If You Need A River, I Can Cry You One!

Vegetables. Almost as cheery looking as flowers! And better for me nutritionally, if not psychologically.

What a day it's been already! Yikes! I'm exhausted. Time for true confessions.

Last night was just great. I didn't crash as anticipated in the afternoon. I washed and prepped a bunch of vegetables so they'd be ready for use. I made a nice salad and Kevin made pasta and sauce. We watched the hockey game and my heart sank for the Canadian team but, still, we shared the joy with the winning American team. Both teams gave us two very entertaining games of hockey. The win could have gone either way. They're all winners even if only one team has the gold. I then still had energy and was able to pack away a lot of Christmas decorations.

This morning I was excited about going to my first yoga class. Much to my annoyance, I started crying pretty much as soon as I said "hi" to my yoga instructor. There was no reason for me to be crying. I wasn't afraid. I wasn't in pain. I wasn't feeling emotionally weak ... well, not until after I started crying that is. And then I cried through most of the whole class. I can't even explain it and that's the other annoying part. I pride myself on honest self analysis and I can almost always make sense of the hows and whys of what I do and how I respond to things and am able to align my behaviour with my principles. But this crying business of mine since I was diagnosed, I can't explain except to pass it off as simple release of tension ... tension I don't even know is there. It's embarrassing and makes me nervous about going into new situations, even though I wasn't nervous about this yoga class because I was feeling so confident and thrilled about finally feeling able to start moving forward.

The yoga instructor was lovely! She was so conscientious and always provided me with alternative movements and frequently asked about my energy and comfort levels. It's a small class and the environment at Oshun House is very intimate and peaceful. I believe, in fact, that the yoga studio used to be a chapel. The acoustics are wonderful and our instructor has such a beautiful singing voice ... it was positively haunting (in a perfectly wonderful way) in that room. I would go again if only to lay on the floor with my eyes closed and hear her sing, which is what she does at the end of the class while we're breathing and letting our bodies turn to jello.

The yoga itself ... even more challenging for me than I had anticipated. I couldn't even sit properly. Getting down on the floor is even hard. Between lost strength and the stiffness in my joints, tendons and muscles, I pretty much have to fall part of the way to the floor to get there. I do the same thing in the tub. And then getting up is another matter. have to turn onto my hands and knees and rise from there. It's not pretty. And certainly not graceful. I really felt my limitations in the class but that was balanced by it being such a small group and by the instructor being so gentle and considerate. And there I am, tears streaming down my face and pooling in my ears. Such an idiot I feel. But I'm going back. I signed up for at least 4 classes. I need to give it an honest try. And even if I don't get any better at it within the next two weeks, it still can only be good for me. Hopefully the crying part is done. I've found that during this ordeal, I typically cry at my first experience with anything ... my first blood tests ... my first meeting with the oncologist and radiation oncologist ... my first chemo and radiation treatments ... and so forth. It's something I really wish I could control because it ALWAYS makes me feel ridiculous and it gives the wrong impression. I'm really not that fragile. It's the crying that makes me FEEL fragile. NATCH!!

On the way home I picked up a leisure guide at the field house and will peruse that this afternoon. I also stopped at Winners to calm myself ... hahaha. I bought some canisters for my tea.

As soon as I got home, the phone rang and it was someone from the Champion Centre just following up with me to see how I'm doing. I was surprised and very pleased to have a follow up call. That means a lot, especially after worrying about falling between the cracks now that I don't have an assigned oncologist. The person who called asked about my skin and my energy level and asked if I'd thought about returning to work. It was good to have that conversation with a medical professional because nobody has talked with me about that yet and I am uncertain about when will be the right time. I'm eager to get back to normal but I don't want to have any setbacks either. She told me that typically people who have been through what I have go back to work 6 to 8 weeks after finishing radiation. I had hoped to start earlier and I still might because, of course, it really depends on so many variables. I hope to feel energetic enough to start even on some graduated schedule before that. For me, the biggest factor in determining when I can go back to work is the state of my joints. If they start improving by the middle of January, as I've been told they should, I'll feel more optimistic. Of course, I also have to be able to stay awake. I was told it might be 3 or 4 months for me to be able to get through the days without feeling too exhausted.

Patience, Heather. Patience. Cancer isn't for everyone!

And now I'm home ... in the security of my bubble ... having a healthy lunch and listening to soothing music - Hannah gave me 3 new music cds for Christmas and I'm acquainting myself with them. It's been a draining day so far. Need music.