Patois Garden, 10×10 oil on panel.
The big week is here. My Double Header. Tuesday I had blood drawn for the PSA test which would determine my future health course. So much was depending on this test result, in my mind, that I must confess it was the singular nervous moment of my cancer journey. Maybe I was still just subconsciously remembering the bad test of March. However, when I sat down in the chair and felt the tourniquet tighten around my bicep, as the needle entered my vein, a premonition came over me that everything was right. The number was going to be next to nothing.
Of course I couldn’t wait to find out. So by Wednesday afternoon, when I hadn’t heard anything, I rifled an email off to Dr. Abouassaly. How many doctors answer your email within an hour? Je suis très Dr. Abouassaly. But he had nothing to offer. In my germanic need for efficiency, I wanted that report in hand by Thursday when I saw him. Rattle-bang-boom, text and call mania, and by Thursday morning at 10:00 I had tracked it down and trekked back to Labcorp, leaving the lab with the results in hand. Seated in the car, the drum rolled in my mind as I opened the envelope. Trumpets fanfared as I saw >.1 on the value line. According to Dr. A, that puts me out of the need for further treatment! It was a upbeat checkup that afternoon. And an intimate celebration that night at Larry’s, our favorite hang out.
Now it’s Friday and almost time for lunch. Focus is on prepping for the studio sale tomorrow. I’ve run inventory, priced and framed the last two paintings. Know anyone looking for a large painting of french countryside? I have some yummy brushy ones to offer! All sizes really. Including the paintings done en plein air in France this past June. Whether you’re purse has padding for a painting or not, I hope you’ll bring a friend and stop by. Corks will pop and light snacks will be waiting. Help me celebrate a successful summer of travel, surgery and sun.
Make a comment below and I’ll give you a special discount in the event one calls your name!
THE WAY I read a letter’s this:
’T is first I lock the door,
And push it with my fingers next,
For transport it be sure.
And then I go the furthest off
To counteract a knock;
Then draw my little letter forth
And softly pick its lock.
Then, glancing narrow at the wall,
And narrow at the floor,
For firm conviction of a mouse
Not exorcised before,
Peruse how infinite I am
To—no one that you know!
And sigh for lack of heaven,—but not
The heaven the creeds bestow.