Monday, August 29, 2022

Port-a-cath and Heart-a-cath Mugs

port-a-cath and heart-a-cath mugs

Studio Tour

The second annual Yakima Labor Day Artist's Studio Tour is coming up this weekend. This year I'll have new work, including dishes, mugs, bulbs, and sculpture. As I have been cleaning my studio and getting set up for the tour, I realize that a lot of the new work is explicity cancer-themed, including a small batch of mugs inspired by my horrified fascination with the port-a-cath that I had during chemo this year.


heart-a-cath mugs

Cancer Mugs

For those of you who haven't been obsessed with this item all year, or who haven't memorized everything from my many posts about my breast cancer experience over the past 10 months (I just looked it up, I've written 23 posts tagged "cancer"), a port-a-cath is a little device surgically implanted under the skin to deliver chemo. The Adriamycin ("Red Devil" or "Dreaded Red") in the A/C chemo, in particular, is hard on the veins if it is infused via an IV, so it is, instead, infused via a port in the chest. The port-a-cath makes it easier to access the vein for infusion (much more comfortable for me, the patient), and, as I understand it, having the chemo drugs enter nearer the heart means more turbulence in the vein so that the poison moves more quickly away from the infusion site.

port-a-cath mugs

In December, or maybe late November, I had surgery to get the port installed. In May, when I had my lumpectomy, the port was taken out and I asked to keep it because I had been making art based on it all year, but I didn't quite know what it looked like (disappointingly, my port-a-cath was a less interesting object than the ones I used for my clay molds--my friend Amy got one that looks like one I created).


port-a-cath mug

 
Starting in December, I spent 20 weeks hanging out with the folks in the Northstar infusion room for my chemotherapy treatments. The people working there were uniformly great, just wonderfully patient and kind and helpful. They made the experience just that much more tolerable with how they treated us patients. I went into the process scared and worried, and spent a chunk of that time feeling unwell, but they explained things and did their jobs in a way that reduced the stress and anxiety. For this reason, I started thinking about how I'd like to acknowledge their efforts, and the efforts of my surgeon and oncologist, with something I made after the experience.


port-a-cath bulbs

I had started making port-a-cath bulbs earlier in the year. They fit both my mood and anxiety, in incorporating the port-a-cath and the catheter line, as well as fitting the level of effort I felt I could sustain. I didn't want to make art that was all pink ribbons and needles, both because that seemed cliche, but also because that wasn't really my experience (the needle for the port is shaped differently than the kind for a vaccine). The physical object that seemed to capture some of the creepiness and anxiety and strangeness of cancer, and chemo especially, was this thing I could feel under my skin. So I recreated the port-a-cath and added the line of the catheter. As I worked more and more with this imagery, I started wrapping the lines around and through the bulbs themselves in a way meant to be suggestive of getting under the skin.


heart-a-cath mug before glazing


The bulbs were important to me in working through the ideas in winter, but I'm not sure how the nurses at Northstar or my doctors would react to this random art object. A mug seems more accessible, so I wanted to try it. When I was feeling up to throwing near the end of chemo, I threw some mugs with the idea of adding some ports as decoration. Quickly realizing that drinking coffee out of something that was implanted under the skin might be gross, I switched to heart shapes for most of the mugs.

heart-a-cath mugs with the new glaze inside

A long time passed between when I finished building these in May and when I got around to firing and glazing them in August. I'm feeling a bit ambivalent about some of them because I tried out some new glazes that didn't look exactly how I anticipated. Now I'm also feeling strange about whether any of this is something that would be appealing to people who aren't me.

the cat likes my mugs (during glazing)

This weekend's Artist Studio Tour should be a good time to show them and see what people think. Of course, the obvious catch is that if I show them for sale and people buy them, I won't have them to give as gifts to my medical teams, but if people don't like them, I won't want to give them as gifts.

