Great day!

I'm simply simmering with optimism today. It began with teaching a lovely class, if I do say so myself, at Bindu Yoga. The energy in this beautiful little studio is truly inspiring. Barbara, one of my students, was kind enough to run home before class to bring me some special lotion for the sad state of my skin. My chest and underarm are raw. Ouch!

I've been slathering on a variety of recommended potions, lotions and oils in what I now realize are futile attempts to not get cooked, blistered, flesh. It looks like someone held an iron against my armpit. Yesterday I had a disquieting epiphany. When I told Meredith that I was using emu oil, she asked me how the emu oil was made. Honestly, I hadn't even thought about it. Perhaps they milked the emu? or got it from the feathers? But, I had a niggling feeling that perhaps this wasn't the case.

Sure enough, when I returned home, I googled emu oil and learned that they kill the emu and obtain the oil from the fat. Oh no! I'm sorry Mr. Emu. I honestly didn't realize. Back to the calendula and the aloe.

This afternoon, Robyn from City of Hope, Stacy McCarthy the yoga guru (www.yoganamastacy.com), and I met to discuss the upcoming March 5th Yoga for Hope event that we are coordinating. It is really exciting to strategize and plan ways to create a successful, memorable inaugural event for such a worthy cause. I can't wait to firm up some of the details and involve yogis from all over San Diego.

I'm feeling so grateful for all the blessings in my life.

Time to slather on some more calendula aloe magic potion! Fingers crossed.

Close Call with Sheila

2 tickets booked for Sydney to Melbourne and back. A B&B selected in Melbourne and plans for an adventure road trip down the Great Ocean Road with Todd's sister Julie and her Aussie hubby Matthew. Australia is now beginning to feel like a reality and less like a fantasy. We leave in less than three weeks!

24 down, 12 to go.

In terms of radiation side-effects, I've yet to encounter the fatigue. Perhaps because I ignored the advice of my radiation oncologist and am taking lots of antioxidants and vitamins? My energy level feels like it did pre-cancer, even though if I'm honest, I cannot remember that far back right now. The skin on my chest and right underarm, however, is not happy. Red, raw, sore, itchy and plain angry at the radiation machine. I only have four more treatments to the large area, the remainder are to the tumor bed. Thank goodness because I think I'd have open wounds otherwise. Ouch.

My lymphedema arm has held steady for three weeks now, thank the lord! I'll continue to be extremely conservative and wear the sleeves and night sleeve until a month or so after radiation ends. Two of my new Lymphediva sleeves look like I've got tattoos: kind of fun.

This morning started with a potential disaster, I almost lost my wig! I went to Petco, for my Rescue House volunteer session with the cats. When I arrive, I shut the door to the room and let out all of the kitties. We've got about a dozen adorable cats and kittens in there at the moment, if you are looking for a new furry little friend.

So, as I was letting out shy Jasmine, I was petting her and Tyler, who lives upstairs from Jasmine, apparently got impatient. He reached out his paw and managed to pull my Sheila wig off of my head. Luckily, I grabbed it before it came all the way off and maintained my dignity. The salt-and-pepper chia pet head is not ready for public viewing yet.

The afternoon included a baby shower for a yoga instructor friend, Sara. It was great to catch up with her and Shannon and Amy, two other teachers from CorePower that I haven't seen since I've been sick. It feels like life is returning to some semblance of normalcy. At last.

Amazing day!

Today was amazing. Amazingly brimming with familiar and new faces, positive energy, interesting conversations, lots of yoga and simple happiness. The San Diego sunshine beamed down, bathing everything in a bright, soft light.

The morning began with Yoga for Cancer Recovery at lululemon. We've extended the series so, there will be two more Thursday 9am classes at the store. It is amazing (sorry to overuse the word but, it just fits) that a group of like-minded students meeting each week has turned into a little community already. I feel so blessed to be a part of something this special. When I return from Australia, we'll just move the beautiful group to a new, permanent location.

