Cath Sheard Art

Blog

  • Words are tricky

    I love listening to spoken words poets such as Shane Koyczan, this is the link to his poem ‘More often than sometimes’. I enjoy their ability so speak without tripping over their words, something I’ve never quite mastered. I’ve never let it worry me much mind you; I’ve spoken at conferences and co-present on communication and teamwork as part of my job.

    More importantly, I admire their capacity to talk openly about hard stuff in beautiful ways. One of the things I realised as part of the mental health work I’ve done post-weight loss surgery, is there are so many things I just can’t talk about. Things I won’t say. Words I have smothered with food.

    In the last 2 1/2 years I’ve found ways to say some of it, either in writing (in its many forms) or whispered quietly, as though turning down the volume lessens the feelings of shame. Shame … one of the feelings often at the heart of food addiction like mine.

    Words are tricky – my art journals allow me to pour out my feels in pictures and paint, leaving those tricky, slippery words aside for another day.

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  • Can I? Should I?

    It’s June 1st and that means #BlogJune and a month of committing pen to paper … or finger to iPad. I used to blog most days, particularly when I was doing my art qualification. These days, I tend to use Twitter more, as it’s where my professional networks are.

    Why do I still blog, and attempt #BlogJune? For me, blogging is a good way to slow down and think about things. Extroverts tend to “talk it through to think it through”. Introverts tend to think it through, then talk. For me, I’m more likely to write if I want to share, or art journal if it’s just for me.

    There’s a lot going on for Tony and I at the moment, and blogging will be a good way for me to clarify what’s going on in my head. Although no doubt some of it will only be getting committed to my art journals, which are more private. Will I manage to blog every day? Who knows, but I’m happy to give it a go. Want to join me?

  • Keeping it brief

    Brief because, unusually for me, I haven’t got a lot to say (sort of).

    Sandra – my best friend of 53 years – spent Friday & Saturday nights with us. Bruno, her wee rescue dog, glued himself to Tony. She got out & about, taking incredible photos for her travel blog. The ones she took of the wreck at Patea beach are incredible, it’s the most exposed we ever remember seeing it.

    This afternoon I went to a work friend’s baby shower, which was way more fun that I had imagined. Tony’s brother Roger came round for dinner and got here about 15 minutes before me – and 20 minutes after Tony had a decent fall. He was heading to the kitchen on his walker and got super dizzy, tried to grab the doorway and missed. The walker went forward and he went backward, fortunately landing on his bum rather than hitting his head on the wall. He’s ok but stiffening up and I suspect there’s going to be a great bruise.

    He had a very rough day, again, with his tummy on Thursday and that evening we had a brief chat about the fact one day he will need rest home level care. Tonight he and I have talked about how he’s getting dizzy more and more often, and that I worry about his safety when I’m not here. He has a medic alarm but his memory is not always great and this afternoon he didn’t think to use it. We’re talking about the merits of Te Mahana, where he might know people, versus Hawera where I could pop in during my lunch break and after work – or be there in 5 minutes if they needed me.

    The time isn’t yet, but it’s approaching – maybe quite fast. Like almost everything, we’re talking about it, planning ahead and having the difficult conversations.

  • Left foot, right foot

    The only way forward is one foot in front of the other – left foot, right foot, hayfoot, strawfoot. That’s Tony and I at the moment, just putting one foot in front of the other.

    I’m healing okay but have to be careful; if I do too much or eat the wrong thing, it hurts under my ribs, which – in a medical sense – is a million miles away from the actual injury. No wonder I got so sick without us figuring out the problem!

    In the last week or so, with Hospice’s advice/support, we’ve made a change in how we view feeding Tony. Until now, my default has been to make him a “proper” meal unless he doesn’t want it – which he normally doesn’t – in which case he’d have something like yoghurt or baked custard and stewed apples. Now my default is custard etc unless he wants a proper meal, and he doesn’t. They also suggested “baby veges” so we’re trying him on mashed potato, pumpkin, carrot & parsnip. So far, so good and it doesn’t seem to give him unpleasant hiccups like other food had started to do.

    Nutritionally it’s not ideal of course, but he has two chocolate Fortisip a day which is sufficient calories etc to be going on with, given he doesn’t do much now. Most days he does a little on his latest project (he’s finished a model truck and is onto a paint by numbers Yoda) and dozes while listening to music. He’s often in bed by 8.30 or so because he’s tired out.

    He’s dizzy a lot of the time now, so Mum’s walker is back in use and Goldie is delighted. She sits on it and seems to feel quite at home – bless her ancient creaky wee soul!

    We’re grateful for his carers who come in twice a day, Hospice staff who ease the load, family and friends who check on him, and my work who are always supportive.

  • Germinating

    For a while more I’ve been considering a series of works about the journey Tony and I are on with his health. I’m documenting it in my art journals and am fairly open on social media, especially Twitter, but want to create art I can exhibit.

    I started something a few weeks back and got stuck. You can see the initial layers below on a quick night light photo. The beginning felt right but I didn’t know where to go next. I put it aside and spent some time making printed papers & collage tissues, and playing in my art journals.

    Today started off very rough; Tony couldn’t stand or walk without help and was tearful and upset. He came right and we went for a drive and morning tea out. He slept for quite a bit of the trip but it was good to get him out of the house.

    Tonight he was exhausted so went to bed early. I headed back to my art desk, pulled out the work I’d started weeks ago, and grabbed the tissue papers. I’ll have a look in the daylight but think I’ve got it. I’m feeling quietly excited!