The clay, in just this one mug dunted (bubbled) during glaze firing I don't know why because it should have been the same clay as the rest of these mugs and a whole bunch of other pieces I made with the same clay last year


I also only made eight mugs. It's not that mugs are that difficult to make, but all year I've had trouble with projects that require sustained energy levels within a short period of time. Press-molding bulbs can be done pretty quickly and with minimal effort, surface decoration can be suspended for a few days, and building small sculpture also can be done in fits and starts. But throwing requires a clean wheel, wedged clay, throwing, clean up, trimming at the right stage of drying, attaching handles and decoration at the right stage, and then more clean up. I've had relatively few pockets of time this year where I could rely on having a fully functioning body for long enough that I could commit to mugs.

heart-a-cath mug with new glaze inside, old glaze (that I've used before) outside


Radiation "Boost"

Of course I am hoping that the body problem will be over by the end of September. Today was my last whole breast and lymph node radiation treatment. Starting tomorrow I have a 5 day "boost" of radiation to the tumor bed or the hole where the tumor used to be. This smaller field of radiation should mean that my armpit, throat, and upper chest can start to heal (as long as I don't listen too closely to all the women who say that the two weeks after radiation are the worst). 

setting up port-a-cath bulbs in my studio for the Tour

My armpit is getting very red and irritated. I'd say it looks angry. The rest of my chest looks like a have a sunburn, as predicted, though it looks like I made very strange choices about what I would have been wearing to get this sunburn. Before radiation, a lot of people said "it's like a bad sunburn" and while this might be true, I have never before had a sunburn in this area. My back also has a bit of redness, though I wouldn't classify this as a "bad" sunburn (aside from the fact that all sunburns are bad).



postcard for the Labor Day weekend tour.


During the last radiation oncologist meeting, my doctor prescribed me some topical lidocaine to numb the most painful areas a bit. This helps me forget about the area until it starts to wear off. Unfortunately I am not allowed to put on lotion before radiation, so the morning is uncomfortable. With just 4 radiation days left before the Studio Tour, I'm starting to think that I should be feeling ok this weekend. 

brochure with locations for the 2022 Tour


I hope you consider coming to see me at my studio this weekend. Tickets are $10 and can be purchased at the door (of my house). Tickets get you into the whole tour, all 3 days and all 8 locations. The tour starts Saturday, September 3, from 10-4, continues Sunday 10-4, and again Monday, September 5, from 10-12. Chris Otten and Monika Lemmon will also be showing at my studio, 203 S. 8th Ave, in Yakima.

Wednesday, August 24, 2022

Finished Sculpture, 2 weeks left of radiation



new port-a-cath sculpture

This week I am continuing the countdown to the end of chemo (8 days) and the start of the second annual Labor Day Weekend Artist's Studio Tour in Yakima (9 days, but different ones). The studio tour, sponsored by Pamela Searcy's Artebella Gallerywill be at my home studio, as well as 5 other studios/houses and Oak Hollow Gallery, on September 3, 4, and 5. Saturday and Sunday the tour runs 10-4, Monday 10-12. Tickets are $10 per person and can be purchased at my studio on the day of the tour or ahead of time.


detail of another new(ish) port-a-cath sculpture

Since I last posted, a week ago, I've fired and unloaded two kilns. A low-fire kiln with cone 04 glazed sculpture and a cone 6 kiln with mostly plates and mugs (images coming soon). It feels like a got a lot done, but the hard work was glazing, not loading and firing. Yesterday I took photos of all the pieces and started preparing posts about the new work.

new-ish port-a-cath sculpture

I've been feeling an increased amount of fatigue from radiation. I've also been feeling foggy, like I can't think or remember as well as usual. I think this is also from the treatments. The result has been that I can do repetitive tasks like glazing and photographing, but I've got less stamina and motivation. I also feel like my writing or planning is not as sharp as usual.

the other side of the yellow one I was working on in April

Though I have 8 days of radiation left, I've got only three of the whole breast and lymph node radiation. Next Tuesday we start on the 5 day "boost" of radiation to the tumor bed. Yesterday the radiation techs drew on me for a while after my radiation treatment. This simulation or planning appointment was to get images and make plans for how and where the boost will be delivered. I am mostly looking forward to them laying off the upper chest and armpit area.

I finished building this one back in February!

