Yoga for Cancer Recovery Free Series

Let's talk about silver linings: my original theme for this blogging endeavor. Please take a look at the invitation above and I think you'll see one of the primary gifts I've received this year.

Earlier this year while I was going through chemotherapy, I earned my certification to teach yoga to cancer patients. Now that I'm nearing the last months of my treatment, I'm able to share what I've learned both on and off of the mat with others who are living with cancer. I am both excited and nervous for the first official series of classes that I'll be teaching in this niche. It is funny: I'm so comfortable teaching yoga, it is as natural to me as breathing.

But, this is different. More powerful because there is an additional bond between all of the students that automatically makes us kindred souls: our lives have been touched in a way that changes us forever. So, I'm nervous. I want to share my gift of teaching with this community, to help heal, to help make a difference. I want to resonate.

I'm excited to be partnering with lululemon Carlsbad, where I am an ambassador, in offering this series of free weekly classes for the month of August. We'll meet Thursday mornings at 9am, prior to the store opening, starting next week. The classes are open to all levels and all people living with cancer: the only requirement is showing up on the mat.

Birthday Escape Recap

My birthday was fantastic! Thank you everyone for all the birthday cards and wishes!

My primary desire was for sunshine and an escape from the reality of continued treatment. After an 8:30am radiation session, where anyone and everyone profusely apologized to me for Tuesday, Todd and I zoomed up to Laguna Beach for a 26 hour escape. I highly recommend the Casa Laguna Inn Bed & Breakfast for a perfect trip that felt like we were somewhere on the French Riviera.

With the sun shining brightly, the sky a clear blue and the air warm and soft, we headed north. I was so excited to leave my radiation treatment behind that I didn't mind wearing my Solaris arm-length oven-mitt in the car. I knew that I was shedding the sleeve for most of the day and figured that would make up for it. We headed to Splashes for lunch. Splashes is the restaurant at the very fancy Surf & Sand Resort. We dined with the ladies who lunch. Rather decadent for a Wednesday afternoon.

Then, we meandered down to our B&B. It was built circa 1920 and is filled with terraces and courtyards and winding vines tipped with bouganvilla. We sat out by the pool with a breathtaking view of the ocean, where classical music softly played in the background. It felt so healing to lounge in the sun, with the occasional dip in the pool. Then, we checked into our room, which was on the top level, with a view of the Pacific I could get accustomed to. We rounded out the afternoon with a walk down to Victoria Beach and some wine and cheese from the B&B happy hour.

Laguna has a free shuttle trolley that transported us a few miles into the center of town. We enjoyed dinner at Hush, a rather modern, California cuisine restaurant. Another exquisite meal. Enjoying food is such an important part of living in the present moment. I'm so glad that my taste buds are returning to normal. Now, I have to admit that we drank a lot of wine and I'm a lightweight. Let's just say that I'm happy that my exit from the trolley in 4-inch heels was not captured on film.

After enjoying a tasty breakfast on the terrace, strolling around town and hitting the beach, we returned to San Diego. And, the birthday buzz screamed to a halt as I headed down to Scripps for my radiation treatment.

My take on radiation thus far: the treatment is fast and they run it like clockwork. But, I'm concerned that I already feel the heat and tightness in my skin. Wow, what will it be like come September? I'm slathering on the aloe and plan on purchasing some calendula cream because it is supposed to be good at preventing the serious skin damage that can occur. My poor boob has just endured some serious abuse this year.

I cannot wait for September 15th: the last day of radiation: two days before we leave for Australia. Talk about a welcome escape!

Birthday Eve

Birthday Eve
Thanks for all the encouraging comments!

Do you know those days where you are running from place to place, always about 5 minutes late for each appointment? I had one of those frenetic days today for the first time that I can recall. They used to be a mainstay of my life and I must say that I do not miss the madness.

I won't bore you with all the details but, I must rant about my ridiculous morning at Scripps. I reported in to Radiation Oncology at 9am for my radiation and repeat CT-Scan. Yes, repeat CT-Scan. Apparently, the one that was taken the day I was tattooed turned out strangely. Two techs ask me if I'd been panting during the scan. Panting. My bafflement must have shown because one lady actually panted like a dog to illustrate. I assured all of them that I hadn't been laying there, all magic markered and stickered up, panting.

