as many of you know, i’m in the process of turning my story of cancer survival into a graphic novel. i think the visual medium will give a great visceral feel to the story – i can tell you that i have a bulb that drains fluid out of my groin, but a drawing of it really drives the impact of the image home. my friend suerte has volunteered as my artist – he’s an incredibly talented painter and tattoo artist, not to mention the author of a graphic memoir. check out his impressive gallery here. if anyone in the new york area wants a tattoo, get in touch with suerte.
as part of the planning process, i’m consolidating groinstrong into a single, bound document – it’ll end up being hundreds of pages by the time i’m done. in reading through my entries from my very first surgery in may 2008, i was struck by my boundless optimism and manic enthusiasm. i’d forgotten that i used to post a half-dozen times a day! the last couple years have worn me down a bit – only understandable, i think. it’s been a long haul. but i’m so glad to have the record of my experience. i’ve never been a very effective journaler, and there’s something powerful about being able to reach into your past and see what’s there. in one entry i complained about having to wait two hours at the doctor – my, how that’s changed. i thought that my time roughing it through africa had taught me patience, but i have achieved a whole new level of understanding. the world does not bend, no matter the frantic tugging. i have my crosswords, and my comic books, and when the world is ready for me, then it will be my turn. what a waste of energy to fight the natural way of things.
After weeks of frantic tugging, your comment is a sweet reminder for me today of what’s important. Thanks for that, Jonah.