The Pain of Art

Oh, hell, its got nothing to do with being an artist or a ‘drawer’ type of person, its a combination of god knows what as I stumble toward six decades…

1) kidney stone is a real bother; and no doubt will soon need another procedure at the hospital to remove the blockage from my ureter…a ureteroscopy. Google it if you dare. Probably will have this done in a week or two.

2) with my mother’s impending transition…death…however you call it, my reaction to this has been much more physical than mental: lower back pains, cramping, and I’m really unable to walk much more than about five minutes before the discomfort pushes me to rest. I’ve got an appointment with the physical therapist to help with stretching and the like. God! If I still weighed another 30 lbs like I did last year at this time…it would be worse, I’m sure. And it’s still unclear if this is simply ancillary to the kidney stone or simply a part of my general stress reaction to my Mom’s imminent death.

3) I’ve cried very little in the past few weeks, so other than a general melange of sadness and not-
quite-depression (call ‘me the blues) I’ve manifested my Mom’s circumstances in my back.

4) when my Mom finally passes, then I enter all the new territory of actual bereavement, possible tears and emotional release…not certain why I’ve somehow held it in, but that’s me, I guess. I’d rather weep like a baby rather than feel incapacitated by muscular pain.

5) of course, rounding this out is the bit of arthritis an x-ray revealed in my lower left back. I can’t believe that it would manifest this suddenly so I’m still guessing that my stress gets held in my ‘weakest’ area. Hmm.

What does all this have to do with scribblings! Not a fucking thing.



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