Anyways, they told me to expect to be there for an hour. My lymphedema PT appointment was at 10am at the Scripps La Jolla location, about 5 minutes away. I could make that work. After the CT-Scan, however, the story changes and they tell me that it will be at least an hour before they'd have things set up for radiation. And, that I'd need to redo the x-rays from the day before because the parameters were all wrong from the CT-scan where I was allegedly panting. Well, what the heck did they radiate yesterday then?? If all the x-rays and CT-scan were wrong and needed redoing, should I be concerned?

Beyond concern, I was annoyed. They asked if I could come back, assuring me that they'd have me out of there in 10-15 minutes. I told them no, that I had appointments at 10am, class at 12pm, appointments at 2, 3:30 and 4:30pm. I'd come for my allotted hour and that wasn't enough?

Persistent creatures that they are, they asked if I could return for 10 to 15 minutes after my 10am PT appointment and assured me I'd be able to make it to Encinitas for my class at 12pm. So, I zoom over to Scripps La Jolla for PT. I cut my appointment thirty minutes short. Mind you, this is the second robe I've changed into by 10am.

I then run out of PT, hop in my car and drive back over to the parking lot from hell at Scripps Torrey Pines. For the second time, I battled octogenarians (sorry dad) who felt free to drive the wrong way up one-way lanes, lay on the horn while reversing up said lane in attempts to snag parking spaces. Madness. They need to sell extra insurance to traverse that lot.

I park. I lope back into the basement to Radiation. On goes Robe #3, accidentally ripping off Sheila in the process. I stuffed her back on my head, slightly askew, in my haste to get my radiation. Tick tock. 15 minutes elapse in the waiting area. It is now 11:33 and I need to be in Encinitas by 12pm. My agreement with these people was that I'd run back to them and they'd get me in and out in 15 minutes. My blood is starting to boil at this point.

I wasn't going to no-show my class so, I trotted back to shed Robe #3 and hightailed it out of there. I let the receptionist know that I had to leave and that I wasn't coming back for a third time today. I had to run back up the stairs, risk my life traversing the parking lot, and speed all the way to Encinitas and then try to calm myself down enough to teach class.

Wow, this is the non-detailed version.

The day improved from there. I went over to lululemon and got casted for keep-a breast foundation. Very interesting experience!

I'm really excited for tomorrow's trip to Laguna with Todd. It will start with an 8:30am radiation appointment. After that, it is celebration time!

p.s. photo of hair that fell out...missing it a lot!

Radiation....

They say radiation is fast. I'll say. I didn't even know that I was receiving it and they came in and told me it was over! Bizarre.

The first day, they take several x-rays to make sure they've got the exact parameters to radiate. Or something like that. All I know is that I was lying on the incredibly hard table, with my arms overhead, while 3 techs and a doctor swarmed around me in my topless state. Red rays were all over me. They walked out for what seemed like a minute and returned to inform me that I was done. It will be interesting to see if it is like that every day. Definitely better than chemo, if that is the case.

Today, I consulted with an amazing lymphedema specialist from Colorado named Trudy. www.healthlinksclinic.com. She gave me some additional helpful information and suggested that I do a lot more lymphatic self-massage and keep up on the range of motion exercises daily. She also told me to relax and meditate more because stress can make it worse.

She is concerned that radiation will exacerbate the problem and told me that I most definitely need to stay out of the heated yoga room, at least until a few months after radiation is complete. The heat and humidity trigger not only the swelling but also will make the radiation side-effects worse. Essentially, radiation is heat and my body will be working to stay healthy from the burning. Additional heat doesn't help. This is the umpteenth person who has doled out this advice.

I've been trying to avoid what seemed like the inevitable since the lymphedema reared its ugly head. Today, I had to give in and get my classes at Sculpt Fusion covered for the next few months. I'm so saddened because I love the community at Sculpt Fusion; I'd just returned to my classes and was so happy to reconnect with my students. Not to mention that I taught five classes there and it was a major part of my income. This lymphedema is hitting me on so many levels.

But, I will win.

Tomorrow is my birthday eve. One more day of being 43. For some odd reason, I won't be sad to wave goodbye to 43. Bring on 44!

BTW, feel free to comment directly on the blog! It makes me smile.

Seeking some strength.

So, I'm typing in this glove and it really isn't working for me. Besides being inordinately unattractive, it is uncomfortable. I just find it amazing that they prescribe these items and act like it is not a big deal. Wrong!

