her cartoons. Enjoy.

 

Sam

 

Cartooning Against Cancer by Kate Matthews

 

One day, close to the end of his life, my daughter offered my Father-in-law a handful of Red Hots (bright-red, heart-shaped cinnamon-flavored candies).  He gestured with his hand and said, “ No thanks, I’m off the Lysinopril” (these were his bright-red, kind of heart-shaped, blood pressure control pills).  We all burst out laughing and for a while, his pain and our sorrow were lifted away.  Eventually my memory of that moment morphed into a cartoon:

Inline image 2

Shortly after my Father-in-law died, I too was diagnosed with cancer.  At first, I fell into that deep dark hole of despair that seems so dreadfully inescapable.  But then I remembered how we had laughed and how much it had helped.  I began to construct a ladder of laughter to help me get out of my hole:

Inline image 3

Cartooning saved my sanity. I was seeking that bright quick moment of mental relief, the laugh that pushes the fear and the pain away. Anytime I found it, I drew it.  I drew in the doctor’s waiting rooms and in the chemo chair, in my living room and in the hospital.    When my treatment was finished, I collected the cartoons in a book in hopes of sharing a few bright moments with others.  We all know that there’s not one damn thing that’s funny about cancer, but no one needs a good laugh more than we folks who are fighting it.  That’s why I’m still cartooning, why I try to post a new cartoon everyday.  When we laugh, we feel good and when we feel good, we get stronger.  Let’s hear it for laughter!

Inline image 5

 

Ultra Sounds Monday, Sept 24, 2012

Happy Monday all,

This week I am happy to present another painting by Gina Duque. I hope you all went to take a look at her website after the last submission. If not, please do take a look at the many wonderful ways in which she sees the world.

Enjoy!

Sam

 

 

In her own words:

About the Artist

Whether it’s through prints like ‘Calypso’ or paintings like ‘Eukarya’, the essence of my work stems from creating mystical images inspired by cellular biology, the concept of healing and my interest in exploring the spiritual connection between the body and mind. I am currently using images derived from medical imaging technology to portray cells, tissues and systems of the human body.

During the last two and a half years of my cancer treatment, creating artworks has become a therapeutic and fulfilling process, eventually evolving into a spiritual and mindful practice.

Gina Duque is an emerging artist currently attending the University of Western Ontario in London, Ontario for her Bachelor of Fine Arts Honours Degree. Originally from Cali, Colombia, she immigrated to Canada with her mother at the age of eleven to Walkerton, Ontario.

 

About ‘Rebirth ‘

‘Rebirth’ is an abstract painting inspired by the Phoenix, a mythical creature that ignites on fire at the end of its life cycle and arises from its ashes to be reborn again. This is a powerful piece that for me signifies closing a painful, yet wisdom filled period in my life where I’ve gained so many life lessons not only from this experience but also from the many courageous, inspiring cancer patients I have met along the way. Now taking the ashes of my last chapter to construct another, I begin anew feeling stronger than ever with a renewed perspective on life that has truly enabled me to live life to its fullest.

 

Ultra Sounds Monday, September 3, 2012

Welcome back everyone! It’s a fresh new fall and I’m eager to be back in blogging mode again. The summer has been filled with fun and some exciting new projects and connections, many of which will unfold throughout the fall on Ultra Sounds.

But to the business at hand. Today is Monday and that means it’s the day I get to share a submission with you. For the first submission of the season I am delighted to share our first musical contribution.

Take a moment now to stop what you are doing, put aside the rest of your emails, minimize Facebook, shut the door and close your eyes to enjoy this jewel from Dan.  I have connected with Dan through his website Create Beyond Cancer. Our overlapping interests made it inevitable that we would eventually find each other. Do take a look at the site and see what Dan is up to both in terms of the site itself and his work in the community.

Remember now, close your eyes and create the space in your day to fully enjoy this little piece.

Sam

 

 

In Dan’s own words:

It was lovely to be asked the other week by Sam to submit something on her blog. I believe it will be the first musical contribution. As both an architect and singer, I feel my life has been a full and enriched one. Being creative has brought me into contact with many interesting people from different walks of life. I have been living with cancer since May 2010. Since being diagnosed I have wanted, if at all possible, to remain creative.
 
There are many examples of people remaining creative whilst living with cancer. One personal example for me is the composer Gerald Finzi. Whilst living with cancer he continued to compose some beautiful songs. In fact I believe his creativity increased after his diagnosis. I find singing his songs and those by other composers helps me cope and reaches out to others.
 
