So much has happened in the past year. I started this newsletter in March 2023, shortly after we moved into the Chapel House and after a short period of homelessness. Our previous landlord had rented us a place that was, in the words of the Fire Marshall “unfit for human habitation” which sounds super serious, but in a country like England it just means he cut too many corners when it came to fire safety. We needed a second entrance (we lived in a flat above an off license shop for the first three years we lived in England) as well as a hardwired fire detection and sprinkler system, fire doors and a myriad of other things. The total bill to bring the flat up to code was to be around £60,000. My landlord opted instead to bet that if he refused to provide alternative accommodations and wait us out we would have to leave the country and wouldn’t be able to sue him for damages, being foreigners on a visa and not having family or close friends around to rely on leaves you open to these types of people.
Thankfully I’m American and suing people who annoy me by being bullies and cost me tens of thousands of dollars with their shenanigans is apparently in my blood. Ultimately, we did not leave - well, at least not permanently. We moved into a hotel for about six weeks and I relied on good old American style debt (credit cards with 0% interest rates and some with cash back offers thankfully) to pay our hotel bills until we found a new place. After about six weeks we found a new home but I also found myself in a pile of debt. So I got to work.
This past year has been the most trying year of my adult life. Not since aging out of foster care in 2002 have I felt so unstable and so vulnerable. I worked incredibly hard. I flew to Mexico to do an ancestral clay workshop (which steadied me in ways that are hard to verbally express) and I took on a remote job that averaged 40-60 hours a week I did that job for April, May, June & July of 2023 until I’d earned enough money to pay all of the credit card debt off.
I also went back and forth with my previous landlord for eight months, enduring ridiculously low offers in mediations, before finally going before a judge who ruled that we should be reimbursed for our hotel expenses, moving expenses, as well as several months of excess rent (our old place was £850 a month and our new place was £1,600 a month) as well as an extra £1,000 for “stress & inconvenience” which I gather is the English judiciary’s way of saying my landlord didn’t play very nice and that I deserved a bit extra to acknowledge the tomfoolery. My previous landlord asked to make payments and, although I was initially disinclined to agree, after a short discussion with the judge I said okay. I received 1/3 of the judgement in September, 1/3 in October and the final 1/3 in November.
In September of 2023 I started a PhD in History of Art at the University of Bristol. Six months in and I still love it.
In the meantime a war started in Israel after the horrific attacks by Hamas on October 7th. I got a firsthand look at what it feels like to face both anti-blackness and antisemitism. I leaned into my Jewish community and pulled back from other social spaces. I realized that a friend who was only “on your side” because it was trendy to be “anti-racist” but so easily believed that “the Jews in Israel are harvesting Palestinian skin” was a very dangerous kind of friend to have. Worse than fair-weather, they were people who could be convinced of illogical and unbelievable atrocities simply because the allegations were being leveled against Jews. I bowed out of those relationships and I’m much happier for doing so.
In October of 2023 I also got (re)married. After four years of intentionally withdrawing myself from the relational marketplace, I decided that I didn’t want to head into my forties as a single woman. So I committed. It has so far been one of the best decisions of my adult life. I won’t say much here, to respect my partner’s privacy, but I feel incredibly fortunate to have found someone who is willing to do life with me in the most authentic, committed, supportive and vulnerable ways possible.
In November of 2023 I participated in a group art show about migration and home, my first ever show in London.
In December 2023 my spouse received his visa approval and joined me in England.
In January 2024 I saw a doctor.
After four months of extreme fatigue and unexpected weight loss (around 8kg total) as well as several calls to my GP I was finally given an in-person appointment. I’d assumed the GP was right in telling me I had long COVID, my symptoms started with three days of fever and chills accompanied by a swollen lump the size of a golf ball on the right side of my neck just under my chin. It was suggested that the lump was a swollen lymph node that was struggling to fight off the COVID virus. I thought this sounded plausible so I waited. Finally, at the end of January I called and was given an appointment for that afternoon. I went in to see a doctor who touched the lump on my neck and immediately referred me to the hospital for an ultrasound writing on the paperwork “risk of head and neck cancer.”
When I saw the ultrasound technician I knew the moment they found it by the look on their face, also their hands started shaking and I could feel the vibrations through the ultrasound probe. Another, older technician, walked over and I realized the first technician must be a trainee. He immediately looked at the screen then looked at the other technician then at me. He was the one to give me the news. My symptoms were not in fact long COVID but a rare tumor. He asked if he could perform a FNA biopsy and I agreed. He took his sample and told me to come back at 2 pm and the surgeon would explain the results to me.
I rode the bus back and forth until 2 pm when I returned to the hospital to find out what would happen next.
February arrived and I waited for an MRI. Because of the location of the tumor the surgeon needed a better image to map about the nearby nerves. The biggest risk with this surgery is paralysis she’d explained.
My first MRI was rescheduled because I found myself pregnant and I was told that I needed to wait until the second trimester. I didn’t make it to the second trimester and we lost our baby a few weeks ago. I returned to the hospital for an MRI and waited for the surgeon to again tell me what will happen next.
Last week I learned that the tumor is in a relatively good spot for removal. I’ll have the surgery through the NHS so, although I’m not going on a waiting list because of the nature of the tumor, I will need to wait 4-6 weeks for surgery because the capacity to schedule it sooner just isn’t there. A humbling reminder that I am not the only one. There are people all over this country waiting for treatment and we all must wait in queue together.
In the meantime I am moving again. I’ll still be in Bath, but I’m moving to a home with a private garden that I can putter around in. I plan to grow vegetables, allotment style in the back and roses, cottage style in the front.
I’m still plugging along on my PhD and I’ve recently felt enough energy to resume my clay practice so hopefully I’ll be back in the studio soon.
I know this is quite a different style post than my usual but I’m no longer using social media regularly (if we were previously instagram friends please know I’ve archived my entire personal account and I’ve permanently deleted Twitter) so for those who want to know this is the most feasible space in which to share.
Until next time.
Warm wishes,
Ani
PS: Some new decal work for a portrait porcelain plate project I hope to complete this year.
Thank you for posting this. The path to a diagnosis is a scary one. I went through a lot of ups and downs starting last fall while tracking down cancer-adjacent symptoms, and now have a diagnosis and a lifelong prescription to a blood-altering medication. I am glad you are living in a place with gardens and hopefully with clay. Imagining a life cut short by disease made it hard for me to consider what to do with clay, but my hands want to be in the stuff anyway. I hope you are well.