Taking it a sip at a time…

You know sucks? Adhesions.

I have them because a rather violent attack of ovarian cysts resulted in a radical hysterectomy in my mid thirties.

I knew removing a few organs would leave some lasting scars but I didn’t know my wiggly and adventurous lower intestines would someday wind themselves around one of those scars causing me to regurgitate food more than I would like.

I thought it was a stomach flu until I spent my first night at the hospital waiting to see if they needed to whisk me into surgery. It wasn’t until that delightful 24 hours of not eating or drinking that I understood several important facts.

A. Intestines move around. Who knew? I mean, my elbow doesn’t just one day decided to wrap itself around my knee so why would I be expected to know the miles of tubing inside me were closer to snakes than pipes?

B. When you have a partial bowel obstruction eating and drinking becomes complicated.

C. The only cure for an obstruction is not eating or drinking much or surgery. (Thereby causing more adhesions for the wriggly intestines to entwine their clever selves around.)

D. I make good soup. Thank the gods.

So. I eat a diet a toddler would envy. Pudding, Jello, cottage cheese, applesauce, soup. Sometimes bread or a cracker or two. When I don’t, when I dare to dream of salad and beef or a crisp apple, I have days of discomfort until I once again provide my body with what amounts to predigested foods.

I could eat a more adult diet if I was able to chew each bite a minimum of 20 times but with atypical facial pain I am unable to manage that for more than a meal every few days.

So I am taking one sip at a time. Possibly forever.

New life goals? Soup’s on the Brain – a cookbook for those who can’t chew.


I’ve been working on finding my voice with my art. I’ve tried EbrĂș, watercolor, oil, acrylic, pastel, sublimation dyes, all sorts of art styles. I seem to be an artist who likes to play in all the paints, and all the styles.

Most recently I’ve created a painting inspired by 2020. I used paper from a lampshade my dog decided to eat – as I believe our pets often lead us to our creative intentions. Clearly this paper was meant for more than mere light filtration.

I used dictionary pages and words as a backdrop, and watercolor and metallic paints, and quilling paper. I added and tore away, I used the metallic paints to mimic kintsugi techniques along the tears in the paper.
I wanted to capture the loss and the healing of the pandemic.

So here it is: Wrought. A finished something.