Bird and branch. October, 2008(Excerpts taken from my journal in 2008-2009, when I was ill with Conn's Syndrome)
It's fall and I am sicker now. I have had this disease for too long. The fatigue bothers me the most, I feel like the blood was sucked out of me from head to toe. It even hurts to move too much now. In the mornings, I can barely get out of bed-- I keep re-setting the alarm on my cell for an extra five, then ten, and eventually 30 minutes. This has become my routine. In the afternoons, I tell my employees its another phone consultation when really I lie down for a half hour nap. I feel restless and fidgety by nightfall, knowing it's my heart that keeps me stuck in this restless cycle. Arrhythmia and tachycardia— that’s what the doctors call it. My patient translation is called panic. I am back in my prison after another unfulfilled day of work detail. Back in my small room where no one can see the truth. I wait for a wave of calmness to cover my restlessness, but it will only arrive through a psychedelic trip from a little half tablet called Ambien.
Everyday it's the same... and the tape plays back in my head asking will I ever feel normal again?
Fire pit in fall. September, 2008Having a rare adrenal tumor has changed everything. It has been inside me for at least eight years, they tell me. Not only has it robbed me of my energy, it gives me high blood pressure, upsets my electrolyte balance, gives me migraines, interrupts my hormonal cycle, makes my hands and feet fall asleep and swell up and depletes my body of potassium. This insidious disease has now made me afraid to leave my own house for fear of falling asleep where ever I go. More and more, I spend time in my bedroom writing, dreaming and praying it will be over soon. They keep telling me I need to take more tests--it's causing me to fall deeper into depression; I can't even design, which has been my creative savior for as long as I can remember. Last week, I spotted my old camera sitting on top of a pile of unread Conde Nast Traveler magazines. Maybe I found my escape?
Milkweed. September, 2008I started to take pictures of what I saw outside my bedroom window last Friday. It is fall, and things are starting to expire. But from where I stood, they look more alive than ever. Sometimes there is a frenetic energy outside, like the cackling black birds that congregate on my neighbor's dying elm.
Birds. September, 2008(December, 2008)
It got really quiet late this afternoon. The sky is pink tonight... I can smell snow in the air. Today I took some pictures of my garden. The snow covered my lady faces urn and bird bath. Everything was perfectly still.
Sunset. November, 2009(December, 2008)
It doesn't matter if it's raining or the sun is out, there is so much beauty outside. Today I forgot for a little while how sick I was. I can't wait until my surgery. Thank God I have my camera.
Telephone lines. November, 2009(January 5, 2010)~
It's a year later and I'm still taking as many pictures I can from my bedroom window before I move. Only now I am free from my pain. The tumor and gland is gone, but the beauty remains day or nite in every season.
Cat grave marker. November, 2008
Icicles. December, 2009 
Planter in snow. December, 2009
Fire pit in blizzard. December 2009All photos by Flower Spy
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