This is my right hand. My writing hand. It feels like a slow deterioration of everything that was once normal. The scars, the numb armpit, the bandages. I cannot pretend. This situation with my arm has sent me into a depression. Plain and simple. Here is a link to a NY Times article on lymphedema and exercise if you are interested in learning more about this "mystery" condition. http://well.blogs.nytimes.com/2009/08/17/ask-questions-about-cancer-lymphedema-and-exercise/

Other than that, I've had a great weekend. Yesterday I taught a Lululemon Community yoga class and we had 58 people practicing in the store! And a dog! I love teaching there: always fun. I'm so grateful for the opportunity. Thanks to everyone who came!

Last night was the grand opening party for Bindu Yoga Studio in Del Mar. Katie attracted a huge turnout, with music, refreshments and art. This studio is such a special space and I love being a part of it. If you are local and haven't been yet, join me Monday at 9:15am.

Prior to the party, Todd and I tried Blue Fin Sushi and it was fantastic. I'm happy to report that I can taste again!! I believe that my taste buds are just about back to normal! And, for someone who appreciates food as much as me, that is great progress.

To round out the weekend, I went to the Beach House for a birthday champagne brunch with my girlfriends Anne, April, Kirsten and Nikke. I was pleased that the mimosas were full-flavor as well. Good friends, good food, lots of laughter and an ocean view: what's not to love? Thanks ladies for kicking off my birthday week!

I have so much to be grateful for right now. But, I am having a tough time keeping myself level. Radiation starts tomorrow. Tamoxifin prescription is filled and I don't want to take it. Where will I draw the strength to finish this last leg of the journey? I'm exhausted mentally and emotionally. I want to be able to enjoy a regular, meaning with sun salutations, yoga practice. Sooner rather than later.

Hear Ye, Hear Ye!

Breaking News from Carlsbad, California:

Attention: The Dreaded Liver Spot is Gone: Nowhere to be found. Not even a speckle. Nothing. Nada. Not a dot on the liver. We still have no clue what the dreaded spot was but, whatever it was, it hightailed itself out of my liver. Good riddance!

Oncologist concurs: "the lymphedema must feel like the straw that broke the camel's back." Well put, Dr. K, well put! She was saddened to learn that lymphedema had found me. She recognizes that this means major changes not just in my personal life but, also in my professional life. The heated yoga room is a problem. She confirmed that it is chronic and waxes and wanes for the rest of your life. Over the last three weeks: it has gone from 14.4 to 21% to 19% to 15% volume difference. Yippee. At least it is measurably smaller. I've got a ways to go before it is reduced to 5-10% difference.

New and Informed Sources offer Hope: Next week, I will be starting on a supplement called Circuberry that will help with the lymphatic system issues. I received some excellent advice on lymphedema and general rebuilding of my body post-chemo from a source in New York. Also, on Monday, I'm consulting with "the best lymphedema expert" in Colorado. This practitioner works for a clinic so won't be handcuffed by insurance and hospital restraints. I'm hopeful she will have some additional information for me besides what I'm already doing. So far, the most helpful work has been the micro-current treatment with my acupuncturist. Thank goodness for her!

Mummy Lady Sheds her Bandages!: Yes, it is true! I no longer have to bandage my arm. I have 20 minutes of each day of my life back! How is this possible? I am now the proud owner of the Solaris Night Sleeve. Now, I can put on my custom oven-mitt-like-device instead. As the bandages almost squeezed out the final vestiges of my sanity, this is fantastic news. Even though soon I won't have to wear it. I won't accept the PT's prediction of daily sleeve and nightly oven-mitt until December.

Finally! Someone has Numbers for Radiation after Chemo: Dr. K told me that there is a 35% difference in recurrence rate with the radiation. The chemo kills all the micro-cells (?) in the entire body but, isn't as effective at the surgery site for some reason. So, the radiation ensures that any rogue cells near the old tumor are killed. Hmmmmm....at least it is a stat. That's what I wanted, right? I am going to go ahead with the radiation. Start it anyways.


Claire has 1825 Pills to Swallow: Time to start the 5 years of daily Tamoxifen. So, that means more hot flashes. As I am not currently enamored of the waking up in the middle of the night sweating, this news is altogether unwelcome. Apparently, chemo has knocked me into early menopause. Not sure how I feel about that. I guess that means definitively that my parents will never have grandchildren. That is ones that are not four-legged. When I think of it this way, it feels tragic.

Life Marches On... Believe it or not, I actually had time to see friends, to teach and to see Eclipse again. And, in the interest of maintaining the facade of a normal life, I am now going to indulge in a glass of wine with my man.