My radiation appointment went long yesterday because of both reasonable and unreasonable issues. When I first got there, I was informed it would take an extra 6-10 minutes; apparently the ambulance was late bringing someone from the hospital for their appointment. Then they delayed again to recalibrate the machine (or something). Finally I had my radiation about 15-20 minutes late, followed by the extra time for planning/drawing on me.

another view of the same one  

As I was walking out of the radiation room, dizzy from fatigue or from holding my hands above my head for so long, the nurse who usually brings me to my doctor check in on Thursdays seemed to be motioning for me to get on the scale. Since it wasn't Thursday, I walked past her. She followed me to the changing room and informed me that it was "doctor day." I reminded her that "doctor day" for me is Thursday, so she checked with someone and then confirmed that it was my doctor day regardless.

and another view


I asked if they'd moved my appointment to coincide with the planning thing, since my doctor just came into the radiation room to approve the drawings on my breast. The nurse didn't seem to know, but she took my weight and walked me to an exam room where she took my temperature, blood pressure, and pulse, and explained that everyone doing radiation needed to see the doctor every 5 days. I allowed as how Thursday was less than five days ago, but she didn't seem impressed. This is my 6th week of radiation and I've had doctors meetings on Thursdays for the past 4 weeks, but what do I know?

poster for the Studio Tour

Next she asked after my young kids. I corrected her, realizing that she had no idea who I was, but still unsure whether that was because she was confused or because she thought I was someone else. She took paper notes on my vitals and the answers to the usual questions (are you in pain? fatigue? have you had a fall?), then asked for my full name and birth date. Then she stared at the screen, hmmmed a bit, repeated my full name and informed me that I was right: it was not "doctor day" for me. I'm glad they ask my name before radiation. I'm curious how that many clues (I told her radiation was running late, I told her I didn't have a doctor's meeting, I told her why, etc), didn't trigger her to confirm my identity sooner. As to why I didn't tell her my name right away, I don't know if that's the fatigue or I was convinced by her confidence.


postcard for the studio tour


Hopefully that's the last interesting thing to happen during radiation this year. If you are in the Yakima area, I hope to see you at my studio on Labor Day weekend. If I can find the energy and motivation, I'll post more on the new work before that day.
 

Monday, August 15, 2022

Counting Down & Replacing the Roof


procrastination bulbs (or bulbs I made instead of glazing)

Counting Down: Radiation & Classes

This week I am counting down the days left of radiation and summer. I've got just about three weeks left of radiation (today was #18 out of 33 total treatments). I can't tell if I am looking forward to the end or dreading it. I want to be done, but I also worry that the side effects will increase to a point where I will be in pain or at least uncomfortable. I am also starting to feel mild return-to-campus anxiety (panic?), because the end of radiation and start of convocation are so close together. I feel like the countdown to the end of one is the count up to the start of the other. I also feel both worried about my enrollments and a little funny about returning to teaching after this strange break

my hair is now long enough to make its own shapes without my permission

In a normal year, I enter summer at a run, feeling like I want to be done with school and not think about it for a long time. Then I spend a bunch of time in the studio making work, maybe take a trip or two with my family, and basically spend my time how I choose. Then around about late August or early September, I start getting excited about going back to campus. I start thinking of projects, ways to improve my classes, and generally I start thinking I'd like to see some students again on campus.


a port-a-cath bulb made from a sprig of my ACTUAL port-a-cath

This year was anything but normal. And as we enter the second half of August, I decidedly do not feel the way I normally do about going back to school. I didn't feel the need to get away in June and I don't feel the normal excitement to go back. To be clear, I think my lack of excitement has everything to do with the worry I feel about possibly starting school while also feeling serious side effects from radiation. I do feel ready to see students, I'm just worried that I won't feel well enough to teach well.

the (more interesting looking) port-a-cath sprigs I made before mine came out

I haven't taught at all since December, so I never had that feeling of wanting to get away at the end of the year. In fact, around about May and June I was pretty sure that I'd be finishing radiation with plenty of time to spare before the end of summer and the start of classes. Instead, the second surgery and the extended recovery time from that pushed radiation back to the point that I was happy that it would, in fact, be finished before classes started.

lots of the real port-a-cath

The only trips Sean and I have taken since last summer have been the trips to Seattle for surgery or for other doctor's visits. Alison didn't come along on any of those, both because she had school and because Covid restrictions don't allow her in the hospitals or clinics. In fact, she has only been in Northstar Lodge one time. I took her along to radiationi one morning and let her wait in the lobby during my treatment just because it is such an interesting building (with the waterfall and pool and garden in between the two sections) that I wanted her to see it.

