Unintended Artwork

Beginning with a little abrasion and blossoming into a full blown wound, our dear friend Sherry had had something of a misadventure with a medical garment.

Through the family grapevine, I had heard about Sherry's newest medical issue and that it had come about through the irresponsible behavior of a physical therapist measuring Sherry for her new Lymphedema garments, and then changing the numbers so that it would be tighter and give her more compression. Sherry had Lymphedema, a condition where fluid retention is caused by the blockage of lymphatic vessels, and these garments were to provide compression to prevent lymphatic fluid from settling in the lower extremities. Instead, this particular pair had caused the aforementioned abrasion, making her wary of continuing use of the product, and unfortunately, leaving Sherry in a state of medical disenfranchisement, petrified to call even the hospital to complain about the therapist, let alone seek reparations for her continued medical care which wouldn't have been necessary had the woman simply provided the creator company with the accurate measurements. Additionally, Sherry's "flipper-like appendages" made it difficult for her to care for the wound herself, causing her to seek my mother Violet's assistance.

Violet, a beneficent woman, was called into service for our hapless friend to purchase and deliver bandages for this wound, which she did, as well as assisting her in the application of same. Due to the nature of the ailment which had led to the use of the garment causing unwanted moisture to soften the surrounding skin and the location of the wound, mom suggested that Sherry go to wound care and have it seen and cared for there. After mom agreed to go with her, Sherry conceded and they made a date. The staff at wound care were lovely, as usual, and all was going well until COVID struck, at which point Sherry, who suffered with COPD among other things, self-isolated and mom began to care for the wound in Sherry's home.

During this time, I'd been trying to work out my household layout to accommodate a viable area in which to create my crafts and artwork. I am a singer, a writer of grand essays, poetry and songs, and I work with paper. I bring my poetry to life in collage using words, phrases, and punctuation hand cut with scissors from various magazines, in conjunction with hand lettering, stamps and stencils as well as needle and thread. In addition, hand crafting personalized cards for family members brings me a significant joy which I'd been missing more and more. This scale of art creation requires the free-flowing space I had yet to achieve. I was extremely frustrated and had come to something of a standstill in this procedure when my mother called me into service to assist with the wrapping of Sherry's leg. I had been thrilled that mom had been working with Sherry and was tickled to be asked for Sherry's sake as well as the much needed break this seemingly simple distraction would provide.

My loving mother had been providing my stepfather's diabetic wound care in the home for several years with the complete agreement and trust of his podiatrist, making her the best person to call in this event. I had assisted mom with his care on many occasions and we were well prepared for whatever may arise in the wound care department. We were not prepared however, for the wrapping of the leg being such a difficulty. Nor were we at all prepared for the journey upon which we were about to embark.

After several months, the wound had officially healed. We'd used every trick we'd known for keeping the wrappings up, with moderate success. Sherry had made the decision in the interim to seek -with our support- additional care from a different physical therapist, to treat her Lymphedema. There ensued the new leg of the journey with a different kind of garment. We had the same problem with this garment as we'd had with the wrappings for the wound, though, and were quite put out.

We had to fill in the gaps with dishtowels, at first, because they were so significant that the garment would collapse on her lower calf and strangle down to the ankle. We moved from dishcloths to foam cut from a mattress pad. Every available neuron I possessed was laboring over how to make this situation tolerable for our dear Sherry. I found myself wrapping it around her foot and ankle and measuring with my fingers, and cutting it freehand, as well as beveling the edge so as not to leave a line on her sensitive skin. This was not the stuff of everyday crafting. This was even more fulfilling and arguably more practically useful than my normal creations. I often found both mom and Sherry staring at me in wonder that I'd just magically created this new item that was able to give her some measure of comfort.

Sadly, our dear friend passed away in May, after a collaboration of some of her other health issues beset her breathing and thence her heart. It has grieved us that she's gone, but we know that the care and heart felt service we provided in the days we didn't even know would be her last, fulfilled our wish that we'd been harboring of spending more time with her and provided her with much needed companionship and many belly laughs.