Sometime on the 1th of June, in the middle of my fourth week of chemo, I was in my room in the hospital focussing on not vomiting and I picked up quite a bit of movement in the hallway. Doctors, nurses, regular people.
I asked one of the nurses as she was checking up on me and she mentioned you and that things weren’t looking too good.
I saw a lot of your family members waiting outside of the room next to mine, where you were. Through the wall I heard people praying and singing to you for hours. I dozed off and abruptly awoke to rushed footsteps from nurses and doctors. The prayers and songs had turned to tears.
I know nothing about you and I’ll never get to know you but I still think about you a lot.
“Do not be far from me,
for trouble is near
and there is no one to help.”
— Psalm 22
In April this year I was diagnosed with cancer, and treatment has since ended. I should be safe now, so no need to worry.
Drawing during this period gave me no respite and I lost the purpose of it, or perhaps I am simply unable to express the scale of what happened.
But now it is October / Inktober, and I figure just putting a fragment on paper is enough.
This drawing is not about what happened, because it cannot be distilled like that. Though I imagine it will be in there and in whatever I end up doing in the future regardless. In fragments.