not my actual port-a-cath

Even having folks visit us has been harder than anticipated. We didn't know our summer schedule for a long time and basically had to stay put to be ready for radiation to start at any time. Since November, now that I think of it, the longest I've gone without an appointment of some kind was the four or five weeks of recovery after the second surgery. In November and December, after I was diagnosed with breast cancer, we were scrambling to get consults and port surgery and scans and tests of all kinds. In December and January, with the first type of chemo I was at Northstar three days in a row, then sick for 2-5, then back the next week. In January through April, I was at Northstar weekly or two days a week for the other type of chemo. Then it was driving to Seattle for MRIs, pre-ops, post-ops, consults, and surgeries. Then the disorienting (and worrying) 4-5 week break for recovery, all the while trying to determine if we were supposed to be meeting with radiation, then OT and PT weekly and radiation daily during the week.

my port a cath (mold), pressed into a bulb

I was telling Sean that, in a way I think it is good that school starts up right after radiation ends. If I went from constant doctor's visits for 10 months, then stopped cold-turkey without something to focus on, I imagine that would be disorienting and, strangely, upsetting. I think it will be good for me to have something to distract me from the sudden shock of no longer dealing, every day, with the thing that has been the all-consuming focus of nearly a year of my life.

the bottom layer of my kiln that still somehow does not have any glazed pieces in it despite the fact that I have a show in 17 days!

I've heard from other folks who had cancer treatment that ended, that this time can, in fact, be hard to handle. That the change of pace and the lack of regular interaction with doctors can leave them feeling adrift or disconcerted. I'm glad I have a job I actually enjoy to return to in September. Now if only I can get my chemo-fogged and radiation-fatigued brain to focus on how nice it will be to be back in the YVC clay studio, instead of worrying that I'll be hurting (or overwhelmed) when I return.


the front of the house after the shake was stripped off the front part of the roof


New Roof

Last week progress started on our new roof. The project took up a suprising amount of my time, given that I didn't do any of the work. The roofers (from Dunn-Wright Roofing, subcontracted through Alpine Roofing, our roof was complicated and our experience was great, let me know if you want details) did literally all the roofing work, but after pulling off the shake in the back section, they opened up access to some wiring that needed Sean's attention. With Sean's attention on the wiring and his actual body on the roof, he needed my help in the house flipping breakers, checking outlets and lights, and bringing him tools through the attic.

insulation boards stacked in front of the house for the new roof, old shake on the front-facing part of the roof, and the conveyor belt truck ready to deliver the new shingles 


The roof was cedar shake and basically needed to be replaced since around when we moved in (in 2007). There were two layers of shake in some places, three in others and the shake was drying and curling up. Some pieces had falled down. I like the look of the shake, and the roof wasn't actually leaking, but it really was getting to be time to replace it. The shape of our roof (really two separate roof areas plus a dormer and a porch roof) made the project more complicated, as did the insulation we had installed.

the front and side of our house, after the shingles on the porch were replaced

The first part of the house was built before 1900, we aren't sure when, but our research in the reading room at the library this summer leads us to believe it was after 1889, when the map (probably) doesn't show our house and before 1900, when they started keeping records. The house was added onto over the years, and the result is three distinct sections with different roof heights and angles, as well as the porch and a dormer.

the north side of the house, with the dormer visible in the back (left), shingles nearly completed


The tallest part, in the front of the house has a roundish shape, like a barn, with the roof line made up of two distinct angles on each side (front and back). The roof itself in this section forms the upper walls of the bedrooms as well as an attic that is high enough in the middle to sit in comfortably. In the last year, Sean added a pull down ladder and flooring to this attic section and Alison and her friends have been using it a space as kind of a club house.

The clubhouse attic, cleaned up after the roofing project



The middle section of the house also has an upper story, but the roof is lower, with the peak at a 90 degree angle to the peak of the front section. The roof also forms the walls of the top floor in this section, but the "attic" here is less than two feet tall and it isn't possible to enter this "attic". There is also a dormer on the side facing the nearest neighbor, a building with four condos (presumably the view was better and the neighbors were farther away when the dormer was added). 

the top of this part of the middle roof is the long skinny attic with the suspect wiring

Behind these two recently shake covered roof sections is my clay studio with a nearly flat roof with no shake or shingle. This roof is only one story high and we redid it shortly after moving in. Last week the roofers used it as a raised area to cut wood and insulation board before handing it up. 