Today, I was contemplating how often I felt stuck this year. Just up against a brick wall, no progress, no options, no prospects. Sitting in the house recovering from surgery or chemo or the ailment of the day. I had to drop so many of my regular classes and clients because of cancer. At times, despite my best efforts, I worried a lot about what I was going to do once treatment was done. Would I be able to make up for lost time? Were all those opportunities lost to me forever? Faith in the unknown, prayers and love allowed me to believe that this unchosen path of breast cancer would lead me to something new. Something powerful, true, and life-changing.

I've known for a long time that I'm meant to teach and to write on a grand scale. I remember back to 1997, when I was so miserable practicing law that I would cry each morning in the shower on the way to work. I knew then that I wanted to teach yoga and to write, reaching as many people as possible. This path is leading me to doing so in ways I could never have envisioned. My life is full of beautiful opportunities.

And, if that isn't a silver lining, I don't know what is.

Fleeting moments on Paseo del Norte

I was reminded today how fragile life can be. Not in regard to myself but, in regard to the upsetting way my day began. I was meeting a new friend down in Cardiff to go for a walk and left the house in high spirits.

As I was driving down my street, I noticed an animal in the road. Honing my gaze, I realized that it was a cat. I promptly performed an illegal u-turn and pulled up next to him. I got out of the car to assess the situation and saw that the beautiful, chocolate and black tiger-striped kitty was indeed dead. His head was lying at an awkward angle, indicating a broken neck.

Because the person who hit him hadn't bothered to stop and at least move the cat out of the street so he wouldn't be pulverized, I did so. I grabbed one of my yogitoes out of the trunk and gingerly lifted up the beautiful boy. He was still warm so, it hadn't been long since his life had been unceremoniously snuffed out. I moved him to the grass beyond the sidewalk and left him wrapped in the pristine white blanket. I hope that his family found him. When I returned a few hours later, the blanket and kitty were gone.

So, this brings up a pet peeve of mine. I've been doing animal rescue for several years now. Often, when I speak to people wanting to adopt, they tell me that they "have to let their cats outside" for a variety of stupid reasons. No, you don't have to let the cats out. Or, they will get hit by a car or killed by a coyote. Keep the cat indoors!!!!

I wonder if the person who killed this cat even noticed that he'd hit something? Did he look in the rearview mirror and shrug his shoulders, oh well? Was he busy texting or talking on the phone? It breaks my heart.

Later, as I drove home on this same stretch of road, I was struck by how incredible the sky looked after sunset. It felt like I was entering a Monet landscape. Although my day had been colored with sadness for the cat I was too late to save, in that moment, I found profoundly grateful to be alive, to be able to enjoy the beauty of nature.

Jake and Oreo got extra big kisses when I walked in the door.

Feeling grateful

I've been feeling very grateful for all of the blessings in my life these days. One of the primary "silver linings" in this cancer ride comes in the form of the numerous amazing people that I've met or reconnected with since January. My friends have been incredible: supportive, kind, caring and consistent. I am so lucky to be buoyed up by all the positive energy directed my way.

And, I see the light at the end of the tunnel! As I cross off each day of radiation with my red pen, I feel lighter. 21 down, 15 to go. My skin is not happy with me at all. I've got some Aquaphor on right now and it is itchy and incredibly annoying. Nonetheless, red rash on one area of the body is still better than chemo side-effects.

Speaking of chemo side-effects: hair is sprouting at an incredible rate! Everywhere. Who would have believed that I would need a bikini wax before I needed an eyebrow wax? Believe it.

Todd rubs my fuzzy head, singing "Chia, Chia, Chia." And, I don't mind, even though it is silver and brown. My eyebrows are a rather strange charcoal color: again, better than no brows! And, my eyelashes are longer each time I look at them. Oddly, the upper lashes seem to be growing downward and the lower lashes are growing upwards. With any luck, in a few weeks, they will look lush again.

One of the highlights of the past few days was the Taste of Hope benefit for City of Hope and to honor the ambassador of Hope: my good friend Zoe Mohler. It was held in Coronado and was full of all kinds of gourmet food and wine. Shrimp, sliders, cupcakes and the best ice cream bonbons ever! And, Kiptyn from the Bachelorette was the Emcee, handing out roses. All for a good cause!

I'm grateful that because of lululemon's generosity, I can offer two additional weeks of Yoga for Cancer Recovery at the lululemon Carlsbad. And, my ambassador photo is up on the wall! I'm official.

