The Healing Has Begun

After ten days of considerable discomfort following surgery on both my enlarged prostate and my bladder, the catheter is finally gone and I am beginning to feel better. During the operation, the enlarged portion of my prostate was removed through the urethra, while two large bladder stones were removed through a separate incision in my abdomen. For ten days, until last Friday, a catheter extended from my bladder, through my penis, into a urine collection bag that captured astonishing amounts of water tinged with blood. Thankfully, that chapter is now behind me.

My visit with the doctor was brief but encouraging. He was pleased with my progress, though he gently scolded me for being too active. He was dismayed that I had driven Amy and me to the appointment. Amy doesn't drive in the city, so I took the wheel. I admit it wasn't easy, but I tried to minimize every unnecessary movement.

The truth is, I remain weak and live with a constant low-grade ache. Blood still appears in my urine, and the surgical areas remain tender. But something remarkable has happened: my urinary stream is back to what I remember from earlier in life.

Even more significant, a major pain that had plagued me for many months has completely disappeared.

The doctor told me that this was the most difficult operation he and his team had undertaken in their careers. During the surgery, they discovered pus within my prostate. I had long suspected there was an infection, but I never knew exactly what it was. Looking back, it may explain the chronic pain around my anus and the radiating pain into my penis—both of which have now disappeared.

Now I find myself seeing life with fresh eyes and a grateful heart. I regret that I cannot yet care for my garden as I would like, but tomorrow a laborer will come to help. For now, healing itself is my work.

I am deeply grateful for Amy, for our dear neighbors Mayolo and Marta, and for the wonderful care I received from my doctor and his staff. I could not have asked for kinder companions along this road.

Healing, I am discovering, is not only a matter of the body. It is also an act of trust. And now, at long last, the healing has begun. 

One prayer has been especially meaningful to me during these days:

"Thy name is my healing, O my God, and remembrance of Thee is my remedy. Nearness to Thee is my hope, and love for Thee is my companion. Thy mercy to me is my healing and my succor in both this world and the world to come. Thou, verily, art the All-Bountiful, the All-Knowing, the All-Wise."   —Baha'u'llah

The Quiet Companion

Looking back to the moment of truth in the doctor’s office here in Oaxaca, Mexico, I can only say that the hand of fate was upon me.

The verdict came after a brief examination and a sonogram of my prostate: surgery.

I had resisted that word ever since the problem was first diagnosed nearly eight years ago. The risks seemed too great. If medication could keep me going, then so be it. But time has its own plans. The sonogram revealed something new—two stones in my bladder. The pain and discomfort had become impossible to ignore. It was crunch time.

On a deeper level, I liked the doctor immediately. A urologist in his mid-thirties, he possessed the quiet confidence and reassuring manner I needed. His credentials were excellent, and his referrals glowing. I asked a few more questions, and each answer strengthened my confidence. Before I knew it, a surgery date had been set, and I wired the money from the United States.

There was something else.

As the day of surgery approached and apprehension quietly grew, I experienced something difficult to explain. It was as though a spirit drew near—not with words or visions, but with a calm assurance that settled over me. The fear did not disappear, but it no longer held the upper hand. I accepted that whatever lay ahead, I would not face it alone.

That quiet encounter confirmed what my heart was already telling me: stay grounded in Mexico and trust.

The operation lasted a little over two hours. The enlarged portion of my prostate was removed through the urethra, leaving the outer capsule intact. The two bladder stones were removed through a small incision in my abdomen.

The first night was the hardest. My bladder was continually flushed with saline, and the urine flowing through the catheter was filled with blood. There was pain, discomfort, and very little sleep.

Amy received a surprise of her own. Shortly after the surgery she was informed that she would be staying with me overnight. In Mexico, it is customary for a family member to remain with the patient around the clock. She hadn’t come prepared and endured a restless night in an uncomfortable chair. Yet her presence comforted me, and afterward I could appreciate the wisdom of the tradition. Hospitals can be lonely places. I never felt alone.

Our dear neighbors, Marta and Mayolo, have been with us every step of the journey. They are deeply embedded in the fabric of our lives, offering support and love each step of the way.

Now, four days later, I am slowly recovering. A catheter still protrudes from my body and drains into a bag that must be emptied with surprising frequency. I take my medications faithfully, drink more water than I ever imagined possible, and patiently wait for my body to heal. Blood still mixes with the urine, but each day there is a little less. In another week the catheter will be removed, and, I hope, a new chapter will begin.

I have nothing but praise for the surgical team, the nurses, and the remarkable little boutique hospital where I was treated. With only five patient rooms, it felt less like an institution and more like a place where people genuinely cared.

As I reflect on these past few days, I keep returning to that quiet presence that met me before the operation. Some may call it intuition, others grace, and still others simply the workings of the mind under stress. I only know that it gave me confidence when I needed it most. I have learned over the years to trust such moments. They have appeared before at important crossroads in my life, and once again they carried me safely across.

Healing, I am discovering, is not only a matter of the body. It is also an act of trust.

Let Go and Trust

I feel as though I am a sailor and the wind is filling the sails of my vessel, taking Amy and I toward a future we do not totally understand, but is our destiny. In many ways I acknowledge divine assistance, and let go and trust—giving thanks.

Collector from Scottsdale, Arizona

Since Amy and I decided to move to Mexico, we have announced the closing of The Boone Gallery and begun preparing to leave the USA. Many details are as yet to be concluded, but we are assuming in our near future we will be living in our house in Oaxaca.
People from all over the country have been stepping forward to buy my paintings, especially as I have been offering a one-time discount of about 30%. Collectors have been buying oil paintings before they even dry. One couple from Georgia have bought six and now own nine Boones. Another couple from Texas have bought four, and others from Colorado and Arizona have bought two each. A couple from Albuquerque bought two—and so on.

I wonder at all the activity—and think a combination of factors is at work: The pandemic is making people feel homebound. Perhaps in a moribund environment the chance to enliven their homes is welcoming. A fleeting discount for first quality original oil paintings from an established artist is attractive. October is always a top month for art sales. Who knows if I will be painting the scenes in Mexico?

Collector from Oklahoma City, Oklahoma

Whatever the reasons, it is totally satisfying to be shipping out my paintings. Especially as there is no business on the street coming into the gallery— and everything has to come down from the walls in a couple weeks.

Collector from Dallas, Texas

Meanwhile, Amy has been diligently packing our valuables for the long trip south.

To see available work and make an offer, go to: Steven Boone

Thankful For Confirmation

Recently an art collector called to give her credit card information so that she could finish paying for a painting I made in Venice, Italy. The subject is a lovely stone bridge with decorative iron railing spanning a canal. A restaurant with outdoor tables is in the background. I lived in the neighborhood where I painted it.

When the client bought it from my gallery in Santa Fe, New Mexico, USA, I was in Ecuador making art, photographing and writing. At the time, I remember being thankful for confirmation that I could live the life I love.

While the collector was on the phone with me, she mentioned another painting of Venice she had seen on my website. It is of a gondola passing under a stone bridge. We talked, and now she is buying that as well. Add this to the painting I sold to American collectors who visited my apartment in Venice during my sojourn there and that more than pays for the entire trip.

Today I felt great gratitude knowing that higher powers are in play. I throw myself at the feet of Divine Fate with absolute trust. It is a happy activity. I am very thankful that I live my passion with trust—and see results.

At another moment today I heard myself say, “Thank you Lord for what you give, and thank you for what you take away.”

To see more Boone art click: Steven Boone