the clay studio roof makes a nice, mostly flat, work space once you get up there

The roofing project is complicated because of the multiple different steep angles, as well as the multiple layers of shake that needed to be removed. But it is also complicated because we they added insulation in an unusual way. Because the roof forms part or all of the the walls of all the upstairs rooms, insulating the attic only didn't provide insulation for much of the upstairs. We don't have ducting for HVAC upstairs and we have always had to heat and cool those rooms separately from the rest of house, but they also aren't well insulated.

the best view I can get of the three different roof parts (tall, barn style street facing on the left, flat clay studio roof on the right)

We called around to ask about options for insulation and roofing and had several visits with roofers, but most roofers didn't want to do anything besides the roof. They'd take off the shake and put down asphalt shingle, but that's it. We were impressed when we talked to Mike from Alpine Roofing in Tricities. He suggested using foam insulation board on top of the roof, then adding the shingle on top of that. 

the tiny attic space in the middle roof, open for wiring improvement (and cat exploration)


Replacing the cedar shake would have been expensive, but also a potential fire risk. In fact, after the shake was off, we could see a couple of areas of the roof that had small amounts of fire damage, apparently before the shake, or at least before the second layer. We had also heard that our homeowner's insurance might raise our rates or refuse to insure us if we replaced the shake, though I don't think we looked into that.

The top of the middle roof, giving some idea how hard it would be to add insulation under the roof (between the wall and roof)


We initially were concerned about the thickness the foam boards would add to the roof, but insulating with blown insulation in the attic wasn't a great option (with an one attic just about 2 feet wide at its base. There wasn't really room to adding much insulation between the walls of the rooms and the roof. There was also some talk of dew points at the joists, but I might not have followed all of this conversation.


Sean wearing one of the roofer's safety harnesses for part of his wiring work


The reason the roofing project took me out of the studio is that there was some old wiring in the tiny attic at the peak of the middle roof section. Once the shake was off, the roofers were concerned that their nails would hit that wiring so they asked Sean to move it. Sean, meanwhile, wanted to get at that wiring because it was old and wired in a confusing way. This wire is on a breaker that controls some, but not all of the lights and outlets in three rooms upstairs, some, but not all of the lights and outlets in three rooms on the main floor and something else in the basement. It also had phantom current, meaning that when our daughter shut off her bedroom light, our bedroom light (which was off) got brighter. Not ideal, I'm thinking.


Sean not wearing a safety harness for another part of the work

The roofers have been fast, efficient, communicative, and extraordinarily helpful. I highly recommend their work. To help Sean get to the wiring, they removed some slats in that section and cut a hole in the larger attic roof so Sean could climb out and access the lower roof. They even rigged a few boards as a way for him to step ("safely") from one roof to the other. After they left on the first day, he climbed out on the roof to test and adjust and, eventually, replace the wiring in the tiny attic space. 

a harness rope leading out of the first hole cut in the big attic to reach the mini-attic


Since climbing in and out of the attic and onto the roof was difficult (and not the safest activity, imho), Sean had me hand him stuff through the hole as he needed it. He also had me to turn the breaker on and off and check outlets and lights throughout the house. Obviously checking the breaker and the lights was easy enough, but he started doing this on Monday of last week which was HOT, so climbing into the attic (which, remember was uninsulated, in a section of the house without AC, and with the shake removed was partly open to the sun) was not pleasant. I also helped him pull some wire through the walls in a couple of spots to replace old wire or figure out why some wire wasn't attached to anything.

Alison standing up through the (third) hole cut in the larger attic. The third hole was cut to give Sean access to touch up the paint on the top of the chimney after he finished the wiring on the other side.


I feel like a huge whiner complaining about the heat in the attic, since the roofers spent the entire day on top of that roof in the same heat, and after they left, Sean did the same. In my situation I spent less than 10 minutes at a time in the heat, but I was also under instructions from the lymphedema therapist to avoid the heat because of the risk of lymphedema on the arm and side where they removed the lymph nodes. 


the view of our front lawn from the hole cut in the attic roof


Sean ended up working on the wiring for several days, before and after the roofers were there. He got up there around 5:30 one day to do some work before they started at 6. Needless to say, we were all up (or at least not sleeping) around 6, because people removing shake and then hammering down the excessive amount of nails before drilling and hammering in the insulation and other materials is a noisy operation. The street-facing side of the front roof is directly behind and above our heads when we are in bed. At one point they were literally hammering a few feet from our pillows.

the front roof, after the shake came off, view from the hole

Because the opening to the attic is in her room, and because the wiring issue meant her window AC wasn't working some of the time, Alison ended up sleeping in the basement. Luckily, Sean had finished the basement earlier this summer, and we bought a guest bed at IKEA the day before one of my surgeries. She's still sleeping down there in an effort to let her sleep a bit late, since she has such long days at band camp during these two weeks.

