The Dark Knight Left, Then Came Back.
I’m three weeks out from my first chemo treatment and I feel good. Almost normal, actually. This drawing I started before and then left unfinished during the interim between starting chemo and recovering. When I finally finished it I garnered a lot of positive feedback, which always feels nice. But that’s not the whole story.
The subject of the drawing aside, it represents something of an evolution of meaning for me. I started the drawing a lot like any other I might. I thought it’d be cool. Unlike others, though, I imbued it with a certain amount of desperation. Chemotherapy waited around the corner and I understood its implication only slightly. What if I couldn’t draw or only draw poorly while recovering? It became, among other things, my attempt to suck the marrow out of life before it sucked it out of me. But, as you might know following my Instagram account, I didn’t finish.
I became tired and weak. (If you want to know the details, you should visit my beautiful wife’s blog about her and my experience with cancer here.) Food tasted weird, too. And…it was an exceptional experience. You might say I became too weak to shield myself from the love of others. God. My wife. My family. My friends. I had to except their charity and help and could provide only a “thank you” in return.
The affection has felt really good. It’s been more deeply and genuinely reassuring than I knew could be experienced. It’s ineffable and extends far beyond my understanding.
And then afterwards, I finished it.