I love the art! Your work is progressing so beautifully, my friend. It is so moving.
Reading about your "waiting, waiting, waiting" for insurance approval for a double mastectomy really resonated with me. I've had my own battles with insurance companies, though thankfully not for something as life-preserving, and that feeling of fighting a faceless bureaucracy while you're already at your most vulnerable is uniquely frustrating. It's like adding insult to injury, having to advocate tirelessly for care that should be a given.
Beth, I love the water lilies in watercolor. I think you are doing well in this medium, too! I look forward to seeing more of your work in watercolor.
I’m sorry you were treated like that by the health “care” system. There was nothing about that interaction you described with your doctor, or the waiting that followed, that is about health or caring. You know I can go off on my soapbox about this. It drove me crazy when the patient had to wait to get pathology or other lab results and they were left in limbo while few people on their care team seemed to care. The bigger these corporate “health”systems get, the worse impact on the care received by patients. Understaffing to save a buck results in higher bonuses for CEOs and worse care for patients.
Sending hugs and hoping you won’t have any more such impactful scares. I know it’s impossible not to worry when something weird is up, but I hope the medical establishment will grow some social skills…
Thank you for your kind comment. I've made an informal commitment to do at least an oil and a watercolor per week. I have low confidence about my watercolor abilities; it's so much less familiar to me than oils. I'm very much a beginner. I appreciate how you are enjoying the watercolor water lilies. Thank you.
Regarding the medical crap, this experience would never have been pleasant, but it would've helped to have a doctor who wasn't so impatient. Yes, you understand, having been in medical care, how screwed up the medical system is. Hanging in limbo for a long time, waiting for pathology/lab results is unethical. Plain and simple. The healthcare system is broken, thanks to all these greedy CEOs at insurance companies.
I was lucky that I had a few stellar doctors who helped me through the mess that is cancer. They helped advocate for me when I needed the bilateral mastectomy and reconstructiion. Even with their help, it took a year to get the surgery approved, as I mentioned.
Thanks for all your support, as usual, and enjoy those wildflowers. The photos are breathtaking.
Beth, I love the watercolors that have sprung out of all these years of refining your craft. While you were patiently creating your art and developing your self care routine, everything improved. And that can part of the "benefit" of waiting--if there even is such a thing to such an excruciating process. I kept thinking about your dilemma with waiting and waiting and how during that time, we are really looking for a compassionate soul in the medical industry to turn to us and say, "it's gonna be okay, we're gonna find a way for you to get through this no matter what, we're by your side"--but it's just a "procedure" and a "process" for most of these doctors, nurses and caregivers. You were lucky to find a few gems along the way that encouraged you and offered kind of humane and loving support "beyond medicine" to get through this. The system is a labyrinth and without guidance, so many get lost. Also reading this I kept thinking that you must have found a way to be self-reliant and go beyond your hospital treatment and find the courage and perseverance within to make it beyond the diagnosis and the endless testing and waiting. That's how brave you are Beth and it's so contagious that you're sharing your story here with us. Thank you for your offering us this beacon of light!
Thank you for your kind words about my watercolors. I've learned to accept progress, not perfection. And I've gotten quite chill about paintings should they not work out. Yes, I have definitely put the time into the craft, and creating art is, and always has been, a joy.
Regarding the medical situation, you say it so well: "The system is a labyrinth and without guidance, so many get lost." Spot-on. It is a confusing, horrible system -- and if we don't advocate for ourselves, no one will. I've been so lucky to have doctors who cared for me as if I were their family member. But I also encountered many callous, heartless individuals on an ego trip. Any misstep in the precarious healthcare system could have turned out badly for me, so I had to be persistent, as my life was on the line.
I never thought I was courageous going through all this hell. Most of the time I was so scared, but I did fight because my life was hanging in the balance, and some heartless doctors cared more about their egos than my health. I did get pretty good at firing/walking away from mean and/or incompetent doctors.
I have colon cancer, and this post deeply impacted me. This line struck me, because it is something we share: "Lucky to have survived thus far, I now am grateful for a creative life." I also share your frustration/anger with portions of the medical establishment and think it's good you are telling people about your experiences. I think your writing is an important act of advocacy, both for yourself and other people.
I am so sorry you have colon cancer. As you unfortunately know, a cancer diagnosis is heart-breaking and frightening. Being a patient is not ideal, not only because of one's medical crisis, but because of doctor problems. I have had a number of dismissive physicians, so I wound up dismissing them ultimately.
Yes, I believe that writing is a form of self-advocacy. I write to bear witness to the suffering, to possibly effect change, and so that I always remember the kindness and unkindness of medical professionals.