Sean getting help repainting the chimney on the last day the roof was accessible through the attic

Band Camp

The reason I was helping in the attic last week instead of having Alison do the hot climing-in-the-attic tasks was that she has been at band camp all day. Davis marching band is pretty intense, actually. The whole marching band, including incoming 9th graders started learning their music in June, before the end of 8th grade for Alison. They attended a two day camp the first Friday and Saturday in June, with a short performance on Saturday afternoon. Then any students who were in town had practice 5-9 on Tuesdays all summer. 

I have no band pictures, but here's a cat parked in the Employee of the Year spot at the vacant hospital near us


Starting last Monday they have had band camp scheduled 9-8 Monday-Friday for two weeks. I say "scheduled" because I don't think they've ever ended on time, including on Tuesdays during the summer. They seem to stop playing about 8, but then the director talks to them for a few minutes. Alison is in "front ensemble" meaning the folks on the instruments that don't get carried around the field. She plays marimba, others in front ensemble play xlylophone, synth, bells, and vibraphone. There is also a rack with drums and cymbals. 

Darter is enjoying the sunbeam

While I feel sympathy for the sousaphone players, who have to march and sometimes run around the field with heavy instruments, when they are done, they carry the sousaphone off the field and go home. Most of the other instruments just walk across the grass, carrying their instruments to their cases, vehicles, bikes, whatever, and leave. When front ensemble finishes, they have to push not only their instruments, but also the speakers and generators and carry their stands along a circuitous path (avoiding stairs, most curb cuts, and other impediments) through grass, gravel, sidewalk, over the trolley tracks (twice) and back to the band room. 

Buddy needs the reassurance of a lap while the scary roofers are here

The other day, when they finished practicing, Alison reported that the director asked other kids to help front ensemble take their stuff back or, he said, front ensemble would be there an extra hour. They must get a bit of help, because Alison usually gets home a little after 8:30 (the band room entrance is nearly two blocks from our back door), but if you know taking the instruments back takes 30 minutes to an hour, why don't you send front ensemble back early?

Darter on studio monitor duty

Apparently the Davis marching band is pretty good. I should hope so given how much time is devoted to their practice! The two weeks of band camp isn't even it for the summer. They have a performance for the parents this coming Saturday. They were supposed to arrive at 8 on the first day, and percussion and color guard had two extra days of practice the Thursday and Friday before, from 9-4. When school finally starts, Alison is going to be relieved to have such a short day (except, of course, for marching band practice Tuesday and Thursday evenings, after cross country)!

Buddy, melting upstairs

Because I really do think that marching band is cool, Sean and I also volunteered to help with the camp and other band stuff. I started at 7:30 last Monday taking registration fees and forms. Then I helped size and check out uniforms a couple of days during the week. Tonight I helped to serve dinner (though there were enough people that I was really not an essential part of the team. I did, however, scoop some lettuce and, later, cover some vegetables in plastic wrap. 

Buddy stretching upstairs

Sean spent a bunch of time this summer building a cart to carry the generators for front ensemble. Since the generators each weight 70-80 lbs, and the cart has to carry them at least the ~3 blocks to the practice field (the baseball outfield across from Lyons pool) and over gravel and grass and trolley tracks, we tested the cart out by taking turns being pulled in it around the block last night. Tonight front ensemble will be testing it out. 

the generator cart with sound dampening panels


All the registration and uniform check out and dinner prep and equipment development and associated fundraising is done by Davis Band Boosters. The booster club, along with so many things, had a kind of hiatus during COVID, so the folks running it now are relatively new and not always building on years of continuous experience. From the perspective of being involved, it would also appear that the kinds of communication problems that are familiar to parents in the Yakima School District also impact the band director to parent/booster communication chain. 

