on Ruysch and his mummies, death, and pleasure.

Some time ago a friend introduced me to the NLM's Dream Anatomy Catalogue, from which I've found many amazing anatomical engravings and illustrations for inspiration. This is where I stumbled across Frederik Ruysch (1638-1731), a Dutch anatomist and a pioneer in techniques of preserving organs and tissue (a precursor to the BodyWorlds franchise?). Ruysch made artistic arrangements of his material and had his own museum of curiosities. Among the displays were a number of dioramas assembled from body parts and starring melodramatic fetal skeletons, flora and fauna. He was one of the first anatomists to venture completely from scientific documentation to ars moriendi, making surreal collages from the dead and discarded.

In Giacomo Leopardi’s "Dialogue Between Frederik Ruysch and his Mummies", written in 1824, Leopardi imagines Ruysch being awakened in the middle of the night by his specimens, who for a brief interval, are granted the power of consciousness:

RUYSCH. …but since time is short and leaves no choice, let me know in brief what kind of sensations of body and mind you experienced at the point of death.
MUMMY. I didn’t notice the actual point of death.
THE OTHER MUMMIES. We didn’t either.
RUYSCH. How come you didn’t notice it?
MUMMY. Just as you never notice the moment you begin to sleep, no matter how much attention you pay.
RUYSCH. But to fall asleep is natural.
MUMMY. And you don’t think dying is natural? Show me a man, or an animal, or a plant that doesn’t die.
RUYSCH. I’m no longer surprised that you go on singing and talking if you didn’t notice when you died. ‘Unwitting of the blow, he went ahead/Combating still, and yet already dead,’ writes an Italian poet. I thought that on this question of death, those like you would know something more than the living. But going back to our subject, at the point of death didn’t you feel any pain?
MUMMY. What kind of pain can it be if one who feels it doesn’t notice it?
RUYSCH. At any rate, all are convinced that the sensation of death is extremely painful.
MUMMY. As if death were a sensation, and not the opposite…
RUYSCH. Then what is death if it’s not pain?
MUMMY. Pleasure rather than anything else. You should know that dying, like falling asleep, does not take place in an instant, but by degrees. True, these degrees are more or less greater or smaller according to the variety of the causes and to the kinds of death. In the last moment, death brings neither pain nor pleasure, no more than does sleep. In the preceding moments it cannot produce pain because pain is something alive, and, at that time, that is, after the beginning of death, man’s senses are moribund, which is like saying weakened in the extreme. It may well be a cause of pleasure, for pleasure is not always something alive; in fact, most human pleasures consist in some sort of langour, so that man’s senses are capable of pleasure even when they are near extinction since very often langour itself is pleasure, especially when it frees you from suffering; for, as you well know, the cessation of pain or discomfort is in itself pleasure. So, the langour of death ought to be the more welcome as it frees man from greater suffering…

Something to think about and explore...

southern comfort

bonaventure cemetary, savannah GA

Here are just a few pictures of the spanish moss from my trip to Savannah & Charleston. A friend is looking to buy a house down south, so I went with her, hoping to deter the chance of getting harassed while waiting at 4am in the Charleston bus station. The 20 hour bus ride was miserable for my body. Looking at decrepit historical houses and experiencing the strange but hospitable southern milieu was beyond fascinating. We went to several cemeteries on our trip, and they were all gorgeous. 

"after life's fitful fever, he sleeps well."

PSA: being a cancer survivor is fucking cool.

Couple of things:

1.) Our kickstarter has four more days left-- get your butt on over there if you'd like some hand-made cancer merch! (I tried the scarves on personally to make sure they'd fit bald heads everywhere.)

Right now, Jon & I are fleshing out the "Cancerland" chapter of our comic-- there are just so many parallels to be made between amusement parks and cancer. For instance, both require you to waste an exorbitant amount of time waiting in lines. Both involve riding scary machinery, causing you either to giggle or puke your guts out (or both simultaneously). Many jokes will be made about CT scans (hold your breath, exhaaaleee), MRI's, and radiation lasers. We'll have an old-timey side-show freak section as a nod to our Last Gasp publishers. Every backer gets a ticket!

What would be your ultimate Cancerland ride? The grossest one I've thought of so far is Splash Mountain: the colon-cancer log ride. That one's for Becca. I'll fast-pass it to the front of the line every time.



