Fiddling

I have spent the better part of this afternoon, fiddling and tinkering with templates and blog colours. I confess, due to busyness of other illustration work and general life duties, it has been awhile since I even glanced at this lonesome blog.


So now I am extending a 'welcome back' to you faithful holder-on-ers, and also to you new readers. Once again, I am gathering my thoughts, dusting off my 'How I Contracted Hep C and Other Bedtime Stories' illustrations, striking the usual bent-over-the-drawing-board pose, and getting back at it. 


Why now you ask?


Good question. 


As I mentioned way back in Tuesday, November 3, 2009 post, that if I could, I would find a cure for the Hep C virus.


As it stands my Creator did not endow me with (really any) scientific leanings, but he did give me some artistic skills. Having taken a rather lengthy break from doing anything remotely related to this endeavor of mine, I am now ready to jump back in.  I am excited to see how all these pieces of the graphic novel storytelling will fit together. It feels like the time is right. 


As before, I invite you along as I struggle through attempt to tell the story of ‘How I Contracted Hep C and Other Bedtime Stories’.


More entries to come soon! 

Winnipeg

When I jumped in my barely-functioning car and made the 25+ hour drive to Winnipeg approximately eight years ago, (alone save for a mannequin's head in the passenger seat next to me), I never expected that I would stay here for so long. Much to my surprise, however, seven years ago I met and eventually married a Winnipeg man who, like many born and bred Manitobans, stubbornly loves his province.

While there are people and cultural aspects of B.C that I still miss, Winnipeg, like the slow drip-drip-drip of her much anticipated spring, has grown on me: the roads pock-marked with pot-holes, the endless summer construction that seems conveniently designed to block any traffic from leaving the city, the neon-green worms that greet my hair as I brush past any tree, and likewise, the mosquitoes that arrive every evening now, expecting to be seated on my arm/leg/face/butt and have a meal at my expense. Oh, and Tim Horton's. The morning line-ups of Winnipeggers needing their fix; I am guilty.

One of the chapters in my graphic novel 'How I Contracted Hep C and Other Bedtime Stories' contains this road trip from my home province to the welcoming sign declaring that Winnipeg is truly, 'One Great City'.

Very rough draft of one of these pages. Enjoy!

The Infamous Krever Inquiry Strikes Again

I never thought that I would admit this, but completing the seemingly mudane task of folding the laundry is a welcome relief; while the graphic novel is slowly coming along, it is a ton more work than I ever realized. How does one organize the re-telling and illustrating of whole historical events, nevermind the personal details of each person affected by such events?

I think I was ambitious...(!)

Speaking of ambition (and Hep C), tomorrow is none other than the third annual World Hepatitis Day

This is a chance to raise awareness of Hep B and C, as well as increase political support for the diseases to levels seen in HIV / AIDS,etc. Approximately 170 million people worldwide have either hepatitis B or hepatitis C. This represents 1 in 12 people...people like me. People (maybe) like you...?

A week of Alice

It has been a week of Alice.

The first Alice popped up in our lives when, due to my continued limited mobility issues due to a foot/leg cast, we decided to purchase a netbook. In doing so, I am now free to sit for copious amounts of hours on the sofa, leg propped in the air, AND get some work (o.k, o.k, a lot of email and facebook too) done. It is great!

The reason that my netbook and the topic of Alice go together is that, when asked what the name of my netbook should be (because that is a completely normal question to be asked by one's spouse), the first name that came to mind was 'Alice'. The netbook is red, after all.

So shortly after christening the netbook, I began an impromptu version of the children's song, 'Alice the Camel' (has 5 humps...has 4 humps...etc). To my shock and horror, my spouse (who happens to be in a children's band) did not recognize the song. This was news to me. First, because it is such a good children's song and second, because I, greatly lacking in the musical skills department, so rarely know a song that he does not.

The second instance of Alice is not quite as light-hearted; as I continue to research about the Canadian tainted blood scandal, I am -- again -- stunned at how complex, deep and wrong this scandal was/is.

One American whistle blower who had been working in the Arkansas prison saw evidence of inmates "donating"* blood who had obvious jaundice/liver disease...and when he started documenting/mentioning this, he and his family got death threats, and his clinic 'mysteriously' burned to the ground (and, conveniently, all the documents).

He subsequently wrote a thriller/mystery novel about the tainted blood scandal, but skewed some details to protect himself from liability and --well-- those death threats. He, aware of the seriousness of his exposing such scandal, felt the need to write under a pseudonym.

So my second 'Alice' of the week is: how deep does the rabbit hole go?

*Inmates "donated" blood for $7 a pop.

The Scarlet 'H'

After I found out that I had Hep C, I informed my roomates of this news. I barely knew, at the time, what Hep C was, nevermind being able to explain it to other people. Indeed, at that time in history, not much was known about the virus, at least not publically, anyway.

I have to admit that I felt an increasing isolation from my peer group due to some comments and questions that I encountered, questions like "is it safe to share utensils with you?" I felt like I, much like Nathaniel Hawthorne's main protagonist, had a large, shameful letter 'H' on my chest, for all the world to see.

That utensil question, asked immediately after I had informed my friends of my positive status, may have been a valid question considering not much was known, in the mid-nineties, about how Hep C was spread. It was, however, ill-timed and unsympathetic.

Dentist woes

Well, I finally have a new dentist. It is embarrassing to admit, but not only have I not gone to my dentist for an unreasonably long amount of time, but my new dentist is less than a block from where I live. In fact, I can actually see the dentist sign from my office window as I type this. That is procrastination, my friends!

So why am I writing about the dentist, you ask. Well, the other day, in my failed attempt to get into see a (medical) doctor at the walk-in clinic just up the street, I had to walk past the aforementioned dentist office. I decided, on the spur of the moment, that today would be the day that I would go in there, and book myself a cleaning. So I did just that -- I walked in.

The receptionist was efficient but friendly, and immediately made me an appointment for the first Monday in March. At that point, however, at the time, the inevitable question floated into my head: do I tell her about my Hep C+ status?

This is a dilemma, as too much information at the wrong time can be as damaging as no information. But, recognizing that dentists put themselves at risk by dealing with my teeth/gums/etc I, at some level, prepare myself to possibly be denied services.

Moreso than the possiblity of needing to inform her of my positive status, I was upset at myself for feeling ashamed (about having the virus). Why would I be shamed? I do not know -- I never engaged in any typical activities associated with Hep C transmission that may be frowned upon by the general public; I simply had blood transfusions that had not been checked properly for HCV. That's it. Not my fault.

So, I quietly gave myself a good talking-to, and in the end, I did not devulge my positive status to the receptionist. I left the office, glad for an appointment, and willing to discuss such "issues" with the dentist him or herself.

Look for it!

West Central Streets is a non-profit community newspaper based in the West Central community of Winnipeg, bounded by Portage, Arlington, Notre Dame and Carlton. The purpose of the paper is to give voice to the interests, struggles and achievements of people who live in the community.

As one of those people who choose to live in this particular community, plus being an illustrator who is working on a graphic novel about the tainted blood scandal, I somehow ended up in the latest edition.

So if you live in the West End of Winnipeg, look for my shiny face & accompaning article in your mailbox at the end of the month!