On that note, time to wash the Ovation cell therapy off my chia-pet head.

Bald Bikini-clad lady Bicycling to Beach

Ahhh, the dilemma of the day was actually quite amusing. What the heck was I going to wear to cover my salt-and-pepper chia-pet head and radiation burned chest to go to the beach via beach cruiser?

The weather is pristine and there is no way I was missing out on the beach with Todd today. But, it was going to be a high-maintenance endeavor.

The issues:

1. Chest must be covered completely because of nasty radiation rash.

2. Need to wear lymphedema arm sleeve to ride bicycle and walk on beach.

3. Need to wear something to cover the head that wouldn't blow off as I cruised down the hill toward the beach. The wigs and hat hair just weren't viable. We have to cross the 5 Freeway and I could just see my wig or hat hair flying off into oncoming traffic. Is it a bird? a plane? or Britney or Gisele? Who cares because it caused a multi-car pile up.

For the bosom, I tried the rash guard. It is totally cute (see above) but it made me sweat in the house so, I could not imagine trying to sit on the beach with it. No. Next, I dug out my Corepower Yoga boot camp t-shirt and that worked. Yes. Unfortunately, my name is plastered on the back of it in neon yellow so, everyone from our house to the beach knows that the crazy bicycling bald lady with the weird arm's name is CLAIRE.

For the head, I borrowed Todd's buff to wear underneath my favorite Costa-Rican Imperial baseball cap. That way, if the hat blew off on the bicycle ride, I'd at least be covered.

The arm was just going to have to be ugly beige with glove.

It worked! See the complete ensemble above. Anyone who has EVER commented on my ego: take note!! I felt so free and happy cruising on the bicycle and walking on the beach with Todd. Cancer be damned. And, honestly, who would recognize me in that get-up?

Repercussions: sweating like a filthy animal on the return uphill bike ride. My head was drenched with sweat, as was the rest of me. But, it was worth it!

I'm not going to compare these photos to the bikini shots that I was posting back in January....again, slightly different look then Cabo with Kirsten. But, I was just as happy to be out on the beach today as I was then.

Two requests readers: If you have been reading my blog and haven't joined as a follower, I'd be thrilled if you became one. Also, if you have a comment or opinion, please feel free to comment on the blog! I love reading the comments. Thanks!!

A very good day

Today was fabulous. A reminder that even though I've had some seriously dark moments, it is so important to hold on because you just never know what tomorrow can bring. I'm always amazed at how true this premise is.

This morning I taught my 3rd of 4 Yoga for Cancer Recovery class at lululemon in Carlsbad. We had the biggest class yet with some "regulars" and some new faces. It went really well and the feedback continues to be positive. I love it! I met Angela, who is the co-founder of the Young Survival Coalition in San Diego, a group for young women dealing with cancer. http://www.youngsurvival.org/sandiego. I'd like to get more involved with them.

I'm also trying to figure out the best studio to hold ongoing classes when this series concludes next week. I'd like to offer weekly yoga for cancer recovery classes on a donation basis in North County. Very soon!

The sun continues to shine on San Diego and with each sunny day, my mood continues to lift. Radiation, no problem. Check-up with oncologist, piece of cake. Walk on the beach and a few margaritas with Lissa, fabulous!

I was thrilled to return home and find my Lymphedivas package. The two new sleeves are totally cute: much more attractive than the beige. Unfortunately, they sent me the wrong size gauntlet and I cannot wear the sleeve without the gauntlet. Waah! I want to wear my new sleeve to teach tomorrow. How funny is it to look back at how I wouldn't even look at the lymphediva website and now I'm upset that I can't wear my new sleeve soon enough. Interesting how things shift.....

And, tomorrow is Friday!

Rolling back up

Today was an absolutely beautiful day. Although I had to go pay $1252 to have three mysterious items repaired on my car, something about sensors and thermostats and valves, I didn't really feel upset. They did wash the car and polish the rims.

As seems to be the pattern, the rollercoaster ascends again. I'm going to have whiplash from all of the ups and downs on this ride. I guess it makes sense that some days are just totally black and depressing and seemingly hopeless. It is just the extremity of the dips and crests that continues to surprise me.

