Capturing Cancer

Photo of the Day
Self portrait.

I'm just about done reading a book on photographer Annie Liebovitz that Alyssa kindly gave me for Christmas. All in all, I'd say Ms. Liebovitz is a much better photographer than she is a writer. But I've found the book interesting because of the journey her life has taken.

Liebovitz was one of the early, brass kids who happened to be studying art in San Francisco when publisher Jann Wenner first introduced Rolling Stone magazine. Virtually everyone who fell into that early circle went on to become cultural icons. It was a time and place when publishing that type of magazine was significant.

Liebovitz worked with some of my favorite writers, Tom Wolfe, Hunter S. Thompson, and others. She is known as one of the most famous celebrity profilists of all time, and she's earned it.

Reading the book made me think about how I would portray my own cancer in a photograph. Well my self-portrait attached to this blog is the result.

I know it may seem a little odd. But to me it was the image that portrays my cancer journey best. It is black and white because it is solemn and a little sad and bleak. It is an exhausting journey that leaves you worn out and draped over an over-stuffed leather chair. And it is a journey that leaves you torn, like most of my Levi's. But at the same time there is a peace to it, a contentment and resolve that takes over and leads the way.

Photographs, to me, should always be a little more than smile and look at the camera.

The Amish hate photographs because they believe they capture their souls.

For me, one of the most challenging aspects of living with cancer has been the unpredictability. I'm pretty famous for never changing. I was the same when I was five-years-old as I was when I was 15, 28, or 39. My hair never changed. My physique never changed. My attitude never changed. I could always depend upon steadiness in myself, my mind and my body.

Cancer did change all of that, and specifically chemotherapy changes all of that, not to mention all the other complimentary drugs.

So far I've gone through three different chemo drugs and each one changes my body in its own distinct and unique ways. Some let me gain weight. Some make me lose weight. I have three piles of jeans: sizes 34; 36; and 38, depending on what pills I'm on.

One chemo drug made my hair grow, and it made it grow thick and dark and black. Another chemo drug made me lose some hair and turned whatever was left into light blonde locks.

The chemo drugs are all slightly different in their chemical make-ups and how they seek out and attack cancer cells. But they all do seek out fast dividing cells throughout the body and try to cut-off blood supplies to those cells. Of course not all fast dividing cells are cancer cells, so there are some innocent parts of the body that get attacked along the way. Even knowing what part of the body the chemo is attacking from day-to-day is an unpredictable mystery to wake up to each morning.

So that's why I took a self-portrait like I did, the contentment with unpredictability, the acceptance of unknown, living with cancer.

How'd I do?