first and second layers of underglaze on some abstract bulbs 


Last week, for example, we finished checking out uniforms to a batch of students. It was 11:45 and students have a one hour on their own lunch break at 12. I suggested we stop at 11:45 because we couldn't get another group sized and checked out in less than 15 minutes. Instead, the director sent a fairly sizable group of students, who weren't able to be sized and checked out in 15 minutes, and we ended up keeping them at least 15 minutes past their lunch break. It may not seem like a big deal, but losing 15 minutes (plus walking back to the school, since the uniforms aren't stored at the school) of your break in the middle of a long long day, seems unreasonable to me (as does keeping the front ensemble late because they haven't factored in travel time).


Studio Time

Despite the wiring assistance and the band boostering and the daily trips to radiation and the weekly PT and OT and the fatigue (boy, when I say it that way it looks like a lot), I did get some time in the studio this week.

a textured bulb with a dent

All summer I've spend less time in the studio than in a typical summer, even without any trips. Somehow you'd think that without teaching and without traveling, I'd have had way more time in the studio all year, but apparently chemo and surgery and recovery and radiation aren't quite the same as, say, a sabbatical.

an abstract textured bulb

In January (winter quarter) I was basically sick every other week from chemo. Once the "red devil" AC chemo ended, I struggled a bit with neuropathy, but was doing much better with side effects by the end of April when chemo ended. By that time I was spending some regular time in the studio and also exercising regularly. I had two differed surgery dates in May and June (plus trips to Seattle for consults and tests). 

a textured bulb with a new boba tea lid texture

By early summer I was recovering from the second surgery and had restrictions imposed by the surgeons (the breast surgeon and the plastic surgeon) and later by my lymphedema OT (occupational therapist) and PT (physical therapist). Besides the restrictions they told me about, I found that I had less energy to spend in the studio and got tired or sore more quickly than a year ago.

a newish shell sprig

The advice that is given generally is to keep up your activity during radiation so that you don't get so fatigued. This advice sounded easy to follow in April and May, but by the time radiation actually started, I'd reduced my activity and range of motion for so long that my PT now doesn't want me doing more than a 10 minute run every other day! Both she and the lymphedema OT are concerned about swelling in my arm and chest/side. 

the same shell sprig bulb after excessive time with a ball stylus

I am at risk of lymphedema because of how many lymph nodes were removed in the second surgery. The concern is that if the swelling (lymphedema) doesn't go down, it can lead to permanent lympedema swelling. The probable factors causing the current swelling are heat, exercise, and radiation. Guess which of these we can control?

more texture

So, am I fatigued from the radiation, the heat, or the reduced exercise (compared to what I was doing in April/May or October)? Or all three? The only one I can control is the exercise, so I am doing less of that, on the doctors' orders. This also tends to mean that I spend less time in the studio, partly in an effort to take it easy and not "overdo it". Part of me wonders if "taking it easy" is an excuse for procrastination or laziness. On the other hand, I have been through kind of a lot this year.

I can't stop adding texture


I am (still) trying to get stuff finished, glazed, and fired before the Labor Day weekend Yakima Artist's Studio Tour at my house. I've got a batch of pieces mostly glazed, yet somehow I kept finding myself making more bulbs (because making is more fun than glazing) or writing an epic blog post, instead of finishing glazing. I really do need to finish glazing this week so I can fire after the roofers leave, so I can glaze the functional pieces and fire them by the end of next week, so that I can clean my studio before the tour on the third. 

a newish dried water lily sprig and ball stylus texture

I had originally planned to glaze and fired earlier so that I left myself lots of time to clean. I wanted to be able to spread out the cleaning if I wasn't feeling well by the end of August. Instead, I'm just dragging it out and taking my time with the glazing. I don't know if I can blame fatigue or if fatigue causes procrastination or if I am just out of the regular rhythms of the studio. Somehow it has taken me 4 or 5 days to add a second coat of glaze to a batch of bulbs I started glazing last week, but once I get myself moving, it shouldn't take that long to finish. And finding the time and energy to clean is future Rachel's problem.


the first layer of glaze on some bulbs

Hopefully, then, the next time I write a blog post here, I'll have a finished roof, a finished batch of bulbs, some finished sculpture, and some mugs and plates in the kiln. If I'm really on top of it, another post with those images will be written and published before the Tour!