The Month to Look at the Big Picture

Back in June, after being run over by the radiation truck, people would ask me if I thought I might get back to my business someday.

My business was the result of 20-years of hardwork and dreams. It's what I always wanted to do, what I always intended to do. It was taking off, doing well, work was keeping my desk consistently full. Then cancer came to town.

I'm kind of a strange commodity in the publishing field, whereas I have a diverse grouping of experiences, print design, web design, photography, writing, illustration. The most important thing I ever learned as an artist was to master my craft not just creatively, but technically, and I followed that philosophy completely.

I felt my craft was really beginning to reach a point where it was worthy to stand-up to any others in my field. I had designed several ads for national magazines, including Sports Illustrated. I can do so much with a photo it would leave you watching with your jaw dropped wide open.

I was getting to the point with the business where I was considering adding Barb to the scheme, billing, books, collections, sales, customer service - everything to do with managing the operations of the business to free me up to work, work, work.

I was starting to think about maybe hiring a database/web programming/network super guru person to free me up from all the over-the-top technical aspects necessary for today's modern design methods.

Then I thought ahead to a next stage, junior print and web designers, additional photographers - delivering top-level product, at very reasonable prices.

I never committed to a long-term plan. I'm a terrible boss. I didn't really want employees. But employees would allow me to focus solely each day on the design work and artwork itself. Tough decisions, but decisions I didn't have to make.

There were melancholy moments in ending my business. It was, as I said, the result of a lifetime dream. But the severity of my situation allowed me to easily accept the decision. It was as obvious of a choice, as obvious can be. Sometimes, somethings are necessary, even choosing to stop a longtime dream. And I accepted it well. It was done.

But I really still didn't know exactly how to answer the question, "Do you think you'll get back to it? Open the business again?"

I knew I had plenty of time to think it over. I was in for a long, difficult rehab from treatments. But there was still that question.

In closing the business we had to reconstruct our personal budgets and overall 2007 gameplans. In working our budget a group of financial markers all landed in February of 2008. So I started to tell people, I'm going to step back and take a look at things again in February.

In a lot of ways I really never thought that re-opening the business was a very viable option. I know cancer is not my fault, but I still felt like I let my clients down. And I never wanted to do that again.

Yet, on the other side I realize that we can all meet our maker at any moment, yet we still go out everyday and practice our craft or trade without fear and with confidence.

I figured that I could simply reinvent myself, work on more fine illustration and photography. Or maybe I could find a niche' where I could give back, maybe to other cancer patients, maybe to kids as a soccer coach.

It's February. I still don't know.

Some of our financial markers for the year are still coming together, including of course tax filings for the past year. Towards the end of February the pharmaceutical company will reanalyze my chemo payments for the year. I could end up owing anywhere between $0 and $4800 a month. I just learned my other two monthly prescription drugs are $500 and $250 a month, which will quickly fill up my Aetna imposed $2500 max per year.

So...lots of decisions to be made. Lots of numbers to be crunched in February, lots of options to be explored.

And four old clients in the past week have come out of the blue in the past week to ask me if I might get back to the business.

We'll see how it all comes together.