Tracy
This
painting is a description of how they saw me, the me in the hospital
bed. I was considered to be a patient and I was treated like a patient
and this rather negated the rest of my life - the life that had been
going on outside up until the moment I was admitted. It is a bleak sight;
I am just a face above the sheets. I was working in High Holborn: work
was a very important part of my life. I was struck by the red arch and
so I felt that represented the work aspect of my life. The get-well
card I received from a friend who is a 'bit of a lad'. He's not particularly
sentimental but he sent it saying, 'I can't send you flowers so here's
a card of flowers', and I was quite touched. There's a picture of my
cat on a cushion because I realised just how very valuable he was to
me. When I had my operation not only was my bowel taken away but my
womb as well, so I'm not able to be have children. I admit it, he is
a child substitute and therefore I am extremely fond of him. I found
out that my niece Flora was going to be born as I was going into hospital
to have a rather nasty thing removed from within me. I was very aware
of the parallel with my sister-in-law who, I am very pleased to say,
was going to have something very nice removed from her, Flora, an absolute
joy.
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We're now
very good friends, along with all my other nieces and nephews. The picture
of me and my partner hugging each other in the nude, with various people
looking on is a statement of us - our deep relationship, and the relationship
between me and my parents, and all the other people who have been so
very supportive. All these things were going on outside this bed life.
I was only in for a week, it drove me mad because it was far too hot,
I wasn't getting any sleep and I needed to get home to all these things
I am talking to you about. I had a bit of space left and I thought I
should do me walking along my journey. I made it the yellow brick road.
I needed a colour and I chose yellow. It shows that you do have to fall
back on your own resources and examine your own inner feelings and your
own inner capabilities.
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An
experience like this does make you think deep down to your core. As
soon as you're diagnosed the medical profession sees you as being the
illness with a person attached. Actually you are an ordinary person,
with something dreadful that has happened to you, absolutely dreadful.
That doesn't mean that all the rest of your life isn't carrying on.
Maybe you're going to have to withdraw from some of it because of the
physical limits, but things like relationships will still be there.
So this picture is about how you are viewed: as the illness, a cancer
patient in that bed, somebody who's had a colostomy. I don't blame anybody,
I'm just saying that's how it feels. I was warned that there would be
people who would find it very difficult to cope with and some who might
cross the road rather that talk to you. I managed to find a way of telling
people and making it sound like there was a chance, there was hope,
and therefore they shouldn't get upset about it. I cried buckets to
get to this stage but I think it helped other people with facing the
illness. People still treated me with kid gloves, gradually that's changing.
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It is a
great joy when people start treating you normally, or even harshly again,
you know you're on the road to recovery. I would like the medical profession
to treat you as a person. You could be their sister or brother. You
could be them. Just think how you would like it if you were treated
as if your brains were removed before you came in. Try and remember
we are individuals and not just patients, and try to give hope. There
are people out there who have had this, been treated and got through
it. Those people don't make the headlines. They have disappeared into
the distance and are getting on with life. I'd like to be there everytime
someone's diagnosed to just say,"I know somebody who's got through
it". Not being believed can be one of the hardest parts of all
this too, not to be taken seriously when you know there is something
seriously wrong. I started getting pain, and so I knew I was ill but
I was being told by the medical profession, who looked at the scans,
'you're fine'. The fact was I wasn't fine. Luckily I stuck with what
my body was telling me and insisted on something being done. It was
a great relief when they eventually acknowledged that I really was ill
and that the pain was real. There is this sense of catharsis when at
last everybody agrees what the situation is. Also I would always ask,
'is there anything I can do?' That is extremely important because of
the feeling that things are running away with you, and that you don't
have any control. I need to feel that I can do something to help this
process. I'm part of the team to help me get better too.
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