Walking through Life

Looking Back and Looking Ahead

Sat down to try another oil painting by starting with sketching the scene from a photo and immediately hit a brick wall. This is obviously not how I’ll be able to work in that medium. Too much detail, too exacting... I would be swearing like a fool and smearing paint around in no time and would only succeed in wasting paint. I’m pretty sure the last time I painted a scene I just used paint right from the get-go and let it unfurl as it wanted. I’ll go back that again and just painting what I see again next. The worst case is that I’ll waste a cheap canvas and some paints but it’s not like I’m doing a commission for the King or something. (Note: If the King happens to read this, I wouldn’t turn down a commission.)

I’d also like to go out and try taking some photos with the old Pentax K1000 that I found in a drawer the other day. It had obviously been languishing there since we moved to Vancouver uhhh... three(?) years ago? I haven’t shot with film for years and I’m curious what might be on the film that is still in the camera. I foolishly opened the back and immediately closed it as soon as I saw film but I’m hoping I maybe only spoiled a couple of shots. I have no idea what might be on the film but I’m looking forward to trying to work with real film again, even if only occasionally.

I have cut back in my Substack posts recently. I had to process some... stuff before writing again. I am somewhat conflicted about being honest now but it’s been bugging me and is, essentially, why I haven’t been writing. I am hoping that, maybe by expressing what is concerning me, I might release the block.

I think that I’m probably notoriously bad for oversharing. Most times I just blurt things out and then regret it afterwards. I guess I don’t feel exceptionally vulnerable on Substack because my posts generally don’t get many readers beyond my family but I’m anxious right now. I’m spending a lot of time worrying about stuff. Stuff I can’t really do anything about... at least not until I hear some concrete next steps from the medical community. I’ve been diagnosed with stage 3 bowel cancer.

I had gotten referred to a surgeon for a “routine” colonoscopy, because I’m a 63-year-old and that’s the kind of thing you’re supposed to do every few years. Not my favourite activity but I understand the importance of not letting things sneak up on you. So, I did and he had some concerns so I guess he had a conversation with an Oncologist and they did a second colonoscopy to take more tissue. He then referred me to the Oncologist and I was sent for a “Sigmoidocscopy.” Have I mixed some of it up? I don’t know. It doesn’t really matter.

Anyway... I met with the Oncologist and there is apparently some cancerous tissue in my bowel. Stage 3, which isn’t the worst it could be but it’s not great. I’ll have to go in and have more tissue removed and then they decide if I’m going on chemotherapy, radiation therapy, both? Who knows at this point.

I’m not thrilled with the prospects. Have an assumingly significant portion of my bowel removed and do some heavy treatment or die, I guess. I mean, I’m going to die eventually like everyone else but I’m now adjusting my outlook for the duration to probably be significantly shorter and the potential for having to do it while wearing a colostomy bag or something of that nature.

It’s life, I guess. Kicking myself for smoking for decades and for working in an environment with numerous toxins and heavy metals that were melted down at temperatures that released it into the very air around me. I should have worn my respirator more than I did. I mean, I did wear it in the plants where we were told to wear them and when doing the jobs where I had obviously toxic fumes and chemical mixtures floating in the air around me. But I probably wasn’t as careful as I could have been. They finally banned smoking on the property in the last year or so that I worked there.

It was damn hot working with molten lead and silver, in some instances in furnaces that were probably designed in the 1920’s. The newer ones weren’t as bad for the fumes and smoke belching out of them but it still wasn’t good. I only did basic training in the plant but we still had to handle 1,000-pound, reinforced fibreglass bags of arsenic dust that were taken to another location on the property and “stored.” I eventually applied and received a transfer to another “cleaner” plant to work in but was laid off during cut backs (again) after a year or so. I took that as my opportunity to take advantage of the Employment Insurance retraining program and returned to school to receive training in another field. Unfortunately, doing so cost me my first marriage as my first wife wanted me to just go back to the plant and carry on and the disagreement spiralled into separation and divorce.

I can’t say with any degree of certainty that this was what lead to my current affliction any more than saying it was, or wasn’t from the years that I smoked cigarettes. I guess it’s just another memory now.

I can’t predict how things will go from here. I probably won’t be in the best shape while I’m in treatment and perhaps not all that great afterwards either. I can try to be philosophical about it but I’m not quite sure exactly how to do that.

I’ll try to write as often as I can and I’ll also try extremely hard not to make my Stack only about my medical experience, although I suspect it is going to creep in. I hope to recover quickly and to spend some time finding things in the world that make me grow as a human being. I want to find more of the good that is in this life we are given and share it as much as possible.

All the people I love should know that I love them and I’ll try to make sure everyone else that I may meet knows that I like them. As long as I can.

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