Good grief -- that time of your life must have been horrendous for you. I think I would be screaming at the top of my lungs if I had to go through all of that. Although, I realize you had no choice. Such courage you showed and to be able to channel that dramatic time of your life into creating art is extraordinary. The subject of waiting is something I have difficulty in -- I have little patience and it tends to manifest itself rather quickly unfortunately. It sounds like you handled it quite well.
I have difficulty with patience, too, believe it or not.
That dark, very long chapter of my life was horrifying. Honestly, I was too scared to scream, but I did assert myself when I could. Thank you for saying I showed courage. Truth be told, I'm a chicken. LOL I was beyond terrified.
Over time, when dealing with callous, uncaring physicians, I got sick and tired of being mistreated. So I eventually became difficult and made medical professionals somewhat uncomfortable. That became their problem.
Waiting -- that liminality where you don't know what's in front of you or where the threshold is. It can be agonizing. From your Substack, I've pieced together the scenes in your life into the bigger story, and it touches my heart-- because of your courage. Because of your determination. Because you honor the creative and let that be the light that leads you. Yours is a story that inspires and honors what it means to be brave. And bravery isn't fearless; it looks exactly like fear but you move through it anyway. That's what's so amazing about you and your art -- you've made a path that any of us facing liminality can benefit from. With deep admiration and goodwill, Beth, you are in my heart.
Your words are so calming and inspiring. And "liminality" is the perfect word to describe the waiting we experience.
You bring up an excellent point that "bravery isn't fearless"; this is so true. During such waiting periods, fear can dominate our thoughts, thanks to our imagination. The key, as you know, is to go through the forward motions anyway, one step at a time.
As a fellow creative, you have also made a path with your writing. Your work inspires me all the time, and I am thankful to follow your path, as well.
Beth, what a lovely piece of writing. I really like how you did your transitions and used the waiting as a way to connect the scenes.
I agree the waiting is the hardest part - and in Canada it was excruciating because of the backup in the lab post Covid, getting my biopsy results took forever. I appreciate the challenge that waiting brings as I watch my friends wait and wait ... I think it is the not knowing that is the worst, especially on those of us who are planners and want to know what we are planning for.
Thank you so much, Rebecca. Your comment on my writing means a lot to me, especially coming from a talented writer like you.
Getting medical work post-Covid had to be simply awful. Like you, the not knowing really has been the worst for me. And when people are waiting, they are in a holding pattern of not knowing, which can really be horrid.
Hoping you stay healthy -- physically and emotionally -- and that all your dreams come true.
Beth, thank you so much for letting us walk beside you through the ache and terror of waiting, the sharp edges of uncertainty and the quiet triumph of creativity. Your story doesn’t just speak, it resonates. My mother had breast cancer too, so I'm holding your words with deep reverence.
I had my own cancer scare last year - two tumours in my thyroid, thankfully benign. For now, the NHS is taking a wait-and-see approach and of course, I’m praying that things stay that way.
In answer to your last question, something else surfaced beyond health: my digital pilgrimage. As you know, I’ve written about searching online for kindred spirits, and here, in this garden of light, I found them. The wait was worth it. I've met some truly kind, compassionate souls, like yourself.
Your comment really moved me. I am so sorry that your mom had to endure breast cancer. And I'm sorry about your cancer scare. I am so grateful that your tumors were benign, and I hope and pray you stay healthy.
I am so grateful our paths have crossed. Substack has really been a great vehicle for finding and connecting with kindred spirits, such as yourself. I have learned so much through this platform, and I am lucky to have found you and your wonderful Substack here.
I had a torturous wait of several months to get all the testing done and wait for the results to find out if I had Parkinson’s disease or not. So many worst case scenarios danced in my head. I friend tried to tell me it’ll be ok, but all I could do was cry and say it won’t.
Thankfully, the tests all came back negative and we found that my tremors were caused by a medication I was taking. I was told that once I stopped taking it it very well could be 6 months to a year or more for the tremor to go away, or it could be permanent. It was such a relief to know that even if the tremor didn’t go away, it wasn’t degenerative and it wouldn’t completely steal my life.
I’m still waiting for it to go away completely, but I have noticed a marked improvement. I’ll take it!
Thank you for your comment and for sharing your story.
Waiting months to see if you had Parkinson's does sound like torture indeed. It sounds excruciating. Yes, the scenarios that fill our minds. The more time we have to wait, in the medical world, the more our minds play tricks on us.
I am so very glad your tremors were not due to Parkinson's and due instead to a side effect of your medication. I am also glad they subsided a bit.
Hang in there. I am wishing you good health and ease of mind.
I love the art! Your work is progressing so beautifully, my friend. It is so moving.