Recently I gave a concert during the day with Kathy my pianist for the patients, carers and visitors at a hospital in Berlin. They have a piano outside the oncology ward in a large spacious corridor with good acoustics. The following is a song selected from a recording I made that day. It isn’t a very good recording but manages to capture the moment. The song is in german and by Schubert and is called ‘Der Neugerige’, which means curiosity, and comes from the song cycle ‘Die Schöne Müllerin’. In short, the youth in the song is asking the brook that powers the mill wheel whether the miller’s daughter loves him. I hope you enjoy the short song.
 
Thank you for listening
 
Dan

Ultra Sounds Monday, July 9, 2012

Hello everyone,

My apologies for the quietness of the blog these days. It’s these sluggish summer days. You could peel me off the couch when it’s as hot as it has been lately in Southern Ontario. Once the cooler weather arrives, I will be back in full swing.

Today’s submission comes from Kelly Thorarinson,a lovely woman I met at an Art for Cancer Workshop. I love the colours and texture of this painting as well as the title and what it represents. Do check out Kelly’s other work and her blog.

In her own words:

Re: Resolving the Screening dilemma

I worked on this piece through Art for Cancer Foundation’s 5 week workshop.  I call it resolving the screening dilemma as that is actually part of a typewritten piece that is visible under all the colour and texture…. a newspaper clipping. That is how I first decided to name this piece, but really there is so much more.  Those words resonate with me because there is complexity to cancer treatment.  Even as a stage 1 breast cancer patient where treatment is fairly straightforward, there are still many questions.  One, of which, is about screening as the very screening methods and treatment for breast cancer can also cause cancer.  Sure is a dilemma.  The other aspect of the title is that in doing art I was able to solve the dilemmas of cancer by giving them a voice and hours of escape through art. More of my art can be found at www.abelcreation.com and I write a blog at www.chrysalis2butterflywings.blogspot.com

 

 

The Screening Dilemma

by Kelly Thorarinson

Ultra Sounds Monday, June 11, 2012

Hello and good day on this hot and sticky day in Southern Ontario, Canada.

Today’s submission is a drawing with accompanying text from a chapbook by Julianne Davis of the U.K. . You can read the whole chapbook at  http://issuu.com/outmastirie/docs/9thaprilpdf  I like the juxtaposition of the airy, la-di-daa title and picture set against the image of mutating cancer cells and the strong ending statement.

Julianne’s bio:

My Cancer Cells Are Beautiful is the title of an expression of feelings, thoughts and dreams through poetry and art, upon my diagnosis of cancer.

I was born in Bristol, United Kingdom. I am a mother to two children.

 

My Cancer Cells Are Beautiful

by Julianne Davis

 

 

This was the first picture I drew

after finishing my treatment.

 

One day I was looking at some pictures

of cancer cells and I

was thinking how beautiful

they looked.

 

The way they moved, mutated and

multiplied.

A stunning catalyst of cells,

dispersing like shooting stars,

mutating everything it touches.

 

I hate you.

Ultra Sounds Mondays, June 4, 2012

Technical difficulties kept me from publishing on Monday, so play along with me and pretend it’s Monday today.

Today give yourself some time and space to view this submission. ThIS video is a documentary about a remarkable young man whose life was cut short by cancer. His approach to his own illness was to capture the world in photographs. Below are words from his mother to introduce the video.

Sam

“When you are going through hell, keep going,” Silas read this quote to me off of an iced tea bottle cap, shortly after being diagnosed with stage IV cancer, just days before his 29th birthday in October of 2007. That same day he told me, “it’s going to be okay, mom,” and with all of my troubled heart his words became truth at that moment. 

Silas “Sy” River Bennett was a wildly independent young man with a commitment to social and political change; someone who enjoyed the big debates and small wonders of life in equal measure. It seemed he was born with a sense of humor that he carried throughout life; a life that was full of plans and ideas. Silas knew that with stage IV cancer the prognosis was not encouraging. Yet, despite the challenges he faced, Silas continued to move forward with dreams and ambitions that were important to him. He planned, among other things, to return to Keene State College in New Hampshire, where he had been pursuing a degree in journalism until his diagnosis. With his electric intellect and creative mind, journalism was not only a career path, but a passion. 

