Category: Chronic Pain

Sketchbook Pages: Uprooted

Posted on by F.Magdalene
uprooted sundrip

I feel uprooted. Everything is different. My home is great but I’ve not laid down roots here. Most of my possessions are new because the old got thrown out. The only photo of my father that I had was thrown away accidentally. It is gone forever and it hurts.

My dishes, terrariums, plants, shoes, bed, sheets, furniture, everything is different and new. My frogs are new, fish are new. No dog or cat anymore. Heck, my laptop and phone are even new. I realized I have few things that I am emotionally attached to because I’ve not had them long enough. It feels like everything has new roots, nothing is stable, consistent, long term, dependable. 

I’m new. I’ve changed physically and emotionally. My eyes haven’t stopped watering since the amputation. They water nearly non-stop. 

I feel like I’m complaining but all I’m trying to say is that laying down new roots at 47 is difficult.

Outlook sundrip

Art supplies are new. Again, these are observations not necessarily complaints. I love my new art supplies, especially the Winsor and Newton watercolors seen in the photos. Winsor Newton puts out a superior product that I totally love and yet there’s a feeling of sadness because they don’t have longer history with me. It would seem their only history with me is the hospitalization. 

It hurts my heart to think that what all the new things have in common is trauma. So I’ve got to try and change that view to one more positive, something like this: All the new things are associated with SURVIVAL not near death. They are evidence of life, of a future, of deep, deep roots that helped me walk to this very day. 

Jordan

Painting Feelings

Posted on by F.Magdalene

In the hospital I felt guilty for putting my friends through worry for me. I felt bad that they worried for five long months, especially around surgeries. When things would get harry I felt horrible for putting people through tears and worry.

In this art piece that expresses the guilt, I put hanging people on the shoulders of a figure standing behind a smaller faceless figure. Both figures have an amputated foot with darkened skin around the amputation site. The figure with the sunflower crown is holding a star in her left hand. 

Guilt fma

In the hospital I worried that the doctors would realize that they were putting forth a lot of effort for a nobody, and when they found out they’d stop caring for me. This piece expresses the issue of low self worth. 

The painting shows a split face which is typical in my art anymore. It shows two faceless figures and a large sunflower at the bottom. Also of note is the yellow hair and orange face of the faceless figure with spike hair. Again, yellow symbolizes disgusting things and there were plenty of gross things in the hospital. For her hair to be yellow is very significant for me. 

Nobody fma

Both works were created after the amputation and are in watercolor and ink. 

The painting above, where I express myself as No One is interesting to me since I had an alter named No One who always painted herself as faceless. That alter changed her name to Jordan and is interestingly enough, the main personality in the group. She is in affect, my face. 

The No One painting is also the inspiration for art where there are two faces as opposed to just a split face. I’ve been doing that in art therapy a lot lately. Dr. D and I talked about that last Friday. 

Faith

Three Birds

Posted on by F.Magdalene

Fifteen days total but halfway through I began to lose myself to the constant and extreme pain. My medication cocktail sometimes caused me to see dragons and aliens. I’d been in intensive care for the bilateral pulmonary embolism and life threatening blood clots. I was about to begin a chapter of life I’ll never forget, one that has left physical scars and emotional pain. What I’ve decided to do is express some of those experiences through art.

The first experience in multi media is called Three Birds.

Half way through ICU care I was losing it. The doctors worried I’d have to go on dialysis. My kidneys were shutting down, my heart was in trouble too. I was in trouble and I knew it so I asked my God, “Are you with me?” I needed to know if He knew his servant needed his comfort and approval. Continue reading “Three Birds”

Enduring the Days

Posted on by F.Magdalene

Snapshot fma
Snapshot

The last few days have been torture. I hurt from the top of my head to the soles of my feet. The amputation site is having an electric storm of shock and neuropathy. It’s been a bad few days and I’ve done very little reaching out. I’ve just been waiting for medication time!

The foot that was amputated coincidentally was the foot with Chronic Reflex Sympathetic Dystrophy. Though amputated for other reasons, I hoped the RSD fire and pain would stop, it didn’t and won’t. It doesn’t work that way. Continue reading “Enduring the Days”

The Brave Face

Posted on by F.Magdalene

I’m not brave. I’m not. I’m not rolling with the punches, I’m just getting punched. As I said, I’ve walked through the fire and I’m all burned up. I’m skinny, starving for a moment of real rest, of relief.

“The surgeon” will see me one more time in 3 months then that’s it. Really?! That’s all? You take my toes, wham bam thank you ma’am, I wash my hands of you? That’s how this works? And I’m just supposed to go on too, business as usual?

