Healing Stories

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John's Story

I am a sculptor, living with cancer. Note that I do not say "I am a cancer patient". I am living, and I just happen to have some cancer. I have found that when I am doing art, I do not have cancer. I have also presented workshops in drawing and clay sculpting at the Cancer Community Center in South Portland, Maine, and have found the participants agreeing with the idea that art does not leave room for cancer.

Shortly after I was diagnosed with cancer, I went to my studio and started carving a large block of alabaster that I had on hand. I really did not have a definite image in mind, but after a while, I found a figure (somewhat stylized) emerging. This figure was bent over in a crouch, as if suffering. I called this piece "Why Me?" (shown to the right). The interesting thing is that as soon as I finished this, I stopped asking myself that question!

I have recently completed a sculpture called "In Touch", since doing art is a way to get in touch with feelings, and because I feel that touch is also healing.  This work may be seen on my web site (see below).

I invite you to see some more of my sculpture by visiting my art web site.

 

 

In addition to sculpting I have had a love affair with photography off and on since the 1950’s.  Lack of a conventional darkroom had kept me away from it for many years.  My affair became “on” about one year ago, with the advent of improved “digital darkroom” equipment.  I view the purchase of this equipment as part of the cost of my cancer treatment, just as valid as the medical therapy (but not covered by insurance). 

Art and creativity are healing.  Beauty is a path to my spirit.  I have past the five year point of living with cancer now.  My art has helped in keeping me alive, as the odds of surviving this long were only 20%.  (Other factors are the wonderful support of the Cancer Community Center in South Portland, ME, a change in my eating habits, supplements, and very importantly a loving wife.)

This photograph was taken in Bayeux, France, with bright sunshine coming through a stained glass window onto the column. 

 

                    --John Shonle

 

Will’s story, as relayed by Jack Fink

I recall a retiree, maybe twenty years ago, who was a pressman for the New York Times who had been urged to take a pottery course with me by a mutual friend. He was under treatment for liver cancer at the time. He was taking some form of treatment (radiation perhaps) and by yearend was in remission and remains so today. Will was convinced that what happened to him as a result of the creative activity associated with pottery is what "saved" him - that this combination of the standard medical treatment and his immersion into the pottery process was what restored his health. When he sat down at the potter’s wheel, everything was turned off; he was in the moment; he was at peace. When he spoke of his love for the work of making pottery, he totally 'lit up.'

Interestingly, Will continued with pottery at my college until he and his wife moved from Long Island to California and specifically chose a retirement village that had a pottery center. Apparently he spends many hours there in the pot shop and is making some very large and wonderful pieces of ceramic art and has made a new, cancer free life for himself in the process.

 

Marni’s Story

I hate needles. They make me faint or throw up. They hurt. When they have trouble finding my veins and must poke me many times, it gets old really fast. So the prospect of having to take poison (chemotherapy) through a needle which would be attached to me for up to five hours was terrifying. Fortunately I had a mediport implanted which they sprayed with a kind of coolant spray so it just felt like an insect bite when they poked the needle in. However, I still could not look at the needle until my seventh treatment. Seven is my favorite number. I understand it also has a spiritual significance. After my seventh treatment I asked to see the needle. I was surprised at how small it was. It even looked a little like an insect. So I drew seven views of it and then realized that with eight treatments, I should have eight views. As I finished the last view at my Wednesday morning painting group, one of my artist colleagues suggested I call the piece "Eight Is Enough."

I am a professional watercolor artist. The pieces that I enjoy painting the most are those I have come to refer to as "statement paintings." That is, commentary on the environment, on people in crisis, on humor, or peak experiences. I later made this drawing into a full-sized watercolor painting entitled "Is Eight Enough?". The chemo needle showed up again in a piece to accompany a paper I wrote, entitled "Diagonally Parked in a Parallel Universe or Benefits of Getting Cancer." These paintings displayed on my rack at sidewalk art shows often result in most of my day being spent in counseling other cancer patients. When I share someone else’s burden, it lightens my own thereby contributing to my own healing and oneness with the universe.

              --Marni Lawson

 

Tommy's Story

The explosion was a result of a gas leak ignited electrically in my garage apartment near U of H where I was attending school.  It was at night, and I assume I was asleep. I have little recollection of the accident nor of my hospital stay.

Most of my burns were to my arms, neck, back and face, with the worst of the damage to both arms.  Upon arriving to the ER, my right arm was almost removed because of the severity of the burns to the entire arm.  Days later, I had skin grafted from both legs to my entire right arm and fingers. My left arm and fingers were left to heal openly through constant scrubbing and cleaning. I was unable to feed my self for about a month and a half; shower or use the restroom by myself for over two months. I had a home nurse come in to scrub and recover my burns daily for these two months, during which time I put in 2 -3 hours of physical therapy a day at the hospital, along with at least 5 additional hours at home.