The sun was out early this morning: a beautiful, perfect summer morning. Such a relief after the heavy marine layer that has rendered San Diego a perfect movie set for Wuthering Heights or Pride and Predjudice. Over the gloomy weekend, I'd expected Heathcliff to come galloping out of the fog. Depressing.

I met with a new private yoga client today. She is a breast cancer survivor and wanted to start yoga to recuperate from the prior year of treatment. We had a great session and I think we will work really well together. I'm excited at the direction my career is taking. Funny that it took cancer to assist me in finding this niche. Don't get me wrong: I love teaching my Power yoga classes and will continue to do so but, I really feel like I can make a difference with this new group of clients.

Todd and I went for a long walk on the beach. It is so beautiful: I feel so lucky that I actually get to live here! Clear beautiful ocean, long stretches of golden sand and cool breezes. Perfect.

And, I wore the smaller size sleeve that I couldn't get on two months ago because my arm was so FAT. Yippee! I'm working on two weeks of a normal sized arm and now ready to start weaning slowly off the sleeve and stepping up the workouts. I actually feel like I'm in my own body again. Finally.

In terms of the radiation side-effects, my skin is really starting to pinken. The wise Lizzy advised me to use Emu oil and I ran out and snapped some up at Henry's. I used it right after my cooking this afternoon. Between that and the calendula lotion, I hope that my skin doesn't get burned too much more.

The end is in sight: September 15th. Counting down the days.

A thread

"Anyone can give up, it's the easiest thing in the world to do. But to hold it together when everyone else would understand if you fell apart, that's true strength." - author unknown

What an awesome quote at an absolutely auspicious time. It is interesting how my daily Morning Mantra emails are so often right on point. I'm trying really hard to hold it together. This weekend was really rough emotionally. I just feel like I'm scraping the bottom of the energy jar.

The thought that I keep returning to is that I'd like to just go to sleep until a few days before we head to Australia. Or, should I say, I'd like time to freeze because I don't want to miss any of the many positive things I've got going on over the next month.

I guess therein lies my answer, right? If I withdraw, I'll miss so much amazing living: teaching, spending time with Todd and my friends, planning Yoga for Hope, attending Taste of Hope this weekend, watching my hair, eyelashes and eyebrows grow back and and and....

Hot Flashes!

I'm having a hot flash. Not exactly how I envisioned my Saturday night. It starts with the back of my neck heating up. Literally. The heat then spreads down my back and creates a lovely film of sweat designed to make whatever I'm wearing stick to my back. You know, like when you are in Washington DC on any given summer day and leave your air-conditioned house and step into the 90% humidity and are instantly sticky? Well, I get to enjoy that feeling now in the comfort of my own San Diego home.

This is yet another one of those side-effects that is downplayed. Like losing your hair. "You'll have some hot flashes and may go into menopause about 10 years early." This is relayed to you in a casual laundry list of potential side-effects.

I'm cooling off. Thank goodness.

So, this photo shows my daily attire for radiation treatment. Please note my lovely sleeve and glove. For radiation, each day I walk back to the dressing room, lock the door and change into two robes. About one third of the time I end up pulling off my wig of the day in the process.

Speaking of wigs, you may notice that I am sporting a new look. The brilliant and incomparable Patti Joyce has created another masterpiece. I told her that I was about to throw Sheila at someone because with the heat she gets very uncomfortable and sticks to the back of my neck. I asked for one just like Sheila but, shorter and off of my neck. And, voila: here it is! I haven't named her yet. But, she is cooler and pretty cute and should get me through until my hair is long enough to go wigless. (the photo is kind of dark--it is the same pralines-n-cream color as Sheila)

The lovely Lori was kind enough to offer to take me to radiation because she was worried I might lose my last marble in the dreaded Scripps parking lot. Of course, there were plenty of open spots when she drove me. Not a crazy lunatic to be seen. No 90 year-olds honking and reversing across the lot at 60 mph. No back-up out onto Torrey Pines Road. It figures.

14 Radiations down.

22 to go.

Less than 5 weeks to Australia.

Hang on Petretti. Don't lose your mind when you are so close to the finish line....