A little patience...

How did it get to be July 20th? My birthday is a week from tomorrow. How did I get to be a week shy of 44? This photo is from my 40th.

44??? Really? The doctors all keep telling me that they are treating me so aggressively because I am so young. 20 is young. 44 is...gasp...dare I say it?....Middle Aged.

What do they say? 50 is the new 30? And, 40 is the new 20? What does that make me?

Some days I feel 100, wise and experienced beyond my years. But, if I am honest, most days I feel like I'm about 25. Maturity-wise anyways. And, that is fine with me. It is all an attitude, right? I plan on approaching life with a childlike wonder for many more years.

No word from the oncologist regarding the results of the liver CT-scan. That must be good news. I meet with her on Friday. We'll see if she has a more convincing line regarding the radiation. She's said a few times that I could have been cancer free right after surgery. They just don't know. I wish she hadn't told me that.

I've spoken with a few people, some who have experience in the medical field and who have recently researched this issue. The consensus seems to reinforce that view that I am REALLY young. Radiation to the location where the tumor was removed is basically extra insurance to make double-pinky-swear-sure that any rogue cancer cell is squashed. They just don't know. How is that possible? The uncertainty stings.

The lessons in patience and faith don't seem to be slowing down. The hand and arm continue to wax and wane. Even a mellow walk causes my hand to swell up. How much bandaging can one arm take? They were torn off at 5am and tossed across the room. Again. It is so hard to sleep with three layers of bandages from knuckle to armpit. I am starting to have dreams that I'm completely wrapped up from head to toe. Not pretty. No mystery deconstructing that dream!

Time to go wrap the arm.

Radiation dilemma

Dilemma of the day: to radiate or not to radiate? I am not fully convinced that it is the right thing to do for me. I don't understand why neither the oncologist nor the radiation oncologist can give me statistics. What is the different rate of recurrence with or without radiation?

Before, radiation didn't seem like a big deal. Now, it does. What is this radiation going to do to my body? The collateral damage is just so huge from all of this. One of my biggest fears at the beginning of this ride was what would happen to my immune system long-term from all the "cure." The lymphedema is a result of my immune system being impaired. And, it really stinks.

My legs still feel super sore, like I ran a marathon. It is bizarre. I was lucky enough to have a massage yesterday afternoon and Mel, my amazing massage therapist, told me that she could feel the ropiness in my muscles. This recovery may be taking longer than I had anticipated.

Nonetheless, I will keep putting one foot in front of the other. Perhaps through a little yoga and meditation the right decision will come to me.

A Regular Summer Day

It feels like summer! Normal summer, not Ye Olde Summer of Cancer 2010. Wonderful. Dinner in Laguna last night was lovely. What a gorgeous little seaside town. I did whip off Sheila the second we got into the car and rode back to Carlsbad bald. Not so normal!

Today, I had nothing to do, nowhere to be. I'd almost forgotten how that feels. We headed down to the beach and basked in the sun and splashed in the surf. I sported Dominique with a straw hat. I only went into the ocean up to my thighs because I'm not sure that Dominique is a swimmer!

We reviewed our Australia travel book and the trip is beginning to take shape. Reality! Escape! Two weeks of bliss! Two months from today we are on the plane to Sydney.

This morning, I unwrapped my bandaged arm and was thrilled to see my hand looking smaller than it has in the last few weeks. Almost normal. Veins and tendons and wrinkles and everything. It maintained all day! I did some yoga here at the house but, re-bandaged it first. I'm not taking any chances! Perhaps I've broken the barrier and the miracle has arrived: no more swelling.

People have been asking how I am feeling. Well, my body feels bizarre. My energy level feels like it is increasing. No more mandatory naps. But, my legs are incredibly sore, as if I'd climbed El Capitan. Stop laughing at that visual. I also feel swollen all over. Perhaps the lactic acid is reacting differently? I'm not sure what causes these quick shifts in my physique. Perhaps each cell in my body is doing a handstand because they've realized the chemotherapy portion of treatment is done, done, done. That's great and all but, they can pull it in a bit because my pants feel tight.

I've been pondering the next two months of daily radiation and I am not convinced, at all, that it is the right thing to do. Why can't the doctor's give me recurrence numbers specifically for 1)surgery + 2) chemotherapy + 3) radiation??? They keep talking about lumpectomy goes with radiation, whether or not lymph nodes are involved. But, they've told me that the chemotherapy kills everything. Why do I need to cook my right boob and surrounding environs? What damage will that do to my skin, my muscle, my bone, my organs?

