Trying to get back in the swing of things with regard to painting — working through my available art supplies and using old photos I’ve kept on hand (for years, in this case) for inspiration. This is a 9″ x 12″ oil on linen.

Girl and Bunny

Painting this was a happy struggle. The happy because I’m so grateful to be back in the art studio. The struggle because my body and soul ostensibly took the same beating from breast cancer, and I honestly wasn’t sure if either my body or soul could handle the work required to paint. (Both can!)

It is always a boost of confidence when a loved one likes the portrait of their loved one. I’m pleased to say that is the case here.

This is a 20″ x 24″ oil on linen.

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.

I’m happy to announce that my painting, Chemotherapy Self Portrait, was accepted into the Eleventh Annual Juried Exhibition at Archway Gallery.

It’s a very vulnerable painting to present, but here it is for all to see. For my thoughts on painting it, when I was in the midst of the nastiness of chemotherapy a year and a half ago, click here. Also of note, this week is the one year mark since the end of all infusions. That was a rough patch. And next week will hopefully be my last surgery to put me back together. I can see glimpses of light at the end of the tunnel.

The opening reception is this coming Saturday, July 6th, from 5 – 8 pm.

There have been so many stops and starts to “living” while undergoing breast cancer treatment and the ensuing reconstructive surgeries, that painting and other creative endeavors in life have taken the furthest seat at the back of the bus. All of my focus — mental, physical, emotional, even spiritual was spent just trying to be as healthy (alive) as I could before and after every new milestone. Just get to the end of chemotherapy. Just get through the mastectomies surgery. Get through radiation. Get through reconstruction surgery. Get through 2nd reconstruction surgery. Even now, I’m focused on being as ready as possible before my 3rd reconstructive surgery in mid July. It will be 2 years at the end of this July of put on the brakes, put on the brakes, accelerate a little bit and live a little, put on the brakes, accelerate, put on the brakes, live a little, brake….it really messes with your head.

Something I’ve known about myself for a while is that I generally can do only one thing well at a time. Once upon a time when I was a fancy runner, all of my focus went toward running faster and faster. Then, when getting our yard and garden into shape, I perpetually had twigs in my hair, dreamed about plants, and literally had a green thumb. And then, a dear friend invited me to take a painting class with her and lo and behold, life had me taking an unexpected turn. With gobs of encouragement and new art supplies from the Amazing Reese, I embarked on a painting journey that has been incredibly rewarding and satisfying. So much so that over the years, people have found ways to compensate me for a painting. Even commissioned me! But, it’s been a good long while since I’ve been in the studio, other than to file and organize endless amounts of cancer paperwork, and do I even know how to paint anymore? Did chemotherapy kill all of my creative brain cells along with killing cancer cells? (Hopefully killing ALL cancer cells though I won’t be officially declared cancer free until a full ten years has passed. One year down, nine to go.)

So, between surgeries, only somewhat ready, and terribly apprehensive, back in the studio I went to work on (drum roll, please) a commission! After the initial sketch, it took several weeks of nerves, doubts, and stalling (self sabotage) before I fully mustered up the courage to put actual paint to canvas. It was humbling/exhilarating to once again be immersed in the process of painting — connecting me to a creative, confident aspect of my psyche that has lain dormant for so long.

Thank you, dear patron, for believing in my abilities as an artist. It’s an incredible blessing. This painting is 16″ x 20″ oil on linen and was a pleasure to paint.

(Want a painting of your loved one? Commission me — we have medical bills to pay.)

It is with deep sadness that I report that our sweet Tilly the Wonder dog passed away this morning. It was very sudden. She will be sorely missed.

There is no fence to balance on with a breast cancer diagnosis. Since July 2017, the “greener grass” side of treatment has required heavy doses of herbicide (chemotherapy) to kill the weeds (cancer cells), aggressive pruning (surgery/mastectomies), additional weeding (radiation), all before replanting and grafting new branches in a carefully pruned garden (reconstruction surgery).

From my limited knowledge and vantage point, the replanting and grafting part of my breast reconstruction surgery is progressing nicely. I’ve followed all of the doctor’s strict orders, and hopefully will reap the harvest of an extended, healthy lifetime. (Doctor’s orders included staying inside for weeks on end and sleeping in a recliner.) Just last week I was able to sleep in a bed for the first time since surgery (yeehaw!) and with my new found freedom of being allowed outside, I’m slowly emerging from a cocoon of inactivity and enjoying small walks (around the block) with the Amazing Reese and Tilly the Wonder dog.

This side of the fence is definitely greener, especially considering that the alternative was death. Many thanks to the team of professionals who have kept me alive and soon-to-be flourishing — dozens and dozens of people who have worked and are working together on my behalf. It’s so wonderful to be pruned, grafted, and replanted in a verdant, green garden in this great big world!

The lovely view from the hospital room window really does have a soothing effect on my well being after breast reconstruction surgery on Monday.  I’m doing really well — which is remarkable considering that the surgery which was supposed to be 12 hours ended up being 16 hours! The plastic surgeon took extra time during surgery because everything under my skin wasn’t perfect….not perfect because breast cancer treatment, while life saving was also damaging. And even though we did lots of tests to make sure that I was a good candidate for this type of surgery (diep flap reconstruction) (I was), the plastic surgeon needed extra time during surgery to get things lined up and sewn together just right. I KNOW that it’s lined up just right because…

My favorite part of the doctors and nurses checking up on me post surgery is hearing the strong beat of the doppler as they (we all) listen for a pulse in my newly rearranged body parts. The first day of doppler flap listening was every 30 minutes, then every hour, then every two hours, and now every four hours – progress. Everything that is supposed to be warm is warm, and everywhere that is supposed to have a pulse has a pulse. Amen. Alleluia.

I’ll be laying low for a while, recovering. I’m feeling more hopeful than I have in a while, though, so that’s good.