Reading about your "waiting, waiting, waiting" for insurance approval for a double mastectomy really resonated with me. I've had my own battles with insurance companies, though thankfully not for something as life-preserving, and that feeling of fighting a faceless bureaucracy while you're already at your most vulnerable is uniquely frustrating. It's like adding insult to injury, having to advocate tirelessly for care that should be a given.
Beth, I love the water lilies in watercolor. I think you are doing well in this medium, too! I look forward to seeing more of your work in watercolor.
I’m sorry you were treated like that by the health “care” system. There was nothing about that interaction you described with your doctor, or the waiting that followed, that is about health or caring. You know I can go off on my soapbox about this. It drove me crazy when the patient had to wait to get pathology or other lab results and they were left in limbo while few people on their care team seemed to care. The bigger these corporate “health”systems get, the worse impact on the care received by patients. Understaffing to save a buck results in higher bonuses for CEOs and worse care for patients.
Sending hugs and hoping you won’t have any more such impactful scares. I know it’s impossible not to worry when something weird is up, but I hope the medical establishment will grow some social skills…
Hi Alene,
Thank you for your kind comment. I've made an informal commitment to do at least an oil and a watercolor per week. I have low confidence about my watercolor abilities; it's so much less familiar to me than oils. I'm very much a beginner. I appreciate how you are enjoying the watercolor water lilies. Thank you.
Regarding the medical crap, this experience would never have been pleasant, but it would've helped to have a doctor who wasn't so impatient. Yes, you understand, having been in medical care, how screwed up the medical system is. Hanging in limbo for a long time, waiting for pathology/lab results is unethical. Plain and simple. The healthcare system is broken, thanks to all these greedy CEOs at insurance companies.
I was lucky that I had a few stellar doctors who helped me through the mess that is cancer. They helped advocate for me when I needed the bilateral mastectomy and reconstructiion. Even with their help, it took a year to get the surgery approved, as I mentioned.
Thanks for all your support, as usual, and enjoy those wildflowers. The photos are breathtaking.
Beth, I love the watercolors that have sprung out of all these years of refining your craft. While you were patiently creating your art and developing your self care routine, everything improved. And that can part of the "benefit" of waiting--if there even is such a thing to such an excruciating process. I kept thinking about your dilemma with waiting and waiting and how during that time, we are really looking for a compassionate soul in the medical industry to turn to us and say, "it's gonna be okay, we're gonna find a way for you to get through this no matter what, we're by your side"--but it's just a "procedure" and a "process" for most of these doctors, nurses and caregivers. You were lucky to find a few gems along the way that encouraged you and offered kind of humane and loving support "beyond medicine" to get through this. The system is a labyrinth and without guidance, so many get lost. Also reading this I kept thinking that you must have found a way to be self-reliant and go beyond your hospital treatment and find the courage and perseverance within to make it beyond the diagnosis and the endless testing and waiting. That's how brave you are Beth and it's so contagious that you're sharing your story here with us. Thank you for your offering us this beacon of light!
Hi Gerry,
Thank you for your kind words about my watercolors. I've learned to accept progress, not perfection. And I've gotten quite chill about paintings should they not work out. Yes, I have definitely put the time into the craft, and creating art is, and always has been, a joy.
Regarding the medical situation, you say it so well: "The system is a labyrinth and without guidance, so many get lost." Spot-on. It is a confusing, horrible system -- and if we don't advocate for ourselves, no one will. I've been so lucky to have doctors who cared for me as if I were their family member. But I also encountered many callous, heartless individuals on an ego trip. Any misstep in the precarious healthcare system could have turned out badly for me, so I had to be persistent, as my life was on the line.
I never thought I was courageous going through all this hell. Most of the time I was so scared, but I did fight because my life was hanging in the balance, and some heartless doctors cared more about their egos than my health. I did get pretty good at firing/walking away from mean and/or incompetent doctors.
We do what we need to survive, right?
I so appreciate you and your comment. Thank you!
I have colon cancer, and this post deeply impacted me. This line struck me, because it is something we share: "Lucky to have survived thus far, I now am grateful for a creative life." I also share your frustration/anger with portions of the medical establishment and think it's good you are telling people about your experiences. I think your writing is an important act of advocacy, both for yourself and other people.
Hi Christina,
I am so sorry you have colon cancer. As you unfortunately know, a cancer diagnosis is heart-breaking and frightening. Being a patient is not ideal, not only because of one's medical crisis, but because of doctor problems. I have had a number of dismissive physicians, so I wound up dismissing them ultimately.
Yes, I believe that writing is a form of self-advocacy. I write to bear witness to the suffering, to possibly effect change, and so that I always remember the kindness and unkindness of medical professionals.
Thank you for your comment.
