Bursting the bubbles
It’s nine in the evening. I ache from fatigue but it has been a good day. I’ve been the subject of a photofilm that Duckrabbit are creating. I’m fairly peripheral, being a case study that highlights how much better things might be should the development of a specific targeted chemotherapy delivery method be successful. I think they selected me from others primarily because I photograph dance.
Despite the fact that I’ve regained what, before the cancer, was my regular early-morning sense of excited anticipation, I’ve recently found myself on a hiatus, unable to make progress in creative and administrative aspects of my life. Now today is over I realise it came about because I’ve been confronting some of the demons associated with my cancer in anticipation of this duckrabbit day. Not, as I had thought, as a result of the infection I’ve been fighting or of any external event at all. A bubble-chain of chemo and post-chemo memories have been examined, dealt with properly, put on display and then burst under the pink-gold light of today’s early evening sun.
Four years and the biggies have been sorted. The decks are clear.
Time to reflect on what happens next.