Dance of Death: The Ossuary and The Pope.

I got right distracted today while working on the Healing Arts posts, distracted right into the amazing world of The Dance Of Death. There’s a large body of work by different artists devoted to this particular aspect of death, and they widely range in style, to say the very least. All of the art work is very beautiful, and is often poignant, witty, and sly. The main message being that death is no respecter of persons.

So this will be a sort of companion series to the Healing Arts. I’m going to start with Basel’s Dance of Death by Hieronymus Hess (1799-1850). These are based on copies of a mural which was done around around 1435-1441. The wall with the original mural was lost long ago, in 1804. Some fragments survive and are housed in a museum. We open with The Ossuary and Death’s first conquest, The Pope. Death looks positively gleeful walking off with the pope.  I’m quite enchanted with Hess’s portrayal of Death as a mostly fleshed character who must maintain modesty when it comes to the private bits. Death also changes gender in Hess’s portrayals, and there are obvious character shifts in Death, dependent on just who is being claimed. In The Pope, it almost looks as if Death were wearing a skull mask.

The Ossuary. Click for full size.

The Ossuary. Click for full size.

Death and the Pope. Click for full size.

Death and the Pope. Click for full size.

Jack’s Walk

 

©voyager, all rights reserved

Today Jack and I walked an unfamiliar trail that wends along the Thames River and the place was positively mad with life. Wild flowers crowd the path and the plants and trees are huge and grow all jumbled together. Wild iris grows with forget-me-nots and buttercups and the Queen Anne’s lace is taller than me. And it wasn’t just a feast for the eyes. The air was warm and sunlight filtered in and out through the trees. We were surrounded by birdsong and the thrum of insects. I let the wild grasses tickle my hands and plucked a few tender shoots to nibble on as we walked. A light breeze carried the fresh scent of water and the deeper scent of earth. My senses were sated. This is the landscape where I spent hours wandering alone as a child and today its familiarity connected me to that forgotten part of myself. It felt special to share it with Jack and I’m pretty sure we’ll be coming here more often.

Rock, Paper…Plant.

Last week, a colourful bucket full of hand painted stones was on the reception desk in 7 (infusion). The stones were painted by a 3rd grade class for all the people undergoing chemo. We chose our rocks, they are lovely little tokens, like carrying good wishes with you. We also brought home books, and a lovely plant. I will probably be snoozing most of today, having been up all night with the big, bad butt pain again. It’s a right pain in the arse, literally. As usual, click for full size. As for the books, I finished Bird Box, reading it on 7, and the ride home. It was interesting. The concept was certainly intriguing, but fell a bit short on execution. There were questions which never get answered, leaving me with a vague sense of dissatisfaction. Notwithstanding, it was still a good tale, and it was a quick read. It’s a debut novel by the lead singer of the band The High Strung, Josh Malerman. A movie has been made, and will be released by Netflix this December.

© C. Ford.

Jack’s Walk

©voyager, all rights reserved

The weather the past few days has been dreary. Temperatures have dropped into the teens and there’s been lots of rain. There’s also a lot of mud and it’s been challenging to keep Jack clean. Today, though, we found a nice dry path and we didn’t have to wrestle with cleaning his feet, although we still did our all over check for ticks. That’s really important at this time of year, especially if you and your dog go exploring country roads and forested places. Just take a minute when you get home to feel all over your dog’s coat for ticks. If you find one don’t try to pick it off. There are specialized tweezers available at most pharmacies and vet clinics that ensure the entire tick comes free. If you live in an area where lyme disease is common (we do) you can send the tick off to be tested. Just ask your vet. My brother-in-law’s dog contracted lyme disease last year and he was a very sick pup and needed antibiotics for a month. Our family now takes the risk very seriously and so we also give Jack oral tick prevention.

CC Notes: I’m Not Sorry.

© C. Ford, all rights reserved.

© C. Ford, all rights reserved.

Okay. I’m going to start with reiterating that what I write here is about my experience with cancer treatment, and my feelings about it, it’s in no way general or applicable for painting with a vague and broad brush.

I am not sorry in the least little bit for not celebrating the first round of chemo being done. I am not sorry for viewing this as a completely non-celebratory event, nor for feeling this way. There was relief, and a fleeting sense of being free. That last one didn’t last long. As usual, the chemo has left me feeling half past dead and seriously dehydrated. So, I’m back again today for IV fluids. I’m only going because Rick refused to let up asking about going in for fluids. These days, he easily recognises the signs of dehydration, so I conceded. Right now, I’d rather deal with being half past dead than going back to 7. (In my hospital, the infusion suite is on the 7th floor.)

It doesn’t feel to me as if I’ve finished; there’s always something dragging you back, and even if I could manage to stay away from 7, appointments and schedules arrive by mail and phone, and of course there’s preparation for the next round of treatment. There’s also the knowledge that you’re going to get completely battered down again, which leaves you with a deep desire to simply stay the fuck away from hospitals altogether.

This all ties back in with the ever relentless positivity business. There’s the bell, which is in infusion/chemo suites all over, you’re supposed to ring it the same number of times as your cycles (in my case, it would be eight), while everyone else in infusion applauds; for me, that’s a hellish notion, and I was more than relieved in managing to slip out quietly. I learned that other infusion/chemo suites have a certificate/diploma thing, which is even worse than the damn bell. Most of us don’t require false encouragement, we all have our own reasons to keep showing up for treatment, even when we are past sick of it, and long to walk away and forget. You experience resignation soon enough in treatment, and simply getting through one phase is just that, nothing more. What most cancer patients are looking toward is the final door, that light at the end of the fuckin’ tunnel, when you get to walk away for real. For other cancer patients, there is no exit door, they’ll be in treatment until they die, and in such cases, it’s really callous and rotten to get all positive and celebratory over a single phase of treatment. Chirpy, trite sentiments do not help in the least, and they give people something empty to say without having to expend any thought on the actual person and their situation. Sometimes, there just isn’t anything to say, and that’s okay. Silences don’t have to be filled every single time, and silence is better than a perky positivity landing in compleat awkwardness.

This is not to say I don’t understand someone having joy over getting through one phase or being happy for me; it’s that I don’t feel that joy myself. I’m still looking at months worth of treatment and pretty much the rest of this year being dominated by cancer. I want my life back, and if I get that, then I’ll celebrate. Quietly.

And now I have to get ready to return to 7.

“The true meaning of covfefe … is love.”

Bet this “adult colouring book” just made your day. Right? Hello?

Conservative commentator Ed Martin is promoting the new adult coloring book he wrote called, “Can’t Trump This: COVFEFE—Top Trump Tweets.” […]

“We have a president who is responsive to the people and communicating directly to them,” Martin said. “Covfefe became this sort of theme of, in my mind, all the Trump energy and all the messaging around it. There is a serious point in this book … I actually said that the true meaning of covfefe, and I think it’s really important, is love. I know that people look up and they say, ‘Well, are you really going to sit there Ed Martin and say Trump is about love?’ And the answer is yes.”

Martin claimed that conversations Trump has supposedly had about the issue of abortion, his appointment of anti-choice judges, and his efforts to defund Planned Parenthood are all proof that Trump operates based in love.

Oh. That kind of love, the christian kind that’s full of oppression, fear, divisiveness, cruelty, non-acceptance and hatred. Yes, that’s not only very conservative and christian, it’s very Tiny Tyrant, too.

RWW has the story.