It’s always so shocking to see a progression of photos showing how the job of U.S. president ages a man. Going through a multitude of photos of Mark in preparing for his memorial service, it was clear how the awful progression of disease and treatments worked him over.
Tonight, sorting and organizing some downloaded photos, I see how my time as caretaker has aged me. I feel it in my bones, in my joints and muscles, it shows in the texture and color of my hair, and most definitely on my face.
September 2010: self-portrait at work, three months before Mark’s diagnosis. It was a beautiful rainy fall day. I’d recently turned 48 years old.
December 2011: self-portrait at home. Juggling caretaking, motherhood, and work/home duties. Mark had been through two rounds of chemo & radiation, two surgeries, multiple ER admits and hospitalizations. In less than a month, he’d be in radiation treatments for the third time.
March 2012. In Mark’s hospital room, about a week before he died.
April 2012: Self-portrait, three weeks after Mark’s death. A test-run at returning to work: am I ready for this?