This is the second time he’s asked me to paint him something. So I will get a canvas and paint every tear I’ve sobbed! I’ll paint the times I covered my face and rocked back and forth in shock, “Oh my God!” so I can’t see what other trauma is next. I just cover my face and rock.

He gave me a script for an insert that will allow me to wear whatever shoes I want. He said to get a good brand of cocoa butter for my foot and the scars so the black scars will fade. I’ll buy new Chuck Taylor shoes after the insert gets here. I’ll walk around with no outward knowledge that anything is missing. I’ll limp but people won’t know why.

I will paint “the surgeon” a piece of this entire experience from fear to anguish to anger, loneliness and even gratitude. He’s going to get a painting of trauma because that’s what’s left in the wake.

Jordan

The Surgeon Who Stole My Toes

Posted on by F.Magdalene
Stone and Shadows
Stone and Shadows

I see “the surgeon” tomorrow, the one who amputated my toes. I wonder what kind of person it takes to look at a foot rotted black, take a saw and hack off a body part to be thrown away? What allows his mind to go there and his hands to follow? Though beyond repair, black as night, shriveled to nothing and dry, they were still mine.

My heart knows 100% that this surgeon was one who helped save my life, mine and many others. He is loved and honored, rightfully put on a pedestal. He has taken people with slim odds and brought them back from the brink. In my heart I see him that way, but behind my eyes I see the man who methodically removed part of me and threw me away.

Faith Austin

The Lesson

Posted on by F.Magdalene

The Lesson is an art story about the doctor telling me about my blood system. He explained that something about my DNA steers my blood wrong. Instead of living the normal 120-90 days, my blood lives 60-30 days then begins to break down.

When the doctor told me this I thought to myself, I have bad blood, that’s what makes me a bad person. This is why my mother can’t love me, I’m bad from the inside out. Yup, my head took me there. So how do I rewrite a very old message of being bad and bring my thoughts more in line with the times? I paint and talk to myself.

After some healthy ground techniques I pulled out my watercolors and began to paint symbols from the doctor’s visit. I painted a symbolic DNA strand and several levels of blood development.

I really enjoy painting like this. I take something medical and paint how it affected me emotionally. I’m going to keep doing this. Painting is healing for me and it allows me to process realities easier.

I apologize for the quality of the photo. All of this is still being painted, photographed and blogged from bed.

Jordan

“The Lesson” by
Faith Magdalene Austin
Watercolor and ink
8.5 x 5.5
98lb paper

Therapy Review: Permission to Speak

Posted on by F.Magdalene

Holding out for MoreI saw my psychiatrist today. We talked about the suicidal feelings. She asked if I feel suicidal at the Kingdom Hall. I said no, I feel like I can make it one more day. She and my psychologist suggested I stick close to the brothers and sisters. but especially try my best to be there in person.

I know my attitude stinks. I’ve got to pray much more about that……

Dr. D and I are taking on an art project where I let my body speak. Often I form experiences and emotions on canvas but they’re from my head. They’re all but photographs of my mind at that time. The rather large therapy painting will be a painting where body expresses itself as it goes through medical changes.

Imagine not speaking the language of anyone around you. Pictures are all you’ve got to tell how you experience the world, the world where there is only one person, one physical being. Now that body has to try and free itself of silence so that bitterness is released. It needs to speak and I can tell and I have a feeling this assignment will be very emotional, humbling and beneficial. I think I’ll have a sense of freedom. I think it’ll give me relief.

A moment of self talk

Continue reading “Therapy Review: Permission to Speak”

The Master of My Ghosts

Posted on by F.Magdalene

There’s an old, half blind dog lying on the porch. That old dog is me.
.

His daytime howl is common, almost a fixture in his home. He growls at shadows and charges falling, dry leaves as though they were a personal attack on himself and the dilapidated house he protects.

He can hardly see. He doesn’t hear clearly or process like others. This old dog with half an ear and legs born lame, feels so far removed from a living thing that even the softest touch can in an instant turn from intimacy to biting distrust.

Continue reading “The Master of My Ghosts”

A Month of Strings 2

Posted on by F.Magdalene

I’m still trying to come to terms with the health scare.

Patience - unavailable
Patience – unavailable

I micromanaged every move for fear it would be my last. I thought about a journal I’ve lost touch with, a girl who wrote about the “indignity of death.” How is she? Where is she? I cleaned my room because no one should have to clean it up. I started to take out the trash but I was tired. Then I thought, if I won’t be here tomorrow I should turn off the heat, ya know? I thought about doing my hair then realized it wouldn’t matter. I never thought, I need to throw away this or that so no one finds it.

Continue reading “A Month of Strings 2”