2.) i2y is having its annual Stupid Cancer Ungala on June 7th here in NYC. If you're in the area, I'd love to meet you there. I'll be handing out copies of our preview comic, commiserating, and getting sloshed. The only thing I disagree with is this whole "no black tie" business-- I'll be dressed to the nines as usual.

chronically chillin'

It's so exciting to see the amount of support that our comic project is getting! A BIG THANKS to everyone that has become a backer so far. Every time I see a new donation in my inbox I jump for joy. Someone even donated in palindrome! mmm symmetry. 

Today I want to talk about chronic pain (again, forever, we are always together).  I don't think people talk about it enough, considering how drastically pain can effect daily life. Are young adults too embarrassed? I am. I've always been the independent perfectionist personality type, so admitting to people that I can't handle the physicality needed to do something is always heartbreaking. Often I don't admit my pain and trudge on-- a decision I sorely regret the next day.

Currently I have a friend staying with me that wants to go on all of the amazing tourist excursions one takes while visiting NY-- and I fear I just don't have the energy.

Chronic pain steals your energy and holds it hostage. You've got to ration. If my friend wants to go to the MET & Natural History Museum, (which I'd love to see, btw) I have to plan my energy/pain needs for the day. I have to rest the whole day before, and whole day after.  I can't just decide that morning that I'm going to go. It's hard to explain to "normal" people, because I used to be "normal" and I miss the freedom it implies, even though most people take it for granted.

Imagine feeling exhausted 24/7 from the drugs you take to manage your pain, which is also present 24/7. Now imagine doing everything you do in normal life-- walking to get groceries, working overtime, entertaining friends, cleaning the bathroom, cleaning yourself. Chronic pain turns all of these menial tasks into colossal events that must be planned for. And I really, really dislike planning!

Awhile back I found a superb explanation of this dilemma from a woman living with lupus. You can easily substitute lupus for cancer or chronic pain in her example. If you are struggling to understand the needs of anyone living with chronic illness, especially young adults, I highly recommend reading this "spoon" analogy, cheesy as it might be. Here is an excerpt:

"It's hard, the hardest thing I ever had to learn is to slow down, and not do everything. I fight this to this day. I hate feeling left out, having to choose to stay home, or to not get things done that I want to. I wanted her to feel that frustration. I wanted her to understand, that everything everyone else does comes so easy, but for me it is one hundred little jobs in one. I need to think about the weather, my temperature that day, and the whole day’s plans before I can attack any one given thing. When other people can simply do things, I have to attack it and make a plan like I am strategizing [sic] a war. It is in that lifestyle, the difference between being sick and healthy. It is the beautiful ability to not think and just do. I miss that freedom. I miss never having to count “spoons”."

My point is that I don't have enough spoons to go to the MET today, even though I would like to. It's impossible to understand living with chronic pain if you haven't before-- but it's important to try to understand those who do, and take it into consideration when you're with them. Not in a verbose sickly-sympathetic way, but just... keep them in mind. Us chronic pain sufferers are REALLY good at hiding it.

About Our Comic

I want to make a post to let my readers know about our comic-book project that was funded by Kickstarter last year, and I want to be very direct & honest, as usual. We grossed $7,000 in funds to finish the project, and this went into our living expenses for 3 months as we worked, supplies for backer prizes, and supplies to produce a professional comic, including drawing materials and a scanner.

The plan was to have everything done by the time [ehm-tee-vee] airs a documentary series focusing on my life as a young cancer survivor. The show also covers our production of the "preview" comic & how we found our awesome publisher.

Unfortunately, our money ran out before we could finish the book. The reasons for this are many-- some personal, some not. Originally our goal was to publish a 26 page comic. But as we went along, Jon, our illustrator, wanted to make it bigger-- 100 pages bigger. I have always expressed my concern over this, that we should edit to stay in budget & meet our deadline. Jon is very enthusiastic about this bigger, more involved comic, and assured me that he'll finish the illustrations. I share his enthusiasm, because the story & potential to help people is great. However I feel very uneasy about asking the community for more money to finish this project.

The money would go to backer prizes, and Jon's living expenses as he finishes this 100-page comic.

What do you guys think? Do you want to see another Kickstarter fundraiser, or are you happy with the "preview" comic we have published? The story that Jon & I have developed has a lot of potential, and I want to see it finished. But is asking the cancer community for another $5,500 morally acceptable? Am I reading too much into this?

