How to grow a monster

“Within Duration” : A group show at Rutherford Galleria, University of Alberta, Edmonton AB Curated by Royden Mills, Selene Huff, Michael Cor and Marilene Oliver.

In the fall of 2021, I began to experience a heavy feeling in my lower abdomen. For several weeks I chalked it up to a new soy creamer and white bread. It eventually became difficult to ignore. When I would lay on my stomach, I was propped up by what felt like a large round ball. When I laid on my back, it was difficult to breathe. My stomach rounded to the left and appeared as though I might be in the early stages of pregnancy. 

On January 4th 2022 (the day before my 32nd birthday), I underwent a major operation to remove a tumor the size of a small watermelon that grew on my left ovary and had damaged my fallopian tube. From November- December, I underwent many tests, scans and visits to the Cross Cancer Clinic. Due to the complicated nature of the tumor and a blood flow to the center of the cyst, there was reason to believe it was cancerous. An oncologist was to perform the operation at the Lois Hole. I gave them permission to do whatever was necessary even if it meant a full hysterectomy. I was completely unsure as to what I would wake up with or without. I was transferred onto a metal table that was so cold and so narrow that my hips and arms hung off the side. My Dr. held my hand as I cried and went to sleep thinking about my children. While I was still “asleep” in the O.R, my Dr. sent a part of the tumor for a frozen section testing and within 15 minutes they had results. They were fairly certain it was not cancerous and that it was a Teratoma. A Teratoma is a type of germ cell tumor that can contain several different types of tissue, such as hair, teeth, muscle, and bone. I woke up post laparotomy with warm sheets folded and stacked on my tummy for pressure, a peak at a foot long stapled incision from just above my belly button, down, one ovary, one fallopian tube and engorged breasts as I was forced to abruptly stop nursing. I waited two weeks for the full pathology but there was reason for optimism. I had given birth just two years before in the unit across the hall. I was in a room with another patient and while I was crying tears of joy and overwhelmed that my results were benign, the patient next to me was told that her cancer had returned. Hospitals have a way of holding life and death together in tension. And beauty and devastation and high highs and low lows and nothing much is in your control.

With my work I am compelled to share about personal experiences, motherhood, grief, fear and loss in hopes that others will feel less alone. 

As I consider the theme of the show, Within Duration,  I immediately start to think about all of the things that keep me going. What matters most to me, both big and small. I feel lucky and so guilty to have a long list- a privilege that is currently being ripped away from SO many.

My late mum taught me mostly everything about yarn and sewing. It brings me great joy to share her skills, story and legacy with the people around me. The act of making, especially repetitive textile work, is comforting, regenerative, cathartic and makes me feel loved by her again.

Thanks to everyone out there who makes me feel less alone <3

This series of work is supported by the Edmonton Arts Council- Research Grant