It’s been quiet on the blog, but for good reasons. This lung cancer person went traveling across the seas, to Rome, Florence, and Venice. Adventures of the pasta kind may not be what one might expect to hear from someone with Stage 4 lung cancer, but such are the miracles of today’s research-driven medicines. (yay, osimertinib!)
It was an astounding trip. We went with a Road Scholar tour, which is tailored to the nerd in all of us. We had lectures, superb guided tours of major museums and historic sites, and lots of free time to pursue our own interests, e.g., gelato. (Only kidding. Sort of.) Every detail was planned by the organization, then led each day by our quirky, ultra-organized trip leader. Particular highlights included a private evening at the Sistine Chapel in Rome and St. Mark’s Basilica in Venice. 18 of us in the Sistine Chapel? In the Basilica? Yes, please. I would do another Road Scholar trip in a heartbeat.
We especially enjoyed our group. Although there was a range of careers, I’d say the majority were educators and related specialists (i.e., speech pathologists). Everyone was warm, friendly, interesting, and interested. We laughed a lot. And, in the Department of It’s a Small World, we discovered that several fellow travelers have relatives who live mere blocks from us. I especially appreciated the time we spent with one couple, for one because they were great people. And, I don’t know how it came up, but the husband and I discovered we’re both living with cancer. He’s got follicular lymphoma. He’s a writer and teacher of writing on the east coast. He, too, has a cancer blog. We didn’t dwell on the parallels in our lives, but knowing that someone else was seeing everything with carpe diem eyes enriched my trip, and my sense of gratitude. (Look! A Stage 4 lung cancer person is traveling!)
It’s hard to pick my favorite moments. I mean, if you had to choose between Michelangelo’s David or Bernini’s Apollo and Daphne, or a bunch of paintings by Rafael or Caravaggio, you’d actually try to make those choices? But two particular experiences took my breath away. One was spending time with Caravaggio’s paintings (Conversion of St. Paul and the Crucifixion of St. Peter) in the Basilica of Santa Maria del Popolo. No painter expresses the simultaneous brilliance and darkness of profound religious experience like Caravaggio. After the hustle-bustle of Rome, I was craving quiet; I, a lapsed Catholic, sat through a mass at the basilica so I would have more time to be with the paintings. The music that is the Italian language washed around me; I felt refreshed, and deeply moved.
Then, Michelangelo’s Prisoners. Our guide explained the challenging circumstances of Michelangelos life from which those sculptures emerged. The guide said something like, what does a sculptor do in the throes of emotional agony? He sculpts. I’ve never seen an artist’s work express such raw emotion. It’s one of two times I’ve wept in the presence of great art.
And lung cancer receded. Oh, my new watch pulsed and chimed to remind me to take medication. But I wasn’t a patient in front of the art. I was just another soul. Dare I say some out of reach part of me experienced healing?
I’ve included some photos below.
And, life wouldn’t be complete without…you guessed it, cake! Here’s a little something I delivered not long after we got back. On the trip, I had a little jolt as I shared pictures from my cake gallery. One very bright, accomplished person said, wistfully, and with a little catch in her voice, “Nobody every made me a cake like that.” I’ll think of that the next time I characterize my volunteer work as just cake.
Thanks for reading. Here’s hoping you can bask in some art today, with or without the frosting.
