What I learned at my yoga retreat

I went on my yoga retreat for many reasons.  I have always wanted to go on a yoga retreat.  I had three days of holiday time that I still needed to take (or lose) before March 31st.  I had already taken the March Break off to spend with my kids, and Jaime couldn`t take any holidays.  And I didn`t want to just take the time off to do nothing (though I would have, rather than lose it).

Then I saw this yoga retreat - March 25 to 27th - perfect!  I was so excited, just like when I would sign up for interesting courses in school and university.  My excitement was only dampened by two things.  One, that I would be leaving my family and going alone, and, two, that it was the week before my ultrasound and therefore I would have this worry looming over me.  I would have much preferred to go afterwards, hopefully worry-free.  However, as Jaime says, my life can`t be perpetually on hold as I wait for tests and appointments and results.  Not ideal, but I had paid for it and it was non-refundable, so off I went.

Now I know that this retreat was good to go on before my test.  It has filled me with a sense of peace and strength that I haven`t felt for a long time, and that I will need this week.  Right now, I am not scared.  I don`t know what will come of the week, though I believe it will be fine.  I acknowledge that I can`t know what the result will be and that there is a possibility that it won`t be good, but I believe that I will be fine.  I am not even thinking about it, because I am enjoying today.  Today.  Sunday.  A restful day with not much that I have to do.

Despite falling off my bed (and the subsequent back pain that I now have and which I hope will disappear soon, because I want to do yoga and swim again and the next session of my dance class starts this week!), the retreat was very good for me from a spiritual and physical perspective.  Waking up early, going for silent walks, yoga morning and evening, meditation, and good food were all very good for me.  Even getting to know, in a very short period of time, a group of people that I really had nothing in common with (except a love of yoga) and forming a connection with them is good for the soul. 

My yoga teacher was amazing and very inspiring for me.  She was beautiful, vibrant, healthy and young.  Yet she had just finished radiation treatment for cancer.  It was her first day back at work.  And I never would have guessed!  She was so full of positive energy!  She had a sense of peace, despite what she had been through, that I certainly did not have the first day I went back to work, when I could barely talk to anyone, and I still barely have. 

Beyond the physical aspect of yoga, I have always found peace and inspiration in the spiritual aspect of it.  Even without any formal meditation, my yoga teachers have always offered some meditative component, talking us through the breathing and the postures, trying to keep our mind grounded and present.  The best yoga teachers also infuse humour into it. In my experience, it is better therapy than anything a psychologist could offer me.

What did I learn from this yoga teacher and retreat?  I learned that I can breathe positive energy into my body and soul and that I can imagine myself at my destination, even when I am not quite there yet.  For example, in our mediation sessions, my yoga teacher said to pick a word (e.g. love or calmness) and breathe it into our bodies.  She said to pick a goal (such as to be healthy or strong or courageous) and tell ourselves that we are.

So I am going to give myself these gifts, as I travel through this week ahead.

I am healthy.

I am strong.

I am courageous.

I am calm.

I am. 

I am not a princess

At St. Anne's Spa, I clearly failed the true princess test. I was given a pretty room with a four poster bed to sleep in. Like a princess bed, it was really high off the ground and there was a step ladder to get on and off of it.

After two days of yoga and massage and meditating and steams and hot tubs and  meal after lovely meal of vegetarian dishes, I was starting to feel very zen and healthy.

On the third morning, I was excited to go on our 7:00 silent, meditative walk and then to yoga class. I had set the alarm clock, all the way on the other side of the room, for 6:30. I had also set my phone for 6:30 in case I hadn't set the clock correctly. At 6:30, both alarms went off. I tried to hop out of bed to turn off the alarm clock and, in my disorientated state and the darkness of the room, I miscalculated the distance from the bed to the floor. With a thud, I fell to the floor on my back.  

This, as you can imagine, is not good for someone with osteoporosis. I felt slightly nauseous, like the time when I broke my wrist. I could barely get myself off the floor. I wanted to crawl back into bed, except I didn't want to climb back up on to that really high bed. So I did the only other option available to me. I got ready for the walk.

It may not have been the best idea but I wanted to test whether I could walk or if my back or hip had broken. I sobbed out my pitiful tale to my yoga teacher and fellow yogis. The other ladies, who were mostly all 10-15 years older than me and had been mothering me all cooed their sympathies and mothered me even more. My yoga teacher gave us a very gentle "So you fell out of your high princess bed and landed on your back" yoga class, saying that she had had a teacher who would say that "motion is lotion".

The yoga class had helped a little bit.  The rest of the day, I stayed in the eucalyptus steam room and soaked in the outdoor hot tub.  I even got brave enough to go into the cold water plunge tub.  This all helped.

Back in Ottawa, sitting at work all day and then walking home in the pouring cold rain did not help very much.  So here I am, back from my yoga retreat, needing a massage.

Yoga Retreat

On my way by train to a yoga retreat, something I have ways wanted to do. I was very sad to leave my family behind, though. After the hospital, I had never wanted to leave them even for a moment, ever again. Nevertheless, here I am and I must enjoy it. I will try to tweat about it. Follow my adventure on twitter.