I would really appreciate your input. I feel the project was somewhat mismanaged, and I am partially to blame for this, because I've got a lot of other cancery things on my plate-- I don't have the energy to micromanage. I put it all in Jon's hands, and although he's done an amazing job so far, the scope of the project has overwhelmed its creators.

thoughts? I want this project to be for you, and I want you to have a say in its fate.

here is a link to check out the new project.

Thanks for reading, guys!

For that Badass, Becca Babcock.

Last month I was perusing the blogs that I follow, and I was sad to realize that our Becca is gone. I say "our Becca" because she was a vocal (and super-awesome) young adult cancer blogger, who shared her journey and followed along as we shared ours. She was part of our collective voice, and she will always be, thanks to her writing.  I am extremely touched that her mother continues to post her journal entries, so that we may benefit from Becca's private insight. I have years and years of journal entries just like Becca's, and I would hope that my mom would do the same. I think our shared goal is always: I want to be of benefit. I want my life to mean something to someone.  I think that by sharing our deepest fears and pains, we can accomplish this in an especially intimate way.

I met the fiercely intelligent Becca in 2008 through Planet Cancer. She commented occasionally on this blog and she always had good advice. I guess it was as if she'd done 5 successive tours of duty-- she'd been at war for awhile, and she knew the ropes. We all exchange battle stories, but in the end it seems we still feel hopelessly alone. We fight alone. Nevertheless, there are things that Becca wrote, privately, that make me feel not-so-alone:

"You know what one of the most awful parts of cancer is? Knowledge.Of course, that is an odd statement, because at first I would be inclined to say that is one of the gifts of cancer. When trying to appease myself somehow with the thought of cancer and all that it entails, I would find a very small amount of comfort in certain knowledge that comes with diagnosis.That knowledge includes things such as: I KNOW the true meaning of the phrase 'Life is Short'."

[I often feel that I "know too much" for my own mental health, due to what cancer has taught me.]

"I think often how I don't think I'll be alive very long. not like I think I may keel over, say, tomorrow. but unless a miracle happens very very soon, I feel inevitably, I'll be defeated :(  (incidentally, it's now tomorrow & I didn't keel over...). I sometimes wonder why i can't just get it easy & fall asleep one night & just not wake up? I wonder if people that has happened to, if they could ever appreciate how lucky they are to have that happen. they not only have no idea that's coming, they don't have to spend time agonizing over unfinished business... they don't have to worry about the pain and suffering associated with a sudden violent death. I really envy those people. Anywho, I'm kinda just weary on life today. I can't wrap my mind around my life at this time. I don't seem able to find motivation in order to "care" about things. & in general...I'm just tired of people. normal people. they bother me without even trying or attempting to. oh, that, and it's back to cold.  BAH."

[link to Becca's amazingly articulate, literally bad-ass blog here]


I want to dedicate my life, somehow, to young adults with cancer-- there is nothing else I feel passionate about anymore. I've spent the last few months in an incredibly deep depression. It has been difficult coming to terms with life in the afterglow of cancer. It has left an indelible mark of uncertainty and finality upon my life. It has left physical and mental pain that has yet to resolve, and at times is overwhelming. I am still searching for a life after cancer. Turns out it doesn't just come to you naturally, like breathing, as one would expect. You really have to fight for stability and your own ideal future. You have to come to terms with the knowledge you've been given-- that pain endures, and death is imminently unknown, and therefore life is precious and bullshit is insufferable. Right now, that's what I'm working on. If I can get past those things, and stay healthy, I'll be golden.

I am unsure what role I will play in cancer advocacy, but I'd like it to be an ongoing goal. For now, Jon and I are continuing with our Cancer Comic. If things go as planned, we should have the entire graphic novel finished by September, just in time for the MTV documentary to air. We are adding some of my personal writing to the final publication, and I've been thinking about opening up a submissions process to allow fellow cancer writers and artists to be published. Thoughts? Anyone interested in submitting an essay or illustration to Terminally Illin? I feel that it could have a monumental effect on the future cancer community if it became a communal, collective effort... but I'm unsure of how to facilitate this.

I am also planning on being much more active here on CIH, because I've realized that my writing continues to positively effect people's lives. I want to say that I appreciate immensely the feedback that my readers give-- there are many visitors largely unknown to me that have been following my story for years, probably out of morbid curiosity, but also out of compassion and a genuine appreciation for human expression. People like me, people like Becca. People like you. Let's keep sharing, no matter what.

Vintage Cancer #1

thorazine for your cancer woes!

this sanatorium used lye to burn tumors off! 

we've been slashing & burning since the Victorian era. 

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