Illness Journey
Art as a Gift
I regard my art it as a gift that came to me from being very ill. For a dozen years I had very active lupus with a lot of cerebral involvement, including a mild stroke. Recovery was a process. First to return was my love of music, then my vocabulary. Prior to my illness I could copy well, but not create art. 
I was trying my hand at drawing as I was becoming ill with lupus. The toucans and spiders come directly from molas I’d collected, I sent my kids out to the backyard to find leaves to use as background. It’s not really very creative. Drawn in pen and colored with pencils, my hands hurt so much a friend had to finish the final third for me.
As I started getting better and realized I couldn’t work outside the home I turned to drawing again. My husband came home with a gigantic pack of colored sharpies and opened up art possibilities for me.
Diagnosis
I started my serious drawing efforts with four birds. When finished I realized I’d created a visual representation of my journey with lupus. The Owl is the diagnosis: I am alone in the dark with the news that I have a named disease. But the dark is not total; there is light in the moon. I remember being so relieved to have a diagnosis. I leaned into my doctor and cried. “I wasn’t crazy.”
Now what?
The Hummingbirds, hyper-busy and flitting about, symbolize the search for a treatment; discovering among all of the options, what works for me. In that busyness, I discovered I am not alone and started working with a rheumatologist. Due to moving or having insurance changes my rheumatologist necessarily changed also. Each gave me new perspectives, sometimes new treatments. One I left because he didn’t take care of himself, how could I trust him to take care of me well? Some considered me an early adaptor, some stubborn as hell, I am grateful to them all.
Learning Self Care
The Flamingo nurtures my new life. Fragile, tentative, and slowly growing, it is my new normal. I am not quite as physically fit as before, but I’ve learned a lot. There were a lot of ups and downs. I remember my arms and hands hurting so much I didn’t bother to scratch an itch on my nose. I had pericarditis with a liter and a half of fluid build-up and pleurisy, that hurts. I spent so much time on the couch I had contractures. One time my husband drove me to the local hospital while a friend watched our 3 kids. We said goodbye, fully expecting I was dying as I weighed 75 pounds and couldn’t control my bowels anymore. I got better and within a month was able to walk a mile .
Recovery, Resilience, Peace
The Rooster, crowing at dawn, represents my dramatically changed priorities. I savor life, enjoy the little things, and I am here for my family. And…I can draw!