Well, after I found the lump in my breast in early November, that all came to a halt. I stopped working out completely. My life became consumed with doctor's appointments while I tried to wait patiently for the results of my biopsies and ultrasounds, and so being conscious of my physical health fell by the wayside. That's the opposite of what I should've done - I should've kept going to the gym and tried to stay active, but my mind was too preoccupied with worry. Everyone I told about the lump tried to console me. They said, "it's probably just a cyst," But when the NP called me in to her office after looking at my ultrasound and recommending a biopsy, I had a gut feeling that it wasn't going to be good. My answer to everyone was "Just because cancer isn't probable, doesn't mean it's not still possible." I appreciated people trying to think positive, but I was being realistic. If I told myself it wasn't cancer, I would've been that much more disappointed when I got the news.
Anyway, that's beside the point of this post. I met with my oncologist in early December, and asked about exercise. He asked about my routine, and felt that it was more than likely I'd be able to continue it while in treatment, and in fact, encouraged it. The goal is to try to live life as normally as possible during treatment, but to also listen to your body. In reality, I probably just made excuses. I know that no one will blame me for taking time off from the gym given all that I've been through over the past few months. And my crazy self also started a new job in mid January, which added not only to my stress, but was time consuming. I know that people say "You have the same 24 hours in a day that everyone else does," but I chose to sleep and try to relax whenever I could between dragging myself to doctor's appointments.
Well, the worst of doctor's appointments are over. December and January were the hardest, and things finally slowed down a little around February. Now that my treatment has become more routine, I'm able to time manage a little bit better. So, I decided to take control. I realized I needed to take my life back from my cancer, and not let my cancer dictate how I live. So, this week, I went to one yoga class, and then lifted weights two other days. The first day I lifted weights, I started to get pissed off because weights that used to be so incredibly easy for me were hard, and I had to adjust. I quickly let that frustration go, and reminded myself to be gentle - my body has been through a lot over the last few months (two biopsies, three surgeries, a round of IVF, and multiple blood draws) and is still healing. The simple fact that I was at the gym was good enough, regardless of how much weight I was lifting. So instead I replaced frustration with pride - I'm in the gym! Working out! My body might be sore as all hell right now, but it's a good feeling. It may take a long time to get back to the weight I was lifting back in November, and to regain my baby abs back, but slow and steady wins the race. The fitness competition may be off the table right now, but it's my plan to revisit that goal in July when my chemo and radiation are over, and hopefully compete sometime next year after treatment is completely done and my chest port comes out.
It's a little weird to be grateful for sore muscles, but right now, I am. It's a reminder of what I'm still capable of. My body might not be what it used to be, but it's still mine, and I'm still proud of what it's capable of. And I'm pretty sure all of the oreos I've been eating have gone straight to my butt, which is not a bad thing...
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