Rated PG

Last night, I looked at the cover of a book.  On the cover, there was a framed photograph of a young man, a violin, and a stack of letters.  I looked at it for a long time, even though it was very familiar to me.  That book cover had been etched into my mind since I was a teen.

The book was called Rated PG by Virginia Euyer Woolf (not to be confused with Virginia Woolf) and it was a book that I had read when I was, maybe, fourteen, fifteen.  It was the story of a young girl's first love.  Bitsy meets an older guy (Hayes) and they have a sweet, summer romance, and then they part ways.  But the two write to each other, for years and years and years (real letters - e-mail had not yet been invented).  And the book follows the life of Bitsy as she finishes high school and then goes on to university (Smith College).  Finally, Bitsy realizes that it is time to marry Hayes, but it is too late.

The book is a girl's version of the Catcher in the Rye.  I read it over and over again.  It was a library book that I borrowed from the Sydney Public Library.  Even when I left home to go to university, I would borrow it whenever I returned home.  I don't know what it was about this book that I was taken by so much.  Of course, I was prone to those kind of girlish romances.  I think her academic life also appealed to me - especially the setting of Smith College since I had lived near Smith College in Northampton, Massachusetts for a year.  Finally, I think it was the letter writing, since I was a dedicated letter-writer myself. 

Eventually, I made it less and less often to Sydney Public Library.  Finally, my parents moved away.  I still thought about the book and regretted that I had never thought to steal it (as I may have done once or twice to books that I could not bear to part with).

I searched for years and years for that book, looking in every used bookstore in Ottawa and every city that Jaime and I visited (in Montreal, Toronto, San Francisco, Boston, and more).  I never found it.

One day, not long ago, I mentioned this book to a friend of mine for some reason and told her that I had been searching for it for years.  Her husband happens to be a book collector.  She asked me for the name of it. I told her but then I didn't think about our conversation. 

Last night, my friend handed me a pretty pink bag.  I was surprised to be receiving a present in the middle of my kids' swimming lessons, but not as amazed as when I found that book in the bag.  I had never thought I would hold that book in my hands again.  It was even the same library edition that I would always read (though, no, it was not from the Sydney library). 

I don't know why, but that book means so much to me. It feels like it represents me as a young girl.  More than a book, it is home to me.

It will always mean so much to me, because it is one of the most special gifts I have ever received, and I will cherish it always.

The March Break is Over

The March Break is over.  This is why I know.

 

If the March Break were not over, I would not care that I had forgotten my password to log onto my work e-mail.  I would not care that that it took 15 minutes to log on (after I remembered my password) because my workstation had been upgraded to Windows 7 while I was away.  I would not raise my eyebrows that it took me about 10 times longer to retrieve my MyLearning Account username than to actually complete the mandatory online training. 

 

I would not be trying to complete 5 hours of homework and piano practice with my daughter in half an hour.  I would not be cooking the next day’s dinner today to make sure we can eat before a 6:00 soccer try-out and piano practice.

 

I would not be sitting, waiting to get an x-ray of my spine (for osteoporosis – don’t ask) at the lab near my work – the very one where they forgot to send my doctor my original ultrasound report.  I have long thought about this lab, and what I would do if I had to go there again (which I do, because I will be having tests for the rest of my life and it is the only one in downtown Ottawa).  I pictured demanding to see a copy of the “investigative report” that my doctor asked for (which said nothing except my report fell through the cracks).  I pictured asking them if they realized what such a mistake could mean for a person.  I thought about asking, at least, if they planned to send my doctor the x-ray report this time.  However, I didn’t do any of that.  I waited, did my test, said thank you and left.  Really, what else could I do that would do any good?  My doctor’s office has already changed its procedures as a result of what happened to me so that they follow up with patients to see if they have gone for the tests they were supposed to take and with labs and specialists for the reports.  This is the only good that can come out of what happened to me.  (Also, I urge everyone to follow up themselves with their doctors, because I have learned that no news does not always mean good news.)  So I behaved myself.

 

So here I am.  The March Break is over.  And I am one week closer to April – I don’t know whether I want to be closer or not.  Uncertainty is difficult, but I tell myself that it is better than having the worst confirmed, though it is worse than having good news confirmed!  And good news is what I am aiming for.  Hoping for.

 

Because hope is the opposite of fear.  And today, at this moment, I am giving myself permission to hope.

 

P.S.  Thank you for all your warm and supportive e-mails after my last post – they mean the world to me.

 

 

 

 

 

 

On faith, despair and the meaning of life

This is what Jaime told me tonight.

That I can fear, but I should not despair.

Even if I learn the worst, I should not despair.

Because when one despairs, one loses faith, one loses the meaning of life.

It is a miracle that we are here.  No matter what our life and what our state.  It is a miracle to have life at all, any life, for however long. 

Even if I learn the worst, and have to go through horrible treatments, and die in the end, I should not despair.

Because I will have lived.  And will still be living.  And as horrible as I think that life might be, it will still be life, and it will still be miraculous, and I have no right to feel that such a life is not every bit as miraculous as that of a healthy person.  

