Tag Archives for sketch

InkTober 2017: Day 28 – Fall

It’s been said that the closest humans would get to flying as birds do was to be on board a plane – don’t ask me who said that because I’m too lazy to look it up. However, since then, we’ve created countless devices to propel and suspend humans in flight. One of the most exhilarating ways is skydiving. I’ve only done it once, but it was an incredible experience and as soon as my feet landed on solid ground I was ready to get back in the plane, to climb back up to 12,000 feet (3,657.6 meters), and jump again.

A skydiving fall happens in two phases. The first phase happens as soon as you jump out of the plane: It’s a free-fall. It’s fast. It’s an adrenaline rush. The skydiver feels ice-cold air whipping at her/his face. However using one’s body the speed of the fall and the direction in which one turns are controllable. The second phase begins when one pulls the parachute’s ripcord. If my memory serves me correctly, the ripcord must be pulled when one reaches the 7,500 feet (2,286 meters) mark on the altimeter attached to a strap of the parachute pack.

When the skydiver pulls the ripcord, the opening of the parachute causes a hard pull up before a calm fall down starts. This calm part of the descent can also be controlled, but this time it’s through manipulating the parachute. There are cables attached to the parachute that one pulls to move right or left or to slow your fall. I remember that as I floated toward the ground with the wind blowing around me, I felt incredibly free. I could see everything around me, in all directions, for miles, and I wanted to stay up in the sky indefinitely.

When I finally landed, I could barely contain the excitement I felt and nothing could erase the huge grin on my face; and I was ready to do it again. If it weren’t for the fact that I was with a group of friends with whom I had more plans for the rest of that day, I would have jumped on the next flight back up to 12,000 feet. Thankfully, I have photos and a video of that jump to remind me of that day, and who knows that I might not have multiple jumps in my future.

 

InkTober 2017: Day 27 – Climb

Stairs are my nemesis. That was not always the case. I used to bound up a flight of stairs with the energy of a young puppy. Now to climb up, or down, that same flight of stairs can feel like hard work. The pain that accompanied the growth that used to be in my pelvis remains – long after I had surgery to remove it. My doctors call the pain I still feel in my legs “referred pain.” They’ve explained that it happens because of how entwined and sensitive the body’s nervous system is; and how it sends messages to the brain.

Some things that used to be easy for me to tackle before my illness are now monumental tasks. Climbing stairs – up and down – is something that I must do carefully and slowly because if I don’t it causes the pain in my legs and hips to flare up to a level I can’t cope with very well. I’m not sure if this is something that will worsen if my doctors don’t find a treatment to restore my health and reduce – preferably eliminate my pain. However, while I wait, I’ll continue erring on the side of caution and climb stairs cautiously or take elevators where I can.

 

InkTober 2017: Day 26 – Squeak

Yesterday was a tough day. Physically the pain in my pelvis was high, especially in the area where I once had a sizeable growth that was surgically removed about three years ago; because of the pain, my anxiety level was also high and to manage it I had to take medication I hadn’t taken in about a year, to calm myself. The fact that there was so little sunshine didn’t help either. The sun seemed too weak to hold the thick clouds open long enough to shine through; and I missed it.

Since becoming ill, days like this tend to be hard for me. Without sunlight, my mood is usually low. My creative energy tends to get sapped because I need to direct it to do activities that on a good day I could do without much thought or effort. This means that my sketch for yesterday’s prompt isn’t very complex or detailed. My writing segment is also very short; and I’m posting them today.

I don’t take many baths. The idea of filling a tub with enough water to cover my entire body that I could potentially submerge my head under to practice holding my breath seems decadent and wasteful. However, if I did, regularly take baths I would want a rubber duck to keep me company in the tub. Not just an ordinary rubber duck floating around on top of the bathwater, but a bright yellow one that I can squeeze and make squeak. Because in my humble opinion, if a rubber duck can’t squeak it’s not worth having.