Hospital Detail

     I never paid attention to the furnishings of a hospital room until I had to draw them. It's amazing the amount of clutter there is in a hospital! Thankfully, by the time of my partner's second hospitalization I had begun to take photographs of the details that normally go unnoticed by patients and their families: the mechanisms underneath a hospital bed, how the iv tubing is strung, biohazard and sharps containers...

Aaaah...

     I love when I make some headway!  Just finished revising a whole chapter that explains what multiple myeloma is and what initial treatment my partner received to combat the disease. Oddly, this was one of my favorite chapters to work on. It was surprisingly calming to break down multiple myeloma into easy to understand, digestible parts. Maybe working on this chapter made me feel as if I had some kind of control. 

     I just scanned several sketchbook pages of the next chapter into Photoshop. Already, I can see how the final drawing style is beginning to seep into these sketches. I'm getting closer to easier revisions.

Impatience

     As I chip away at revising the first two sketchbook drawings of The Donkey in the Garden, I can't help but feel a bit impatient. I began drawing the third sketchbook around the time my partner came home from the hospital. This is after she came home from the hospital the first time and then within a week was readmitted with pneumonia. I'm still revising the part where she is bedridden after her diagnosis.

     Fortunately, when I'm drawing I can get completely lost in the present line, and I don't think any further than the cell in front of me. I have to just remember this.

Bone Tired

     It's Friday, and am I beat! It's been a very long week. First of all, the weather is absolutely gorgeous, plenty of sunshine and late morning warmth after a couple days of light rain. Unfortunately, this makes for a crazy high pollen count. Students and I are congested. Sneezing. Coughing. Asthmatics wheezing.   That by itself is tiring. 

     But also, I know a young man who is dying of colon cancer. He's in hospice, and us knowing that he will soon be leaving us, while we still hang on to every moment of life with him is intensely wearying. I wouldn't have it any other way. Yesterday, on the way home from visiting with his mother, there was so much beauty in the pollen-filled air, golden from sunset.

     Anyway, the strong combination of human tragedy with unmistakeable beauty reminds me of Eric Drooker's graphic novel Blood Song. A gorgeous wordless book.

     Look for his art on the cover of the latest New Yorker magazine. 

Home Sick

     Started catching a cold yesterday at school. Not surprising...my kids've been dropping like flies from flu and strep, and of course, no matter how many tissues and hand sanitizer I set out strategically around the classroom, those little fingers just somehow wind up in their noses and mouths. 

     I can't say that I'm disappointed being home from work. After treating myself to a hot bath and ginger-laden chicken soup, I'm happy as a clam working on Donkey, and I'm even feeling better. 

     I've also had some time to go through my bookshelves, finding my favorite graphic novels. When I buy graphic novels, I usually don't go past the artwork. I know...sad...because I know I'm missing some great stories (and it has occurred to me that someone just might not get past my artwork). Anyway, it's the quality of line that pulls me in. And once pulled in, if the story is just as compelling, I'm in love! Here's a couple of my favorites:

     And after reading the graphic novel Laika by Nick Abadzis, I cried and cried.

Focus

     Just got home not too long ago from a memorial for a friend of my partner. Turns out that this friend died of the exact strain of blood cancer that my partner had. The memorial was beautiful and complete with a ritual smashing of ceramic myeloma cells. During the celebration I decided to devote my graphic novel time to finishing A Donkey in the Garden.

Therapy

     My health coverage only covers a very finite amount of one-on-one counseling sessions, and I knew that I was gonna need more than that with my partner having a deadly cancer and all. So I attended a couple sessions with a wonderful therapist and then got to work on A Donkey in the Garden. It was a productive way for me to wait in the hospital, and drawing the nightmare was a way to be present with it while having a little bit of space from it at the same time.

     It's been two years since the cancer diagnosis, and some drawings bring the horror right back. To this day, my partner can't bear to glance at them.