Pushing an Elephant up the Stairs

Nine and a half weeks...

I have not been around.

That statement is more true than you can possibly imagine.  I have been home for almost two weeks after spending nine and a half weeks in hospital.  Three of them in intensive care. I am lucky to be here at all.  My family were told to expect the worst on more than one occasion and when it seemed I was going to live there was still the risk of organ damage, brain damage, stroke, etc. 

Yes. I am very lucky.  There has been no permanent damage. I will make a full recovery and be back to the way I was before eventually.

If you have read this far then you must be wondering what I am talking about, what happened to me. A couple of entries ago I was complaining about the delay in having my gall bladder removed.  In January I went into hospital via accident and emergency because I was in so much pain and a couple of days later I had the operation I had waited for for so long.  Within a day or two of coming home I was in an operating theatre fighting for my life.  Unfortunately, I developed a blood clot on my right lung.  Multiple complications followed its removal. Around 15 hours in theatre, 56+ units of blood and an Ecmo machine, and especially the dedication and skill of the surgical team  gave me my life back.

I will probably talk about this a lot when I have enough energy to use the computer. For this I apologise in advance. But the traumatic events of these last couple of months have left me grappling to come to terms with what happened.  I have been home for almost two weeks, roughly 8 weeks ago I had just left intensive care and could not even feed myself.  Now I can prepare a simple meal and am mobile within the house, although I cannot manage the stairs.  Carers come in every day and a nurse visits every other day to change the dressings on wounds left by the Ecmo machine.

I hate my helplessness.

I am grateful to be alive.

A Grand Name for a Street ii

mixed media mono print on water colour paper 16x9

A Grand Name for a Street

Sitting in a bar one night in Kos, a slightly inebriated young man asked me what street he was in.  'Bar Street' I said.

'Sure, thats a grand name for a street!' he replied.

This is the first of what I hope will be a series of monoprints based on photographs and sketches I collected over the summer.

Mixed Media - mono print and water colour  on water colour paper - 16x9

Money in the Bank

Mixed Media (20"x16")

I went to the doctors on Monday  and was given antibiotics, more painkillers and something to stop me from feeling so sick. Dratted gall stones!  I shall be so glad when the surgeon finally gets around to removing my gall bladder.  While I was there I asked why, when I was supposed to be on the emergency list I had heard nothing since May.  Apparantly the surgeon is reluctant to operate without input from my orthopaedic specialist.  He has written to him but so far no reply. Lets just hope they both hurry up and get their act together.

Its supposed to help you get to know people...

It feels a little odd to be back at university.  Familiar and unfamiliar at the same time.  Several of my friends from year 0 have gone on, like me, to do Fine Art, so not every one is a stranger.

During the summer the powers that be decided to remove and replace the roof  on the studios. Of course the project has taken longer than it was supposed to and so we are currently working in long thin 'studio' belonging to a local company. One more week and hopefully we will be back where we belong and I can settle into a space that will be mine for the next year.

I dislike the uncertainty of this time of year.  The not knowing quite what one is supposed to be doing. The projects that are not really projects but time fillers.  Or 'ice breakers'.  With the idea that it would help us all to get to know each other, we have each been given a part of a painting to copy/interprut.  The idea is that we then have to talk to each other in order to make the pieces fit together. Below is my effort.  The small image, top right, is my little bit to copy.

(Mixed media, acrylic paint and soft pastels on  board)

So far the project has not worked out for me the way my tutor expected it to.  Far from helping me to make friends, it became one element amongst others that triggered a panic attack.  I sat, staring at the 'puzzle piece' I had been given and at the blank board in front of me, paralysed, heart racing, hands sweating and close to tears. I could neither talk to other students nor begin work.  Suddenly, the room seemed to be filled with strangers.  Talented strangers who were producing the most amazing work before my eyes.  How could I, with my poor drawing skills and clumsy painting technique even pick up a pencil? I felt sure that finally, I would be exposed as a fraud who had some how managed to get into university by accident.

Foolish thoughts, I know. But sometimes knowing does not help.  I spoke to the tutor, packed up my things and left. I have not been back since except for the trip to Liverpool.

I had deceided that today I would pull myself together and go in.  Unfortunately the gall stone problem has raised its unpleasant, nausiating head again and instead I am off to see the doctor this afternoon.

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Another water colour from my Kos sketchbook.

Marika and Marika

Marika and Marika
Originally uploaded by beadmouse.

We arrived on Kos late at night after a four hour flight. We were both tired and a little nervous. The coach trip from the airport to our hotel seemed endless and it was too dark to see much through the windows. We were the last drop off. The hotel was small and appeared to be in a back street well away from the town.

I had packed enough mosquito repellent to protect a small country, but had not thought to use any before our arrival. By the time we had unpacked the sprays and plug-ins, word had got round the local insect population and feasting had already begun. I knew that my holiday was about to begin with huge blisters on my arms and legs and could only hope that antihistamines would prevent the worst of my usual allergic reactions to the dratted creatures.

The apartment was small, clean and reasonable well equipped. We had a bedroom each (both with access to a small balcony) and a view of buildings shielded by trees.

When we arrived, we had noticed that there were still people drinking and chatting on the small terrace at the front of the hotel so we decided to join them for a little while.

Both tired, Marika and I said very little as we sipped our drinks and enjoyed the soft warmth of Kos evenings that we would come to love so much.

The barman was also the receptionist. A tall, friendly Russian who we were to discover was a fount of information about Kos and extremely good company. He had a daughter studying in England and a Greek wife named Marika. My daughter had never met anyone who shared her name before so a photograph was a must.

As relaxation gave way to exhaustion, Marika and I made our way back to our room for a few hours sleep. Our first night on Kos and the beginning of a very special holiday.