What have I done?  I have given my parents a lifetime of joy.  I met my soulmate, my beschert, at a young age, and have already spent 20 years with him.  We have created 2 beautiful beings and put them on the earth and have loved them and nurtured them.  I have touched the lives of many people.  I know I have.  And I will continue to do this, until I die, no matter what state I am in.

This is not an ode to the end of my life.  I am not convinced that what I will find out in that test will be the worst.  I fear it, but I can put it in perspective, that it is unlikely to be the worst - though it could be - because of many facts.  Though it is possible, it is simply unlikely.

But I fear it.  And out of my fear, I am still trying to learn to have faith.  Not to despair.  And I am trying to find the meaning of life, for myself, and for anyone.  I will continue to strive for it, always, even if I live to be 100 years old. 

Why April?

Today, I called to see if I could facilitate my ultrasound appointment because I hate waiting to be contacted for an appointment.  It was actually surprisingly easy to find the clinic where my specialist had sent the requisition, or maybe I’m just getting good at navigating.  Anyway, I tried to see if I could get my appointment earlier because my specialist had said it could take a month, but April 4^th is the date I was given – a month. 

 

“But could I have it sooner?”

 

I was gently but firmly told yes I could but Dr. H had specifically requested April, so no.

 

But why April if they could do it sooner?

 

I would like to interpret it as Dr. H is not that worried.  On the other hand, she didn’t say she wasn’t worried.  But she did say that she was going on another Disney Cruise.  Now, I love Dr. H.  She is an amazing doctor and seems like a wonderful person, and I would be devastated if she were ever to move or something.  She literally saved my life.  (How do I thank someone enough for that?)  However, I have not quite forgiven her for going on a three-week Disney Cruise last year in March, and abandoning me when I was waiting for my pathology results and ended up in the hands of an incohesive web of random, one-off doctors in the hospital and ended up with a nephroscopy tube. 

 

“So you had a good vacation?” my mother asked, genuinely, last year.

 

“Best vacation of my life.  You should go!”

 

So I remember the problem with March.

 

But what can I do?  Try to relax in March, I guess.  I will be off a lot of days in March – to take March break with my kids.  I really wanted a carefree March break, unlike the HORRIBLE March break of last year.

 

I guess I have to put my worries aside.  I find that hard to do.  I mean, it could be nothing.  But last time, this symptom wasn’t nothing – it was everything.  So how can I believe it will be anything else but that this time?  Jaime says that I have to have faith, and just believe.  I have definitely become more spiritual in the last year, but I am still having trouble with the concept of faith.  It’s not that I require hard scientific evidence for everything (though, yes, please, preferably, I would like the hard evidence) but my question is more of a spiritual one.  What about the people for whom things don’t work out in the end?  Was it because they didn’t have enough faith?  I don’t believe that.  The God that I believe in does not punish non-believers.  Maybe it is not about whether it works or not, but just that it provides comfort. 

 

In any case, I do need to find a way to survive all of this, because the whole rest of my life will likely be about symptoms and tests and wondering about all of this.  I have contacted Maplesoft for cancer coaching.  It has taken me a year to contact them, because, as Jaime said, it is a group of people that I don’t want to be associated with or having anything to do with.  But I am desperate.  And I don’t know where to turn anymore, because I don’t have anything concrete to be scared of….just a vague symptom, a far-off test, general anxiety.  Maybe some post-traumatic stress.  Make that a “definitely”. 

 

I had a hard time even filling out the Maplesoft cancer profile.  What stage of cancer am I in?  Am I cured?  Am I in remission?  Am I a survivor?  What am I being tested for?  None of the labels really seem to work.  I had the same questions when I thought about joining the cancer discussion in the Globe and Mail today.  What would I say about my status?  And am I ready to go public with this?  I mean, here I am obviously blogging about it on the internet, but nobody reads my blog (except for those to whom I have given the website to (maybe, though I only have one “follower”, though I do have over 1,600 hits) and some random people – Germany comes up and Russia) but not anyone I have met since last April. 

 

I have also discovered a couple of other cancer blogs (and I thought I was the only one who did that!) thanks to the Globe and Mail.  I have been reading those but I don’t know if it is good for me or not, just like I don’t know if it will be good for me to go to Maplesoft.  Should I just try to forget about it and move on or work through it”  Okay, clearly forgetting about it isn’t working. 

 

Maplesoft it is. 

 

P.S. I’ll need some more followers if I am ever to get a book deal out of this!  =)

 

More Stress

Today was my appointment with my specialist.  I was nervous about it because I have been having a symptom that has been worrying me.  It was one of the original symptom I had.  So I just can't tell if my mind is bringing this on, or if it is happening again.

My doctor wants to do an ultrasound.  I would have been more reassured had she simply said she was sure that it was my mind playing tricks on me.  But she didn't.

And the ultrasound won't be for another month.  Then I have to wait for the results.  So I'm not going to know anything for quite sometime.

In the meantime, Jaime won't let me be upset or worried about this.  No feelings are allowed.  So strong is his belief that life will always be full of this, so we must always just carry on.

Yes, he is right.  But I am just not up for this.  And he is driving me crazy in the meantime.