Time to enjoy a regular July Saturday night.

May I have a redo please?

Today started out fabulously:

7:30am: cuddle session with the cats

8am: gentle yoga practice at home, all with the Michelin Man arm bandaging

10:30am: manicure/pedicure.

That's when it went south.

My Fantasy Day: I would've gone to see Eclipse again by myself. Then, soaked up some sunshine at the pool while reading my new book. Perhaps a walk on the beach.

My Actual Day:

11:30am: Lymphedema therapy, complete with compression pump and bandaging.

1:10pm: Check in at Radiology for the CT Re-scan of the liver. No pressure or stress there. Drank a pitcher of dye slowly for an hour and fifteen minutes, had an IV inserted into my arm and more dye poured in and then stuffed into the Scanner. This is that fun test where they inject the dye through the IV and it makes you feel like you wet your pants. Silver lining: graham crackers and orange juice.

3:35pm: Famished after fasting all morning for that test. Go to Green Hospital cafeteria. Go directly to baked goods bin. Purchase two cookies and a jelly donut. Consume in under two minutes. Not much chewing. Twenty minutes later, for some odd reason, I developed an intense tummy ache. I guess that wasn't the super-antioxidant meal I should've had. Oh well.

4:00pm: Report to Radiation Oncology in basement of Scripps Clinic. Receive my nifty removeable armband that will enable me to park for free for the next 7 1/2 weeks of daily radiation treatment. I love the VIP treatment.

The nurse weighs me and I weigh more than I ever have in my entire LIFE. Seriously. Are you kidding me? Those cookies sure registered quickly. Then, I get the scoop: the doctor isn't going to radiate my lymph nodes because that will make the lymphedema worse. And, he informs me that since the cancer in my one lymph node had only been 4mm, read TINY, that he felt comfortable radiating just my breast. It is hard not to feel saddened to know that tiny 4mm spot was the difference between the axial dissection that caused lymphedema and chemo and having the lesser invasive lumpectomy and radiation. Oh well..

Nobody can explain to me why I have to have radiation after having had chemo. Chemo was supposed to kill every microscopic cell, cancer or not, right? Isn't this a bit much to now radiate my breast 35 times?

So, more indignities followed: they mark up the area where they plan on radiating you. With magic markers and stickers. I felt like a prize cantalope at the county fair. Then, you put your arms overhead and get stuck back into yet another CT Scanner while they photograph the exact location for treatment. They also take photos with a regular camera. What the heck am I going to do when I get famous and those are leaked on the internet?!!

Next, they remove the stickers and permanently tattoo you in three different spots.
Mind you, I was not of the generation who felt compelled to get a tattoo. No desire. Ever. Now, I have a dot right in the middle of my cleavage. Great. Couldn't they do it on the boob where it could be covered up? Really? And, the tech was really sweet and trying to make the spot tiny. This kindness backfired and she had to re-poke me with the needle in two of three spots. It hurt. A lot.

I prefer Scenario #1: my fantasy day. Thank you very much.

I am very excited that tomorrow is Friday, that I have no appointments, that I get to teach my Frogs yoga class, hang out in the sun and then go to Laguna to dinner with my cute boyfriend.

Sunny Day #2

San Diego weather is back! Sunny and 75. I wanted to hit the pool but, my arm was bandaged up after therapy and I just thought it might be a sweaty, messy endeavor. I wouldn't want to scare any of the kids at the pool. Imagine: the bald lady with the big pink hat and Michelin Man arm starts screaming and ripping bandages off, throwing them in the pool. They'd probably be scarred for life.

As the arm shrinks: my arm is smaller than last week. But, not as small as the week before. It was 14% larger 2 weeks ago and 21% larger last week. Scary. It is down to @17% difference. My goal is that by my birthday in 2 weeks, yes, that is right: MY BIRTHDAY IS IN 2 WEEKS FROM TODAY: JULY 28TH! I MADE IT!!

Okay, my goal is that by my birthday in 2 weeks that it is under 10%. How many times can I say that my birthday day is in 2 weeks? We are shooting for a 5-10% difference and then maintaining that. Forever. My PT also cleared me to start doing some light weights on my arms and 5 Sun Salutations. Yippee! I can do 5 Sun Salutations. On my knees and on my forearms in Down Dog. It is a start.