After his cancer diagnosis, Silas continued his journalistic work; first bravely documenting his life on video, and then turning to photojournalism shortly thereafter. During this time Silas endured brutal chemotherapy and radiation treatments, two surgeries to stabilize his vertebrae to avoid paralysis, and a clinical trial. He was in almost constant and severe pain, and was hospitalized frequently. His was an unrelenting, aggressive cancer, and within months Sy needed the use of a wheelchair. Photographing the world from this new perspective, often with his legs pulled up as it became harder to control the pain and get comfortable, his knees are visible in some of his photos. In looking through these unintentional “self-portraits” I cannot help but smile as I recall a remarkable man with tenacity and humor; an incredible and feisty spirit who remained optimistic even through the darkest of news. Through his photographs, Silas documented everything from the raw emotions of family members to the beauty of spring blossoms flowering as his young life waned. 

On May 24, 2008, Silas awoke early. At that time, we were staying in a hotel room up on Beacon Hill which was close to MassGeneral, where Sy was receiving care. He wanted me to take him to a photo store close by. As with many businesses in Boston, this one was not wheelchair accessible. With much difficulty and the assistance of a compassionate manager and an employee, Silas stepped out of his chair and up into the store. Once he was settled back into his wheelchair, Silas looked up at the young manager, and began talking with him about how he had been doing some amateur photography, and was thinking of taking it pro. What equipment would be needed, my son inquired. There are not words adequate to describe the love and humility I felt at that moment. I will never forget the look of satisfaction on Sy’s face as we left the store with his purchases. Giving up was simply not an option, and the next day, camera in hand, Silas took the most exquisite photos of his dear friend Zack and Zack’s fiancée Kelly. Silas passed away just two days later, on May 27, 2008. 
This documentary is a testament to Sy’s ability to live life to the fullest, even in the most despairing of times. ~Lorraine Kerz, Sy’s mom~

The Man Behind Sy’s Fund from Sy’s Fund on Vimeo.

Ultra Sounds Mondays, May 28, 2012

Today I’m delighted to present another art work by Viola Moriarty. I love this painting and the surreal combination of the every day domestic with the reality of a life with cancer.  You can  learn more about Viola  and her amazing art work at www.violamoriarty.com

Enjoy.

Sam

 

 

 

live your life (my oncologist says)

by Viola Moriarty

Ultra Sounds Mondays, May 7, 2012

Welcome back after a quiet week.

Over the last few months I have had the pleasure of getting to “know” the wonderful Viola Moriarty online. I am delighted, thus, today to present some of her work for today’s submission. This will be our first mixed-media submission and is part of Viola’s “Barbie gets cancer” series. You will never look at Barbie the same way again. Click  here to read more about this series. Click here to visit Viola’s website.

Sam

———————————————————————————————————————–

Here’s what Viola has to say about herself:

I  painted my first painting almost 10 years ago, and knew as I felt brush and paint on canvas that I would change everything to paint.  And I did. 

 In 2007 I was diagnosed with stage 2 breast cancer, had partial mastectomy and 18 lymph nodes removed, targeted radiation and 6 rounds of kick ass chemo, followed by tamoxifen.

Last August I was diagnosed with Stage 4 metastatic breast cancer with metastesis around all my organs, the CNS, and many large and small brain tumors.  Had full brain radiation for three weeks followed by a lot of vomiting (lost 50 pounds in two months–good thing I had the extra to lose!), then femara and now fasolodex shots.  The treatments have been working and right now I’m doing great.  
 
My greatest love—even more than painting–is my family.  I have two amazing daughters:  Anna Moriarty Lev (levhardware.wordpress.com) and Phoebe Moriarty Lev (phoebesmundo.wordpress.com).  And I’m married to their father and the love of my life, Jon Lev.  Henry and Dulcinea are our two cats.  We live in Vermont, though I am from Denver, Colorado
——————————————————————————–
And here is what Viola had to say about the “Barbie” series:
The barbies  are from the Barbie Gets Cancer section of the ExVoto Suscepto Exhibit which traveled to several venues in 2009, including a presentation at Stowe Weekend of Hope in Vermont, Southern Vermont College, and the Southwestern Vermont Cancer Center.  They were part of my response to my first diagnosis in 2007.  I’m now working on Full Brain radiation Barbie, Fasolodex Barbie, Brain Met Barbie ….along with a series of paintings called “live your life, my onclogist says”.  

 
No matter what I envisioned when I played with those dolls (just as I’m sure Ruth Handler had no idea about her future when she invented them) I never once saw myself as growing up to get cancer.  
—————————————————————————————————————————-
Tamoxifen Barbie, 2008:
Radiation Barbie, mixed media on board, 2008:
Dexamethasone Barbie, mixed media, 2008: