I'll be out of commission today, going under the knife for a major, somewhat urgent and quite unexpected surgery procedure with a substantial recovery period. Surgery starts at 0730; as I type this the main worry in my mind is getting from my house to the hospital (arrival time 0530) with all the ice still all over my neighborhood's twisty and windy streets.
Not looking forward to the next 2-3 weeks. But like Clint Eastwood once famously said: "Hog's breath is better than no breath at all..."
There are lots of things that I am afraid of, but weirdly enough, death is not one of them. I think that the fact that if I were to croak today I'd still be leaving behind around ten thousand pieces of artwork which have been sold, traded, given away, left in hotel rooms, inserted into Goodwill stores and/or otherwise left to leave an artistic footprint, is rather a calming feeling.
This is a major, multi-hour, robot-not-a-human-in-charge operation, which I am told has an 80% success rate where the John Doe doesn't bite the bucket (and frankly, I picked the robot over the human, because of something called "tremors" when it comes to a surgical scalpel), soooooooooo.... If I do bite the bucket, I'd like a tombstone that looks like a Pictish Stone, sort of like this one that I did in Scotland in 1989:
Not looking forward to the next 2-3 weeks. But like Clint Eastwood once famously said: "Hog's breath is better than no breath at all..."
There are lots of things that I am afraid of, but weirdly enough, death is not one of them. I think that the fact that if I were to croak today I'd still be leaving behind around ten thousand pieces of artwork which have been sold, traded, given away, left in hotel rooms, inserted into Goodwill stores and/or otherwise left to leave an artistic footprint, is rather a calming feeling.
This is a major, multi-hour, robot-not-a-human-in-charge operation, which I am told has an 80% success rate where the John Doe doesn't bite the bucket (and frankly, I picked the robot over the human, because of something called "tremors" when it comes to a surgical scalpel), soooooooooo.... If I do bite the bucket, I'd like a tombstone that looks like a Pictish Stone, sort of like this one that I did in Scotland in 1989:
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| Clach Biorach Pictish Standing Stone Edderton, Ross, Scotland circa 1989 by F. Lennox Campello Pen and Ink wash on paper, 9.5 x 6.5 inches |
Understand your angst and appreciate your outlook. Just got faced with a somewhat similar surgery scenario (it involves cracking the chest). The worst part is worrying the ones that matter in your life. There is nothing they can do but look on & paste on a brave face to show support.
ReplyDeleteAnd if the worst outcome comes to fruition spread my ashes where my favorite dog, Zebbie, ashes are. That way we can play together again sooner.
Wishing you a successful operation with no complications and doctors who are amazed at your quick recovery.
I hope you come through it and return to good health. Although I disagree with a lot of the stuff you post, you are one of very few voices for art in the region. Your loss would be devastating.
ReplyDeleteThank you for your nice note... Survived the operation! But still in hospital with some complications... Thanks again for the nice wishes...
ReplyDeleteLooking forward to hearing that you successfully left Suburban Hospital and are resting at home enjoying shots of vodka (or your favorite adult beverage) in a bacon & dark chocolate wrapped bacon glass surrounded by your loved ones. http://vinepair.com/buzzed/bacon-shot-glasses-are-real-and-they-are-glorious/
ReplyDeleteCarl