Tomorrow is a big day. I have PT again at 11:30 and will be compressed and bandaged when I head over for the CT-Scan from Hell. The Liver Scan. That silly spot is going to be gone, gone, gone. I figured out what it was anyways: Prom night. After the scan, I meet with the radiation oncologist to plan them frying my boob for 7 weeks. I am looking forward to tomorrow being over already and I haven't even woken up yet.

Then, a weekend of sunshine! And working out. On the road to recovery. Did I mention that my birthday is in 2 weeks?

Turning the corner

What a difference a day makes. I am so grateful for all the support that I have. Today, I turned the corner in my mindset with this lymphedema. It isn't resolved yet but, I decided that it will be. I am not accepting that this could take six months of daily bandaging and sleeve wearing. I will heal faster because I am strong.

Lois worked with me with the microcurrent machine to open up the lymphatic pathways near the incision that marks the inception of this latest snafu in my cancer recuperation. It is miraculous how the swelling subsides so quickly with this alternative treatment. It sure beats bandaging. Anyways, I kissed my arm in the shower and told it that it would be healed very soon. Love, love, love to my right arm.

And, enough about the arm. Way too much airtime over the last three and one-half weeks.

As I mentioned earlier, I was thrilled to go to Warner Springs and participate in Active.com's Endurance Camp. Today, I was thrilled to receive feedback from some of the students who practiced yoga with me.

"That was the absolute best yoga experience I've ever had. Period."
"In the top 3 yoga sessions I've had"
"Claire is amazing. I've been doing this for years, and THAT was amazing."

It makes me all warm and fuzzy inside to know that I can connect with people through my teaching. I love teaching yoga.

Today, things shifted for me. I've turned a corner and am certain that my strength is returning. My body thinks it is getting poisoned again on Thursday and it isn't! I can't wait to see how I start feeling each day now that my cells aren't under attack from the chemo drugs. And, hair is growing. By next week, I'm sure I'll have a luxurious mane.

I can dream big, right?

A Change of Scenery

I know there are those who say that you can't run away from your problems but, I tend to disagree. Changing location can play a huge part in altering your mood, at least for a little while. Escape. Relief. Lightness and change.

Warner Springs ActiveX Endurance Camp did it for me, at least until my arm swelled up. But, that is a later rant. About 100 active.com employees spent the weekend biking, swimming, running in preparation for the Solana Beach Triathalon. We were there so I could teach the yoga class at the end of the festivities.

We arrived to glorious sunshine yesterday. Hot, sunny blue skies. It felt fantastic. San Diego has been gray, cold and drizzly for over two weeks straight and it weighs on the psyche. We lounged at the pool, soaked up some sun and relaxed. For the first time since the lymphedema developed, I was completely happy. An enjoyable BBQ with a wonderful group of people completed a great day.

Alas, the escape was merely fleeting. I spent yesterday afternoon getting fitted for a sleeve to wear all day, every day, until the lymphedema improves. My PT didn't prescribe a gauntlet/glove for me, just the sleeve. My hand has held a great deal of swelling and from what I've read, you are supposed to have a gauntlet (fingerless) glove to control the hand swelling. What do I know as the patient, right?

I'd gotten over the mental and emotional hurdle and had resolved to wear the damn hideous, uncomfortable, orthopedic stocking-looking thing all day and bandage all night. I want my arm back.

So, yesterday morning, I went to my shift at the cat house at Petco and wore the sleeve. By the end of the two hour shift, my hand was swollen and red. Not good. I lost it. What am I supposed to do? I'm trying to comply with all of this restrictive treatment and it ISN'T WORKING. I am so frustrated that I cannot stop bursting into tears. Why did my hand swell up??? I couldn't reach anyone to answer my questions.

Then, I bandaged last night after the Warner Springs dinner and expected to wake up to a smaller arm. Nope. No visual difference. It made my morning challenging, trying to ignore it as I taught, worried it would swell more from the efforts.

Escape over.

Warner Springs Eve

TGIF! No more appointments for a few days. This week has been dominated by efforts to curb the expansion of my arm. Unfortunately, it is bigger than it was last week, which is not the result aimed for. So, I'll be wearing a sleeve all day every day and bandages all night for the foreseeable future.

On the alternative front, I'm continuing with the microcurrent treatments that yield immediate results in diminishing swelling. I'm also going to start on some herbal supplements that are supposed to aid with lymphatic system issues. And, I am working my way to true visualization and healing. This issue will be resolved and it will become a distant memory. No more flare ups. This is it. One shot evil lymphedema: that is all you get with me. Once you are gone, you are history. Period.