City of Hope tour

Yesterday, I was lucky enough to be part of a tour of the City of Hope in Duarte, California. In March, I'll be chairing the inaugural Yoga for Hope in San Diego.

In these photos, we are standing in front of the gate that holds their motto:

There is no profit in curing the body if in the process we destroy the soul.

This really struck me because if anything can steal your soul and crush your essence, it is walking this walk. If only all cancer treatment centers operated the same way. City of Hope is truly a unique research and treatment facility. I'm not particularly eloquent this evening so, if you'd like to learn more: www.cityofhope.org.

They are pioneers in cutting-edge research for cancer, HIV and diabetes. This trio of diseases is extremely personal to me and I've been very emotional since actually setting foot on the 120 acre City yesterday.

The cancer is personal to me and to my sister who is a 5 year survivor (go Yael!).

The diabetes is personal to me as my oldest and best friend is a Type 1 diabetic.

The HIV is personal to me because I lost my brothers Paul and Andre to the disease. Paul was 27 years old when he passed, Andre was 34.

Today, I am truly feeling weighed down by all of these challenges and by all of the loss. I miss my brothers. I've got another 4 1/2 weeks of daily radiation and I just wish I could go to sleep and wake up and it would be over. I'd also like to wake up with my eyelashes returned to me. Every single long, black one of them.

I did squeeze in a lovely walk on the beach at Torrey Pines after acupuncture, prior to radiation. I could feel the healing ocean breeze caressing my skin, giving me strength to continue on with my treatment. It feels good to know that all I have to do over the next three days is teach class in the morning, get radiation, volunteer with the cats Saturday morning and that is it. Weekend time!

Holding steady

Paring down my schedule and adding in more daily exercise seems to be doing the trick. I'm feeling more balanced and a little less out of control. I'm so thrilled that I've been able to walk about an hour a day. I've missed it so much. Now that my legs don't feel like I hiked Everest, I feel more free.

Even more exciting is that my arm continues to hold steady at just-about-normal-size. Who knew how thrilling it would be to see my pointy elbow again? I'm continuing to add more activity for my upper body. In fact, at this rate I'll be a veritable Wonder Woman: I've built up to two sets of various exercises with 3-lb weights. Pretty funny. But, it is a start. I'm so grateful that I'm able to do something without the fear of my forearm and hand blowing up like a balloon. Slowly.

McCabe, my artist friend, came over to see if she could spice up my orthopedic beige sleeve. I was considering making it look like I have a full-sleeve tattoo on that arm! It could be fun for yoga! I plan on weaning off of the sleeve as soon as I can but, will wear it to workout for the foreseeable future: better safe than sorry. I would probably explode if I had to endure another 7 1/2 week blow-up again. Also, I know that I pooh-poohed lymphedivas.com in the past but, they have tons of cool styles: diamond trim. I stand corrected.

McCabe is also a scarf expert, yet another area where I am not gifted, and brought me a gorgeous scarf to wear with the hat hair. She tied it too. I'm hoping that I can just slip it on already tied because otherwise I might be in trouble. We are digging deep to find my inner bohemian chic. Very deep. I'm half-french for goodness sakes! You'd think I'd be gifted with scarves. Or chic.

So, week three of radiation is in full swing and it is starting to show. My skin is pink with small red polka-dots. Lovely. I'm slathering on calendula lotion at least four times a day to help counteract the radiation but, methinks the large beam will win. So, although I've got three fabulous new bikinis, I now need to cover up the top and make sure I don't get sun.

I can't believe that it is almost the middle of August. I wonder how I will feel next August when I reflect back upon 2010? At the moment, I don't have a clue. I've survived a lot of loss and ups and downs in my life but, making it through to the other side of this journey will definitely leave me a changed woman. Mind, body, spirit. I am truly grateful for everyone in my life: I'm blessed to have so much support and love surrounding me through this rollercoaster ride.

Sunshine works its magic

And, the rollercoaster ascends again. Not a moment too soon.

Kirsten and I met in Cardiff for a morning beach walk. The sun was shining, the ocean was a clear and stunning blue and it felt fabulous to be outside. The Cardiff beach walk used to be an at least bi-weekly ritual and it felt great to return to it. I've missed this type of time spent with my friends.

