Art therapy

So, one of the coordinators gave me and Les a folder (that Les says is actually super useful for organizing the flood of information). On the folder, it’s branded like a college/corporate folder, in lime green and labeled “C101 Cancer 101: the basics.” Obv, both me and Lesley think this is horrible, as though cancer is this new class I’m in with tests and quizzes and classmates. (In grudging fairness, I can see how framing it this way could be useful, but seriously??? Ugh. So awful!)

So my friends were over yesterday and Emily, who has a masters in like art… Study? Therapy? Administration? … Anyway, she asks if I want her to fix it. Hells yes, I do!!!?!

The result is awesome. Thanks Emily!

cancer_basics_101

The HPATT explanation:

So, Lesley wanted something to take notes in… Good idea with medical stuff. I have sitting on my bookcase the journal that starts with “we just found out that mom has cancer” and ends after only a dozen or so entries a year later with “this is too depressing. I don’t want to write anymore.” I figure there is SO much blank paper in this beautiful cloth bound notebook, but I’ve never been able to write anything else in it AND it’s already about cancer so I tell her to use that. (I know this all sounds pretty depressing, but hold on. I’m getting to the good parts with hysterical laughter. Wait for it.)

So I’m interested in what that last entry is. I haven’t read this for 17 years. So I start reading aloud. I mean, typical, super horrible things about feelings and sadness, all, of course, told in my “I was clearly born an English major” writing style with “crazy teenage girl grieving melodramatic voice.” About what you’d expect with GRE words and (omg I cringe writing this) my own truly appalling teenage poetry. So the best line out of all of this “I hate feeling like horse poo all the time!” Les, Emma, Emily and I burst into laughter at that. I was horse crazy well into my teens, that line is so adorably shows a sheltered, “Mormon raised so no swear words” sweetness and it is at the same time a perfect description of those awful events: horse poo all the time. We seriously laughed for…. 5 minutes? Ten? I mean, we were also laughing at the aforementioned ghastly teen angst poem, but we laughed way too long at this. So of course Emily incorporated it into the cancer 101 rebranding with a charming cartoon horse. I also imagine that, as the as the depression fairy recently, that is the sound my wand makes as I spread horse poo and sadness around. HPATT! HPATT indeed.

hpatt

Love love!

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