So there!

On a positive note, today I met with an amazing woman who works for City of Hope. She is organizing an event called Yoga for Hope to raise money for cancer research. I am going to work with her to help make it a huge success. I'm honored to be a part of this inaugural event.

What is City of Hope? It is one of only 40 National Cancer Institute-designated Comprehensive Cancer Centers nationwide and a founding member of the National Comprehensive Cancer Network. An independent biomedical research, treatment and education institution, they are a leader in the fight to conquer cancer, diabetes, HIV/AIDS and other life-threatening diseases. www.cityofhope.org.

Off to pack for Warner Springs. It is the second annual ActiveX (active.com) Warner Springs Endurance Camp. Arch Fuston organizes a weekend of triathalon preparation, complete with bringing out the experts to coach on tri transitions, swim trials, etc. I'm leading a yoga class on Sunday morning for all the athletes after they return from their run. Last year was a blast and I expect the same for this year.

The Lymphedema Blues

Warning: I'm having a self-pity type of week. As I promised myself I'd keep it real in documenting my journey, I'm not holding back. I know I'll emerge on the other side of this but, for now, I am plowing through a present that is very challenging. I know that this lymphedema will resolve itself and won't be such a big deal soon. Very soon. For the present moment, however, it is not resolved.

Yesterday my arm swelled up as I was teaching class in the heated room. I felt helpless as I watched it grow over the 75 minute class. It was disappointing, to put it mildly.

How to analogize: I'd say it is like when you feel the initial tingling of a cold sore sprouting up at an inopportune time in a very obvious spot. The horror hits you as you know if you don't catch it in time, it will explode right on the center of your lip, most likely right before you have a big date or photo session. And, you know that it will last for a few weeks before it decides to make its exit. Or, if you haven't had a cold sore, dredge up that buried high school moment when a giant pimple the size of a rasberry sprouted on the tip of your nose before prom.

So, control issues are rearing their ugly head. When will this be under control? Why another physical issue that forces me to curtail my regular activities? Why so much restriction? Why am I in the 25% to develop this condition? I don't mean to be a big fat baby but, this is making me feel sorry for myself. Period. I'd hoped to be focused on regaining my strength and building back up to feeling "normal" again.

Okay, the positive: my new lymphedema therapist is excellent and has some great suggestions and I am praying that they work. Fast. Sleeping with my arm in three layers of bandages and one layer of thick cotton isn't comfortable. In fact, I haven't had a good night's sleep in four nights. Finally, I ripped them off at 3am last night.

Okay, manifestation time: I will sleep eight blissful hours tonight and when I wake up in the morning and remove my bandages, my hand will look normal. After I meet with the PT tomorrow, we will have this resolved. For the foreseeable future.

Back to school!

Return to reality! I feel like a little kid who just went back to school after a long summer away from all her favorite people. What an awesome day! I am pooped.

The morning started at Bindu Yoga in Del Mar, where some of my students from other studios came in and tried the studio for the first time. Lovely energy, lovely class! Then, I headed over to Sculpt Fusion Yoga and was thrilled to see several of my regular students again. It was a familiar homecoming and I couldn't be happier.
The work day ended at Pilates with my strong, lovely regulars Leslie and Katharine. How can teaching be so much fun?

Unfortunately, my hand swelled up yesterday and again today. I've been wrapping nightly but, I cannot sleep. Last night I ripped them off at 4am because I couldn't endure another moment. I wrapped yesterday and today when I returned home. All I can say is this wrapping with three layers of bandages, a layer of cotton and a cotton sleeve underneath sucks. When the bandages are removed, there are deep marks into my skin from the compression and that is considered normal. It does bring down the swelling but, there is nothing "normal" about it. At all.

I am confident, however, that my arm will return to normal size and stay that way. It will, it will, it will.

3 Little Hairs

Okay, this is getting ridiculous. Where is the sun? My toes are painted patriotic blue, my bikini is orange, my giant pink hat that adequately covers my big bald head was securely in place. Slathered on sunscreen. New InStyle magazine. Lovely sarong, that I forgot how to tie....I need another lesson.

And, no sun. And, not only is there no sun, it is cold and breezy! Absolutely unacceptable.