My grafts took well, but muscle and even veins had been severely damaged in the explosion, thus making therapy a grueling torturous constant event. After about 3 months my left arm and hand had definite improvement; however, from the wrist down on my right hand I had little movement at all. Surgeons warned that if there was not immediate progress in the movement of the wrist, fingers, and knuckles that permanent loss was inevitable. This is when I was ordered to find a hobby which I could spend all day doing.

I started carving, barely able to hold any tool, and this is where my life changed for ever. I was not aware I could physically be artistic--I couldn't draw, or paint--I was a Biology Major anticipating entry into optometry school. Soon after creating my first couple of carvings, I found myself completely obsessed and, more importantly, happy. Being unable to care for yourself, on top of losing all your possessions, compounded by constant pain made for a very sad boy. The rush of creating and the concept of endless possibilities motivated me beyond words.

Needless to say I made a tremendous recovery, and found true happiness in the same stride. I was driving after 6 months and had full strength and movement after about a year.

However even today, after 3 and a half years, I still stretch out both hands and fingers regularly, other wise they tighten and will eventually try to web. My right hand has moderate webbing, not too noticeable, but restricting nevertheless. Proper maintenance therapy will be forever, but is a small price to pay. I currently work as a chemist at the ALCOA plant in Rockdale, but hope to someday devote all my time to my passion.

You may see more of my work and a biography at http://tommyn.com/.

                               --Tommy Nienaber

 

John F.'s Story

There is a beautiful story about how gardening was the creative force that healed a man named John Florio.  This story may be found in its entirety in Bernie Siegel's wonderful book, Peace, Love & Healing (Harper Perennial, 1998) on pages 9 and 10.  Dr. Siegel also has a wonderful story on page 183 of the same book about how a man was healed by playing his violin.  Both of these stories are so inspiring that I wanted to bring them to your attention.

 

Jacquie’s Story

Breast Cancer and Bracelets

Every woman in the vast sisterhood of breast cancer survivors has stories that show her unique ways of coping. This story is told from my point of view as a craftsperson/artist. The creative process has always been therapeutic for me, relieving stress, releasing anger, consoling grief, expressing joy, playing with wonder and uncertainty, making tangible the spirit within.

In August of 2002 when I was diagnosed with breast cancer I had just learned the traditional Bulgarian craft of making bead crochet rope bracelets. Through the ensuing biopsies, tests, meetings with specialists, decision making, anxiety, surgeries and chemotherapy, I crocheted the bracelets compulsively! The supplies fit in a check box that went with me wherever I went, so I could work on a bracelet in every spare moment. After many weeks of obsessive beadwork it became clear to me that it was a most appropriate activity for a cancer patient! Cancer is, after all, a group of cells in chaos - unruly, irregular cells that are not following the body's accepted routines. The first step in making a bead crochet bracelet is to spill out seed beads in the colors needed for the design. The tiny beads are then strung up in a precise order according to the desired pattern. At this stage any beads with off-center holes or irregular sizes or shapes are culled out and discarded. Once a proper length of beads is strung they are crocheted together, one at a time, and the pattern emerges in the rope. The former chaos of multicolored beads in a tray begins to take shape in a very controlled manner. Finally, after crocheting the last bead of the string, the two ends of the bracelet are connected invisibly, creating a circle with a never-ending design going around it.

Over and over I've repeated this process. It has become a mantra for me, a wonderful metaphor for healing from cancer.


Each bracelet contains over 750 seed beads and about 9 yards of heavy duty synthetic thread. It is crocheted with a 1mm steel hook. I've made over 100 of these bracelets so far. The first ones tended to be in darker colors with matte finishes, but as my outlook on life improved my bracelets became more colorful, more lively, more textured, more flexible due to eased tension on the thread, and more original.

  Update, February 2005: Now it's well over 150 bracelets that I've crocheted and I've lost count. No more counting. I've kept some of them but most have been given away. Everyone who was instrumental in my treatment, care and support got one - doctors, nurses, chemo staff, folks who brought food and those who just listened, friends, family and neighbors. Now I give them to other cancer patients and to various organizations for fundraising. Making them is still a healing mantra for me, a way to focus, relax, and enter a peaceful meditative state. If you wear one of these bracelets, may it be a reminder that peace, order and beauty can be found in even the most distressing of circumstances.

                                --Jacquie Ferrency    

http://jacquie.ferrency.com/test/archives/2004/12/breast_cancer_a.html

 

Additional Stories

I would like to add other stories or discussion about how art and creativity have helped heal.  I am soliciting stories concerning any kind of illness, not just cancer, and any form of creativity.  You may email me (John) at jshonle@earthlink.net with your story (about 300 words), attaching a photograph if appropriate, and I will include it.  If you don't have a way of e-mailing a photo, you may send me one by surface mail, and I will scan it and return it.  Please include your name (or initials) if you wish me to use it, and permission to put your story on my web.  I will not include any submissions that I judge are not in the spirit of this web site.  I reserve the right to edit your story, but will show you how I have edited it before putting it on the web.  You may also suggest other interesting links.