My legs are feeling stronger and each day I'm walking further. I'm thrilled! Yesterday Todd and I walked the whole lagoon for the first time in several months. And, my arm has been holding steady since Friday. Perhaps I've turned a corner with the lymphedema.

Now, it is time to go see if any more hair has sprouted.

Alive

So, I cannot sleep. Nothing new. More on that later.

So, here are two photos of me this morning and one of me pre-cancer. I know that these eyelashes and brows will come back one of these days but, this really stinks. So, one photo is the eye and eyebrow sans makeup. The other shot shows me with my drawn on brows and carefully crafted eye-makeup on one side. The shot with my friend Nikki shows me with eyebrows and my beautiful long lashes that I got courtesy of my dear papa.

They say eyes are the windows of the soul. My eyes now finally show what I didn't want to reveal to anyone unless it was my choice to do so. They scream that I am sick. Constantly red-rimmed, constantly puffy, no lashes, no brows. Nowhere to hide.

Doctors, nurses, everyone really keeps telling me the same thing: be grateful that you're alive! You are so young, all this is temporary, you'll live a long healthy life if you do as we say. Chemotherapy will destroy your ovaries and you'll be in early menopause but, you're alive! You'll lose your hair, your brows and lashes, you'll have scars and tattoos for a lifetime but, you're alive! You may get lymphedema and have to sleep in bandages or an incredibly tight compression sleeve but, you're alive! Who the hell knows what this daily radiation will do to you but, suck it up because you are alive! Take Tamoxifin for the next five years or else your odds of being alive sharply decline!

Back when this all began unfolding in its terrible, surreal way, I didn't want all these drugs. Of course I want to live but, at what cost? The irony is that they can't even tell me if I am cancer-free. Isn't that crazy? There are no guarantees and I am not certain that I've made the right choices following this surgery-chemo-radiation automaton. Back to that basic discussion of quality vs. quantity. The Short Happy Life of Claire Petretti or The Sick, Long Half-Life?

I've had the lyrics of Pearl Jam's Alive in my head for a while now. For some reason, today the volume continues to increase and I can't turn off the music.

Alive by Pearl Jam, excerpt

I, I'm still alive
Hey I, but, I'm still alive
Hey I, boy, I'm still alive
Hey I, I, I, I'm still alive, yeah
Ooh yeah...yeah yeah yeah...oh...oh...

"Is something wrong?" she said
Of course there is
"You're still alive," she said
Oh, and do I deserve to be?
Is that the question?
And if so...if so...who answers...who answers...?

I, oh, I'm still alive
Hey I, oh, I'm still alive
Hey I, but, I'm still alive
Yeah I, ooh, I'm still alive
Yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah yeah

Back to the Jeannie bottle

I want to hop into my cozy I dream of Jeannie bottle and not come out until September 16th. Why the 16th? Radiation ends the 15th and we leave for Australia on the 17th. That will give me a day to pack and prepare for the trip.

I'm feeling mentally exhausted right now. My physical energy is fine but, this mental and emotional battle I've been waging all year is sapping my strength. At times, I am silent yet screaming in my head. I wonder if people can tell? The final straw, yes there seem to be several of said final straws, is that last night I realized that I'd lost most of my eyebrows and at least three-quarters of my precious eyelashes.

Before you say, but you are alive!, yes, I know that I'm alive. And, I am grateful. Truly, I am grateful for my wonderful boyfriend, friends and family. But, unless you've gone through this treatment and endured so many crappy side-effects, you cannot understand how upsetting it is when these very visible symbols that you are sick keep slapping you in the face. Kind of like the hot flash that is drenching the back of my tank top as I write this.

I'm like a Monet painting: look great from far away and then you focus and notice that the eyebrows are painted on like the Fairfax Hospital cafeteria lady, that there are about 10 eyelashes total between both eyes, that the hair is a wig and that there is a ugly beige sleeve and glove on my right arm and hand. And, possible sweat stains from a hot flash.

Mind you, it took 10 minutes to put on said eyebrows and individually apply mascara to the sparse, long spindly lashes. How did they fall out six weeks after chemotherapy? I made the grave error of going online to research this distressing issue and instead of finding an answer found some information that taxotere, one of the chemo drugs I was fed, can cause permanent hair loss. Fantastic.

