a little down time after a busy two weeks detoxing in the Isle of Wight and sculpting heads in Devon- driving hundreds of miles, through muddy lakes, in the dark and rain, in a car that should know better than to have an ex Audi driving, car thrashing owner at its' wheel. We all survived my adrenalin burst and it was as healing, spiritually, as it was manic. The other healing or stabilising or growing out of control bit of my life, I wont know until the next scan December 2nd and results on 9th. Two more weeks with that old fellow called scanxiety..
its not all green juicing and yoga though and at times it all feels a bit trite to espouse alternative medicines and warrior mantras- we do it to keep ourselves buoyant, but it doesn't always work. The reason there is no cure to this bastard cancer is because it is supposedly rare. Despite charities such as the wonderful sarcomaUK who have put tones of energy into research grants there is still little knowledge of why it happens and how to put a stop to it. People I've known in the sarcoma community have died, continue to die, and it pisses me right off. A friend with sarcoma who I photographed is going through a really tough time and I've been too angry to talk about my own blah, so instead of swearing all over social media I choose the cardiacs..