One of my favorite painting is Frida Khol’s broken column seen above. The night the doctors informed me that I needed to have open heart surgery to be implanted with a mechanical heart device, in order to increase my chances of survival, I remember thinking this must be how Frida felt when she created the Broken Column. Sad and defeated by her body; why was this happening? I asked myself, is this reality? I felt like I was witnessing a play by play of a fictional tale. I was numb, I cried for myself I remember thinking to myself you left your house two weeks ago to give birth and here you are on the verge of death being asked to consent to open heart surgery and a mechanical heart. Do I consent to defeat? I did everything right, eat right, exercised, read all the right books, prepared the baby a comfy home; but hear I was on deaths door steps with a 3% heart function and vomiting. So I consented to being the Broken Column, for my baby’s sake.
