Carol Larson - textile artist

Twenty years ago when a friend was suddenly killed in a car accident, a colleague of my then-employer said quite simply…life hangs by a thread. At that exact moment I was both stunned and comforted by that simple sentence. And fortunately or not I have not thought of it much since then. I have lost other friends, all to cancer where the thread is long while unraveling.

Until this week…I was reminded that life hangs by a thread when my husband was re-admitted to the hospital hemorrhaging from the medication given to him last week to manage the emboli. I was reminded when instead of being the regular blood donor he was the recipient of four pints. I was reminded when the ER doc said I better call my daughter. I was reminded when he was moved to the trauma unit. I was reminded when he was moved to ICU and I have been reminded every long hour of these 3 days .

Synchronistically I had mailed postcards of the exhibits where my work is to be seen this summer/fall. So many wondered how I found time. A recuperating husband (pre-hemorrhage) is a great label sticker. It was all about timing.

So I was surprised more than anything when the egos of artists began to surface as a result of my mailing. Here I am in the life hangs by a thread moment and am being bombarded with ‘poor me’ messages from art peers. If ever there was such a clear delineation between yin and yang, ego and spirit I don’t know what it is.

He just called and he is being released this morning. As I hit the freeway one more time I hope to integrate into my daily gratitude the wisdom of life hangs by a thread . As I sit currently with a foot in both worlds I get it.

My art is my passion and gives my life meaning. The ego of art is a waste of our precious time and valuable energy.

Life happens when we are making other plans…being a semi-grounded person most of the time I am frequently reminded of this expression in my own life and in witnessing others. Three days ago I got a huge reminder when my husband was admitted to the hospital with a pulmonary embolism. While I generally refrain from blogging about kin, I make exception now as I realize his life happenings greatly affect mine. Try as I might it appears quite likely that once I recover emotionally and physically from his life happening I will still be involved in the short tether from which he will now live.

He has been both blessed with a lifetime of good health and cursed with a consistent lack of healthy living. Now his hand has been forced and he must comply to rules made by others for his body to highly function. Early on I was angry as he had fallen off his bicycle, bruising his ribs and did nothing about it. I voiced my protest by announcing I would not be the enforcer.

Now reality has set in and I realize as long as we share a name and cohabitate I share a responsibility in this too. It is not a matter of refusing to monitor his condition but rather one of teamwork to make sure we keep him in the best shape possible.

As one who has lived with chronic pain as long as I can remember it is eye-opening and sad to witness one who has been blessed with good health struggle with the short leash he is now on. Eventually he will adjust and we both will go back to making other plans. Who knows…maybe there is an art piece in this?