Yoga

Yesterday was a pretty cancer focused day. I try to avoid those as much as possible, since my infusion days are completely focused on cancer, and it's a topic that's never far from my mind for obvious reasons, but alas, some days it's more present than others.

A few weeks ago, a friend of mine shared with me that her yoga studio hosts various classes that are specifically for cancer patients (http://yogasourcelosgatos2.reachlocal.net/cancer-care-program). Since the beginning of treatment, I've been told to stay active because it'll make me feel better. To be honest, I've had a really hard time with that, as I've mentioned before. Between the doctor's appointments, the side effects, and the depression and anxiety, working out became less and less of a priority, even though I know I should've at least made the attempt to stick with it for some normalcy. I have no one to blame but myself for not going. But even then, I'm not going to let myself feel guilty about it, either. I did what I felt I needed to do, and most of the time that was (and still is) to cry and to sleep as much as possible. Two weeks ago, I finally managed to drag myself to a yoga class at my gym. They're honestly not the best classes out there, but it's close by and it works. Since then I've also lifted weights three times, and have gone on a hike. It's not much, but it's a start. One of the days I was lifting weights, I had to go into a bathroom stall to cry. I was so angry that I couldn't lift the same amount of weight that was so easy for me 6 months ago. I felt fat, flabby, and weak. I texted a few people telling them of my frustration, and I got a lot of encouragement in return. I don't remember his exact verbiage, but my friend Jeff gently reminded me that of course I couldn't lift the same weight - it had been 6 months since I'd made any effort. He also told me that he was proud of me for even going to the gym, and that I needed to stop playing the victim. Cancer can only take things away from me if I let it. My other friend Nathalie reminded me that the goal, no matter what stage of fitness a person might be in, is to strive for progress, not perfection. It's hard for me to remember that because I'm starting a few steps backwards of where I once was. My friend Mike also reminded me that I got strong and developed muscle relatively fast last summer, and that was even with working out inconsistently.

So, I'm now doing what's within my power to try to take my life back. To get a small portion of my former self back. And that includes exercise. I didn't wake up yesterday with the plan to go to this yoga studio. Honestly, I wasn't sure I'd ever make it since it's in Los Gatos. I know that's not THAT far away from Hayward (it was about a 45 minute drive), but I haven't energy to do much. I just randomly decided to look up the schedule of classes yesterday and saw that there was a 2pm class for "gentle yoga and meditation," so I decided to put on some (pink!) yoga pants and go. On the way there, I started to have doubts about going. I shared those doubts with Alicia, and she told me she was proud of me for going. It was also the fact that I read their cancellation policy and didn't want to feel like an asshole for not showing up that kept me driving to the class. I'm really happy I went. It was nice to have a safe place to practice yoga, to talk a little about cancer and how it affects the body and also the practice, and to also not give two shits that Penny (my port), along with a few scars, were visible. The teacher came up to me and introduced herself since she saw that I was new, and then told me about what the class would involve - gentle, slow movements at your own pace, with a really deep concentration on quieting the mind and focusing on deep belly breathing. My biggest struggle with yoga is those last two - my mind is always racing, and I always lose track of my breathing with because I get too focused on the movements, rather than using my breathing to guide the movements. So I really tried my best to focus on my deep belly breathing and timing them with the transition of poses. And in doing that, I cleared my mind and focused solely on the practice. There was a CD of rainforest noises playing, and during all of the meditation poses, I kept thinking about sloths. Many people know that I have a stuffed animal sloth named George that I've had since about second or third grade that my dad got me from the Natural History Museum (now the Academy of Sciences). He sits happily on top of one my nightstands dressed in a lobster t-shirt from Maine. For whatever reason, the music reminded me of sloths, and George, and I suddenly decided that the celebratory vacation I go on next year when my treatment is over will have to include holding a sloth. Other than thinking of sloths, I was able to clear my mind for the majority of the class. It wasn't until the end of class when we were in Savasana that I started to think about my cancer and cry. I was mostly thinking about my recent lab work and my elevated liver enzymes and how the doctor told me, yet again, that it's just one of those things that there's nothing they can do about and that we'll just have to monitor it for the next few treatments. I'm mostly just frustrated from continuing to hear that phrase - "there's nothing we can do about it." I let a few tears roll, and then brushed the frustration away, bringing myself back to the thought of holding a baby sloth in the middle of the rainforest. (A very quick google search after class has taught me that most sloth sanctuaries won't let you touch, pet, or cuddle the sloths, so that sucks. But I'm determined, so I'll keep looking). Class came to an end, and the teacher came up to me telling me that I did a great job and seem to be doing well. For the most part, I'm fairly flexible, but I have a lot of tension in my legs, which is the main reason I started going to yoga. I'm also assuming that because I still have most of my hair thanks to cold capping, I don't look like I'm in the middle of chemo, which is probably why she said I look like I'm doing well. I appreciated her encouragement, nonetheless.


I also attended a "Look Good Feel Better" class last night, but I'll post on that later. I only slept 3 hours last night, and the sleeping pill I took at 5:15am is finally hitting me.  They really weren't kidding when they said the side effects are cumulative. It's taking me longer to recover from my infusion than it has in the past. Which means I'm not looking forward to the insomnia and fatigue that infusions 5 & 6 will bring.