So, here I sit, hunched over the computer at the peak of what should be a sunny 4th of July. Harrumph. We're going to take out the beach cruisers later but, I'm not sure if that is a good idea as my hat and hat-hair might blow off in the bitter, cold wind. The last time my hat was pulled off wasn't pretty and I'd prefer to avoid that trauma. Maybe I can tie it on with something?

I am feeling better! Thank goodness! Day 10 after the final chemotherapy treatment and I'm excited to usher in a new era. All of the yucky side-effects are starting to fade, one by one.

Emotionally, I feel rather disconnected from most of my friends and the studios where I teach. I just haven't been there fully for so long. I am eager to rebuild a sense of regularity where I teach when I'm scheduled, when I can talk to my friends and make plans that aren't centered around treatment, where things feel more reciprocal. There is a melancholy sense that I've been on ice for six months as everyone else has moved forward. I hope to find synchronicity soon.

On a positive note, some new hairs are sprouting on my head. Not the little 1/2 inch stubble but, actual hairs!! There are 3 in particular that have caught Todd and I's attention. These 3, count them, 3 hairs are about 2 inches long and appear to have just sprung up. So, if all of them start popping in at 2 inches, I'll be in a chic pixie in no time.

I swore I'd never have a pixie again but, I guess that is a lesson in there is no Never or Always. The term "pixie haircut" brings up a deep wound between my mother and I from when I was eight years old. I don't think I've ever forgiven her for it. She lured me to the hairdresser for a "trim" and I exited that salon with a pixie. Mind you, I was a skinny little kid and the only feature identifying me as female was my hair. With it shorn off of me, I looked like a little boy. Much to my chagrin.

To be fair, my mom was probably sick and tired of trying to get a brush through the rat's nest that was my long, waist-length hair. We were living in Nairobi at the time and I must admit that I was quite a tomboy. I was always playing outside and if I recall correctly, I wasn't a huge fan of the bath tub or taking my hair out of pigtails. Traumatized, I vowed never to have short hair again. Again, with those "nevers." I succeeded except for a misguided haircut and perm combo in high school but, that is another story.

So, come on 3 little hairs! Grow, multiply, becoming abundant! I'm letting go of absolutes like Never and Always....and not just with the hair. I'm ready to reclaim my life, starting with the renaissance of the pixie.

Adventures in mail-order

San Diegans are outraged at the extreme gray weather blanketing our fine city. June Gloom is over and it should be sunny beach weather. Although I would usually be marching at the head of the sunshine parade, the gloom has been the perfect setting for me over this last week. I've been a watered down version of myself: Shadow of Claire. I'm ready to remove the dimmer switch and shine very soon.

I'll share the most amusing moment of the entire week, thus lending you some insight to my entire week: the delivery of my Ovation Cell Therapy treatment. According to the radio and a few other personal testimonials, this concotion will grow my hair back thicker and fuller than ever before. If you remember my hair, not a big challenge.

When the doorbell rang, I was inside on the couch or bed, take your pick. Since I was in my full bald splendor complete with Michelin Man Mummy arm, I chose not to answer the door. Call me vain. As soon as I was certain the FedEx man had scuttled away, I yanked the door open, snatched the package with my mummy arm and retreated back into the cave with my prize.

I've been carefully washing my bald head with the shampoo and then massaging the Cell Therapy Treatment in the shower. I'm saving the conditioner portion of the ritual for when I actually have some hairs to put it on. I'm sure those follicles are getting fired up and ready to sprout out long, curly golden locks. Ha. I can dream right? Hell, they can come in silver and curly as long as they come in fast and will respond to Blonde Dye!

I've had the concentration span of a grasshopper this week. Hopefully, this isn't a side-effect of rubbing the Ovation gunk on my scalp. No ability to focus on completing anything that I need to complete, no sustained effort or if I am honest, no sustained interest in anything. I've just not had the energy to do anything. Physically or mentally. Perhaps it isn't just lymphatic fluid in my arm but, brain fluid has drained down to give me a fat elbow?

I did read some of my early blog entries from January and February. Wow, a lifetime ago. Tests, diagnoses, surgery, the drain, and and and. One thing that shines through is the amazing love and support that I've received from friends, family, students and even those that I didn't know.

Once treatment is finished and I feel officially "healed", it will be interesting to sit down and actually read the entire journey: I need a title: Bridget Jones Diary Meets Claire's Right Boob?

And, on that note, I'd forgotten all the gratuitous boob shots that I posted early on. What a great idea! Here's one from post-surgery, pre-chemo!

Team Edward

All. The. Way.