Good grief -- that time of your life must have been horrendous for you. I think I would be screaming at the top of my lungs if I had to go through all of that. Although, I realize you had no choice. Such courage you showed and to be able to channel that dramatic time of your life into creating art is extraordinary. The subject of waiting is something I have difficulty in -- I have little patience and it tends to manifest itself rather quickly unfortunately. It sounds like you handled it quite well.
Hi Nancy,
I have difficulty with patience, too, believe it or not.
That dark, very long chapter of my life was horrifying. Honestly, I was too scared to scream, but I did assert myself when I could. Thank you for saying I showed courage. Truth be told, I'm a chicken. LOL I was beyond terrified.
Over time, when dealing with callous, uncaring physicians, I got sick and tired of being mistreated. So I eventually became difficult and made medical professionals somewhat uncomfortable. That became their problem.
Waiting -- that liminality where you don't know what's in front of you or where the threshold is. It can be agonizing. From your Substack, I've pieced together the scenes in your life into the bigger story, and it touches my heart-- because of your courage. Because of your determination. Because you honor the creative and let that be the light that leads you. Yours is a story that inspires and honors what it means to be brave. And bravery isn't fearless; it looks exactly like fear but you move through it anyway. That's what's so amazing about you and your art -- you've made a path that any of us facing liminality can benefit from. With deep admiration and goodwill, Beth, you are in my heart.
Hi Stephanie,
Your words are so calming and inspiring. And "liminality" is the perfect word to describe the waiting we experience.
You bring up an excellent point that "bravery isn't fearless"; this is so true. During such waiting periods, fear can dominate our thoughts, thanks to our imagination. The key, as you know, is to go through the forward motions anyway, one step at a time.
As a fellow creative, you have also made a path with your writing. Your work inspires me all the time, and I am thankful to follow your path, as well.
Sending hugs and love.
Beth, what a lovely piece of writing. I really like how you did your transitions and used the waiting as a way to connect the scenes.
I agree the waiting is the hardest part - and in Canada it was excruciating because of the backup in the lab post Covid, getting my biopsy results took forever. I appreciate the challenge that waiting brings as I watch my friends wait and wait ... I think it is the not knowing that is the worst, especially on those of us who are planners and want to know what we are planning for.
Thank you so much, Rebecca. Your comment on my writing means a lot to me, especially coming from a talented writer like you.
Getting medical work post-Covid had to be simply awful. Like you, the not knowing really has been the worst for me. And when people are waiting, they are in a holding pattern of not knowing, which can really be horrid.
Hoping you stay healthy -- physically and emotionally -- and that all your dreams come true.
Beth, thank you so much for letting us walk beside you through the ache and terror of waiting, the sharp edges of uncertainty and the quiet triumph of creativity. Your story doesn’t just speak, it resonates. My mother had breast cancer too, so I'm holding your words with deep reverence.
I had my own cancer scare last year - two tumours in my thyroid, thankfully benign. For now, the NHS is taking a wait-and-see approach and of course, I’m praying that things stay that way.
In answer to your last question, something else surfaced beyond health: my digital pilgrimage. As you know, I’ve written about searching online for kindred spirits, and here, in this garden of light, I found them. The wait was worth it. I've met some truly kind, compassionate souls, like yourself.
Hi Deborah,
Your comment really moved me. I am so sorry that your mom had to endure breast cancer. And I'm sorry about your cancer scare. I am so grateful that your tumors were benign, and I hope and pray you stay healthy.
I am so grateful our paths have crossed. Substack has really been a great vehicle for finding and connecting with kindred spirits, such as yourself. I have learned so much through this platform, and I am lucky to have found you and your wonderful Substack here.
I had a torturous wait of several months to get all the testing done and wait for the results to find out if I had Parkinson’s disease or not. So many worst case scenarios danced in my head. I friend tried to tell me it’ll be ok, but all I could do was cry and say it won’t.
Thankfully, the tests all came back negative and we found that my tremors were caused by a medication I was taking. I was told that once I stopped taking it it very well could be 6 months to a year or more for the tremor to go away, or it could be permanent. It was such a relief to know that even if the tremor didn’t go away, it wasn’t degenerative and it wouldn’t completely steal my life.
I’m still waiting for it to go away completely, but I have noticed a marked improvement. I’ll take it!
Hi Jenna,
Thank you for your comment and for sharing your story.
Waiting months to see if you had Parkinson's does sound like torture indeed. It sounds excruciating. Yes, the scenarios that fill our minds. The more time we have to wait, in the medical world, the more our minds play tricks on us.
I am so very glad your tremors were not due to Parkinson's and due instead to a side effect of your medication. I am also glad they subsided a bit.
Hang in there. I am wishing you good health and ease of mind.