“The Hidden Patient”
Autumn Thompson
Edgewater, MD
Caregiver
Twist on cancer: Brain cancer changes everything for the one diagnosed and their support system. As my mom’s caregiver, that has meant becoming a secondary/invisible patient of sorts. With the way brain cancer changes the whole person, you become the medical advocate, nurse, medication distributor, wound cleaner, social worker, driver, translator, cook, cleaner, researcher, guide, pet-carer, reader and writer, activity leader, the punching bag, the cheerleader, and so much more. It’s a 24/7 job that I couldn’t have foreseen having to do in my 20s, let alone ever, and it has come with profound pain and loss, and through that – transformation. 1 year ago, I said an unknown goodbye to the mom and the life I knew and had no choice but to walk onward and exist in the fog, where I can’t see too far behind or ahead, where I know danger is lurking, and yet all I have to hold onto is my sense of love and loyalty to the person who raised me, prayer, an inextinguishable sliver of hope, and the humanity of my deeply grieving heart. I have had to pick myself up from the lowest of lows over and over again, having to become my own friend and family while I have been going at this mostly alone. I have had to carve out small moments of respite to give me enough strength to keep going in the ways I know my mom, before brain cancer, would have encouraged me to do so. Throughout everything, I have found self-empowerment, self-preservation, and unconditional love both for myself and for all the versions of her. And I’ll keep at it the best that I can with all I’ve got.
Denise Fike
Philadelphia, PA
Social Media: @Denisefikedesigns
“The Hidden Patient”
12” x 24”
Oil paint
$800
Artist Statement: What brought me to Brushes with Cancer was my experience caring for my beloved husband for 6 years with a rare form of cancer.
He was brilliant, loving, kind, and joyful, and his love for his family had no bounds. We were married for 53 years.
We had horror, and joyful bits of remission, and we both felt that our love was growing even more through our ordeal. I never left his side, even sleeping in his hospital bed with him. I knew his body so well that I was able to have physicians and nurses aware of every nuance that needed their immediate attention.
I thought that we would go on, yet he died 1.5 years ago.
I am still quite devastated.
I am paired with an extraordinary, beautiful, caring, lovely young woman.
Her mother has an aggressive form of cancer diagnosed in November, and after surgeries and treatment, she is now in hospice care.
Autumn left her home in San Francisco and came to her mother’s side in Baltimore. She cares for her mom and endures the heartbreak every second.
When we first spoke, she called herself “the hidden patient.”
How powerful that sentiment.
That was my inspiration for the painting.
I asked her to send photos of herself and asked her favorite flower, which was sunflowers. I drew her enclosed, entwined, and partially hidden by sunflowers, living and dead.
She loves the image.
I can’t wait to meet her and see her reaction to the art.