Today I went to the doctor (MY doctor) in Arizona. It was a follow-up appt., to make sure that I was healing after an event that sent me to a strange ER while traveling in California. I am of a certain age, that is to say, I get senior citizen discounts at movies and stores now. I don't particularly feel old, I feel sort of special and fortunate to have made it this far in life. But here's the thing: I DO remember a time when certain things were different. For example, I remember when I had a family doctor, and she KNEW me. I mean really knew me, and my husband, and my children. Even her nurse knew me. Oh, and the receptionist knew me. Well those people retired, and now I have people who almost never look at me. When they are in the exam room with me, they enter data ABOUT me into a computer. And to find out what is wrong with me, they don't ask me, or look at me, they read off a computer and mumble the particulars of "my situation" to themselves. As I wait, I keep thinking, "I could TELL you that stuff". But maybe they are afraid that I will ramble, and be inefficient or I won't tell them accurate information about myself. Or maybe...I am being abused at home (I am NOT) and that would open a whole can of worms and take too much time...so best to stick with the computer, and not spend time either talking to me or looking at me. I just think that the most important part of what we now call "Health Care" is the 'care' part. And I do not feel 'cared' for when I am not seen, nor heard.
So this image is an interior that I painted. It is a 6" x6", oil on board. I am in a getting acquainted stage with my house and the various rooms in it. I am noticing how the light spills into different rooms throughout the day...the kitchen, dining room and my studio in the morning...the bedroom, bathroom, and living room in the afternoon. I am painting the afternoon sunlight that pours into the living room over and over. This is the first time that I painted it, and I am noticing more and more as I continue to look and paint. What if I just measured the rooms and thought that I knew them. What if I told you how many inches each of my children were, and then assumed that I had given you a full picture of them. It sounds silly doesn't it.