Let's see, on a positive note: my arm looks the best today than it has in the seven weeks that I've been dealing with this lymphedema. Perhaps it is finally going to stabilize and allow me to continue increasing my exercise and walk around bare-armed.

So, Jeannie bottle, here I come. I'm tired of this daily battle and just want to go to sleep and wake up next month. Hopefully with some lashes, brows and hair.

Riding the waves

Fluctuations seem to be dominating these days. One minute, I feel calm, peaceful and centered and the next moment melancholy descends. I guess the good news is that these shifts are fleeting and I am confident that they will pass.

On a positive note, the first Yoga for Cancer Recovery class at lululemon went great this morning. I was lucky enough to have a fellow teacher, Irina, assist me. Seven students came and I am hopeful that they enjoyed the class as much as I enjoyed teaching it. Patti, my wonderful wig lady, came and loved it! I'm so thrilled that I could give back a little bit to her. I can't wait for next week, same bat time, same bat channel. I also learned that there is another class offered at the Cancer Center in Encinitas on Tuesday mornings so, I'm going to partake in that one next week.

On a less positive note, once a week, I get weighed and meet with the doctor to check in on how I am feeling. I don't understand why they weigh me? Are they afraid they might fry too many pounds off of me? As I drove through McDonalds, yes McDonalds, this afternoon, I don't think there is any danger of me wasting away. I've been doing a lot of emotional eating this week: goes with the fluctuations I suppose! The good news is that I could taste the salt on the McDonalds french fries. Hallelujah!! The taste buds are back!

I digress. I had an interesting conversation with my Radiation Oncologist this afternoon. When he asked me how my energy levels were, I replied that they were great, probably because of all the supplements I'm taking. Well, he and the nurse jumped on the supplement soapbox. They informed me that I could take a multivitamin but, not take any antioxidants. Apparently, radiation is oxidizing and the antioxidants could prevent it from working. Really. Seriously, I cannot fathom how the death rays could be thwarted by some antioxidants.

Wouldn't that be like me trying to fight off an armored tank with a slingshot? I don't buy it and I am going to continue to take them.

Actually, my energy level is most likely attributable to the acupuncture that I've been receiving. And, it is only the second week of radiation. I understand that it is cumulative and I've got five and one/half weeks to go.

What may kill me is the parking lot at Scripps. It is a perilous lot, with at least half the drivers too blind to see, too drugged up to drive or too upset to navigate. I swear, if Seinfeld were still on the air, the Scripps parking lot would serve as fodder for at least a week of episodes. I need a chauffeur! But, I better make sure I'm dropped off right at the curb or one of the aforementioned vehicles will run me down.

Tomorrow is Friday!

Affirmations

Everything you say is an affirmation. Everything you think is an affirmation. Everything! What you want to do is to get control of what you are saying and thinking, so these things bring you good experiences in life rather than rotten experiences. Louise Hay

I love this quote from Louise Hay. Come to think of it, I love several quotes from Louise Hay: brilliant woman. With what I've been experiencing this year, I'm finding it increasingly important to make sure that I'm very careful where I allow my thoughts to go. If I am not careful, I can spiral downward at an alarming rate.

An example? The swelling in my hand from the lymphedema can completely freak me out in a flash. When it was really bad a few weeks ago, I was convinced that I would be completely disabled with my writing hand, never write again, never wear a ring, never want to talk with my hands again. Mind you, my father has joked that if my hands were tied behind my back, I wouldn't be able to talk because I tend to gesture so wildly to emphasize a point. Not an exaggeration.

So many factors work to drag me out of a positive mindset: the isolation in not being able to do a lot of my favorite things with my favorite people. The isolation in not feeling like leaving the house because it is too much effort to pencil on eyebrows and select a wig or hat. The isolation in avoiding talking to people because all I can talk about is the damn arm or radiation or growing hair or something connected to the cancer.

This morning was a rough one. I didn't sleep at all last night between the night sleeve squeezing me and Oreo howling all evening. It is time for his steroid shot because he is obviously not feeling well. That is another story.

