Dear Art Studio,

Thank you for patiently waiting while I focused all of my energy these past three years on the pursuit of living through a breast cancer diagnosis. During that overwhelming time, instead of being a refuge for creativity and artistic expression, you became a dumping ground for the endless amounts of cancer paperwork and medical bills. That must have been hard for you, but you accepted the change without complaint. Thank you for that.

Most days, I didn’t even have the strength to stand at the easel, much less the mental acuity to focus on the process of painting. All of that is about to change.

I’m excited to announce that I’m organizing the medical paperwork and clearing out the mess, and preparing to paint again! Even though chemotherapy seems to have forever, or at least so far, damaged the sharpness of my thought processes, I have had a lot of time to think, and consequently, have some new ideas of what to put on canvas.

Soon, we’ll listen to classical music and podcasts and create beauty together. I’m extremely grateful for this second chance at living, and look forward to your part in helping me transition back into the life of a thriving artist.

Thank you, again, for being silently affirming and supportive, and a reminder of what once was and can now be. Let’s get busy!

Love,
Sarah

6th and final (?) surgery – January 29, 2020

Back in February, barely a week after my last breast reconstruction (revision) surgery, I was invited to attend a trip to Rome in late April with a group of breast cancer survivors through the organization, Send Me On Vacation. With the generosity of those of you who supported this trip by buying a painting, I bought my plane ticket before the scope of the corona virus epidemic was fully understood. Without delving into the minutia of the timetable of plane rerouting again and again, and eventual cancellations, the trip was officially postponed until October. Again, minutia, but at this point though I’ve agreed to go on the trip in October, I’ve not yet bought my plane ticket, in large part because the ticket price is considerably more expensive, but also, with KLM I got a ticket voucher, not a refund, so I’m limited in purchasing options, and who knows what is going to transpire in the coming months?

Getting pricked for corona virus antibodies a second time because the first test was inconclusive.

One thing I’m not is a great seamstress. I am big on ideas and enthusiasm and have been slowly attempting to reconfigure some of my clothes to adjust them to fit this torn apart and put back together body of mine so that I can look cute and feel cute when and if I eventually go to Rome….or anywhere. In this instance, frugality + desperation + time = creativity.

This was a small silk robe that no longer covered me properly, but I loved it so found a kimono at the resale shop and cut it up to add both length and width to the robe. Now, it’s both cute and modest. Hat tip to Lacey Crawford for inspiring the idea. The ever Amazing Reese said the old lady house slippers had to go. 🙂 (I saved the pom poms for an upcoming project.)

This was a very cute sweater that I didn’t feel confident in because the deep indention in my armpit area where my lymph nodes were removed showed. I actually took this one to the tailor and she added the silk sleeves for me and voila — it’s dreamy and covers my armpit area completely.

This shirt I totally built from scratch — no pattern, just a strip of fabric. I sort of copied one of my shirts, but turns out I didn’t have enough fabric to do exactly what I had envisioned, so I improvised. If you see me in person wearing this, don’t look too closely at the seams. It’s a blue eyelet jersey fabric.

The worldwide corona virus self isolating quarantine is not that different from how I’ve been living since starting chemotherapy back in 2017. Self isolation is hard, but why would I go through all the work of surviving breast cancer only to disregard the world’s health experts? I’ve always been a team player, and to support Team World, I’m happy to wear a mask in public, sewn by our daughter, Anna.

Expect a hug from me two weeks after the end of worldwide quarantine restrictions.

Happy hour six feet apart on the front porch drinking wine through a straw with maker Anna in the background. Under the mask, I’m smiling.

The website for Send Me On Vacation clearly stated that just because you apply for a vacation, it doesn’t necessarily mean you will be granted one. Since it had been five months since my application was submitted, I figured that meant that I didn’t get it. But last week, an email arrived inviting me to attend a  Revive and Thrive vacation in Rome (Italy, not Texas) in late April of this year! (It’s going to be my first trip to Europe.)

Part of the agreement with Send Me On Vacation is that I am responsible for my own transportation costs from my home to the destination hotel and back. Since the Amazing Reese and I are not frequent travelers by any stretch of the imagination and don’t have a credit card for mileage points,  I’m asking around for suggestions/advice on how to buy an affordable plane ticket without getting scammed. (So far, I’ve looked at Kayak and Google  search for flights.)

In order to fund this journey, I am making these paintings available for sale for a limited time at $100 each. The tulips and the man on the green sofa are oil on linen but the others are all oil on board. The squares are approximately 16″ x 16″.

Below, the Sarah Hazel Personal Story is my 300 words or less Send Me On Vacation application essay. As I re-read it months later, it feels overwhelming and desperate. Much of this breast cancer journey has felt like that. I’ve cried more in the time since my breast cancer diagnosis than if you add up all the tears from my whole life before diagnosis.

BUT…….

Through a great program called the Flatwater Foundation, I’ve found an amazing psychotherapist, and, starting last October, we talk once a week via video therapy. (From their website,) Flatwater Foundation is dedicated to providing those diagnosed with cancer, their families and loved ones access to mental health therapy and family support. This includes access to both traditional and non-traditional methods of psychological counseling.  

My therapist has really helped/is really helping me with the process of emotional healing from breast cancer. It’s been amazing to see the transformation in a few months from abject terror at getting my blood drawn to one of mild-ish concern. I’m so grateful that this therapy is helping guide me through the fear back to a place of calm. We’ve got more work to do, but I’m getting there.

The last of my breast reconstruction surgeries was two weeks ago. Everything looks good and is healing well. About three or so more office visits to the plastic surgeon to finalize the noobs and I’ll be all done! Whew!

Sarah Hazel
Personal Story
September 2019

It took me about a year after I first noticed a lump in my breast, and then my armpit to finally get a mammogram. When you are hustling several jobs to help pay the mortgage so you don’t lose the house, there’s not a good time, or money, honestly, to schedule a doctor appointment. When I finally scheduled the appointment, and subsequent biopsies, because it was summer and the beginning of a holiday week, the results came back before I actually got a call from the doctor explaining them. Over and over the inanimate results screamed from the page, “associated with a relatively unfavorable outcome”. Within a month I was sitting in an infusion chair being pumped full of chemicals to kill the cancer growing in my breast and lymph nodes. 

What no one tells you when you are diagnosed with breast cancer is how betrayed you feel by your own body. The scars where they removed my breasts aren’t my only scars. The mental and emotional toll of these last two years has been relentless. My beautiful breasts (may they rest in peace) tried to kill me. If I’m being completely honest, they did a little bit. I’m broken — mentally, physically, emotionally — my spirituality got a beat down, too. It’s all been so overwhelming. 

But, I’m desperate not to be “broken” forever. To that end, I’m currently enrolled in a twelve week Livestrong program at the YMCA, working to improve my physical health. I’m in the process of trying to find the right therapist to help me process my fragile mental state. And I firmly believe that a vacation will give my emotional state a chance to breathe deeply, love wholly, and laugh freely once again. Please grant me a Send Me On Vacation, Inc. vacation with my precious husband.

A final note — the Amazing Reese will not be joining me on this trip. It is only for breast cancer survivors.