So, being sleep deprived tends to depress me. All I wanted to do was hole up in my house. I went so far as half-heartedly trying to find a sub for my noon yoga class. Luckily, I did go teach and once again, the Frogs yogis were responsible for lifting my mood. It is truly amazing what all that positive energy does for me. Is that selfish? I can only hope that it is truly reciprocal.

In the spirit of Louise Hay: I will be diligent in choosing my affirmations. I will sleep peacefully for at least eight straight hours tonight. I will have lovely dreams. I will awake tomorrow feeling refreshed and happy.

Ovation!

Not much to say when the photos say it all.

Exhibit 1: My sleeve and lovely "Oliver Twist" fingerless glove on display in Beverly Hills with Joanna. I wish you could see it live. It is hideous, uncomfortable and hot. I cannot wait until I can say goodbye to it forever.

Exhibit 2: Ovation Cell Therapy! Grow hair, grow! So, you slather on the coconut-smelling concotion all over your scalp and leave it on for a few hours. So, I utilized the shower cap that I swiped from the Laguna B&B last week. For everyone who has asked how Todd is handling all of this: this is the Claire that he gets to enjoy behind closed doors. No wig, barely any eyebrows and a shower cap over my big bald head. Ahhhh, the romance, the beauty, the reality.

I swear that several hundred more little hairs sprouted after I rinsed off my head. I can't wait to hae a full, shiny head of hair again. Grow, grow, grow!!

Sunday evenings

Sunday evenings always seem to be a time for reflection for me.

I just returned from a quick trip up to La-la land to see Joanna and Angie to celebrate all three of our birthdays. As always, it was wonderful to catch up and hang out with two of my best friends! I made them both try on my Solaris night sleeve so they could get a feel for my new sleeping attire. I also made them go for a walk with me in my orthopedic stocking-looking sleeve and fingerless glove. In Beverly Hills, no less. That's what friends are for, right?

Actually, I had lots of time to reflect while driving up and back. Sadly, I was not kissed by the karma fairy in the traffic department. It was nasty bumper to bumper both ways. Between the bouts of mind-numbing brake riding and careening eighty miles an hour down the highway, I managed to process some thoughts that have been circling around in my brain.

With about half of my classes on hold for the foreseeable future, I've got more time and less money on my hands. Inverse of what one would usually seek. Part of me had the knee-jerk reaction to reach out and call studios and pick up classes elsewhere pronto! Work, work, work. But, listening to my gut, I know this isn't the right thing to do. I am starting the Yoga for Cancer Recovery at lululemon this week and will be teaching that weekly for August. I want these classes to be really special and that is a primary focus.

My dance card is rather full with daily radiation field trips taking roughly two hours altogether, including driving time. Ten hours a week: that feels like a part-time job! And, another few hours working with my acupuncturist to free-up the lymph node blockage. Five to seven lymphatic self-massages a day: another forty five minutes. No wonder the thought of taking on new classes seems formidable.

Epiphany: I need to just chill out and teach my current classes until I'm done with radiation treatment. People keep telling me that I'll be exhausted the last few weeks of treatment. I already feel a weird wave of nausea/tiredness each time I've stepped off the radiation table. But, I'm taking a whole slew of new, very expensive supplements, designed to help me rebuild my immune system and battle these side-effects. I'm getting tired just thinking about it.

I'm supposed to start my first coaching class tomorrow. And, I don't feel particularly enthusiastic, which worries me. Usually, I am the big dork, sharpened pencils, new notebooks and fresh highlighters, ready to absorb new information. Especially because I believe that the coaching education will be invaluable for me in my quest to help others down the line. But, I'm just not feeling it right now. How can I do well if I'm not excited? I am notorious for acing any class that interests me and just not caring about the others. I'm seriously considering calling CoachU tomorrow and postponing everything until early 2011. My mind and heart don't feel engaged.

I really just feel like focusing on teaching yoga, developing a cool program for yoga for cancer recovery above and beyond the August series, working with City of Hope planning the landmark event Yoga for Hope and writing. I'm feeling the pull to dig out my half-finished romance novel, yes, romance novel, and completing it. It is set in Laguna Beach and I've got Laguna fresh on my mind after Todd and I's wonderful trip there last week. Azure ocean, emerald green trees and bouganvilla to spare.

We'll see what Monday brings.