Journey back to a new reality

I think that I may finally be feeling like myself. What a transition!

So, I highly recommend that anyone completing treatment for any kind of cancer should hightail it out of town for a vacation afterwards. Somewhere that you will be present and engaged, without pesky distractions like hospital gowns. I'm still riding the high from our trip to Australia. The last nine months really seem like a faraway dream.

This week marks a return to a "regular" work schedule. I must admit that this is harder than I realized. First of all, it isn't viable for me to return to several of the classes and clients that I had to leave this year. I am mourning the communities at active.com and Sculpt Fusion Yoga, where I am no longer a regular fixture. The people have been fabulous and supportive and I want to be there in the capacity that I was pre-cancer but, it isn't looking like an option.

Many other doors have opened and are opening and for that, I am grateful and happy. I love starting fresh and having that excitement and anticipation of growth. Lord knows I've done it enough! And, knowing that I am not the same as I was in January when this all began means that I am not returning to my old life. Instead, I am launching into a new life, whether I am ready for it or not. Even if I did go back to my exact former schedule, too much has changed.

I'm still a little shocked when I catch my reflection in the mirror and see the champagne blonde cropped hair! Who is that tough, chic creature? Talk about changed. But, it is so freeing to leave the house without it even occurring to me to cover my head. Fabulous.

If I focus too much on what the future holds, I feel overwhelmed and not a little bit fearful. So, I remind myself to take it day by day and live in the present. My intent this week is to do that, no matter what. One of my daily intentions is to exercise for an hour each day, no matter what. I need to rebuild my physical strength and fortify my mental clarity and emotional calmness.

So far, two yoga classes and a hellish hour (seemed like ten) in Pure Barre on Monday. The two yoga classes have not alleviated the incredible soreness I am experiencing in my entire derriere yet. Ouch! I should be able to walk normally by Friday and plan on hitting Pure Barre again. Pure Barre La Costa is offering free classes to cancer survivors for the entire month of October. Generous and amazing.

Tomorrow I may make it to Zumba finally! Because now I can!

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.

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!

Dominique has a fabulous day!

And the winner is.....Dominique! Thanks Arch, for your creative vision.

Dominique's inaugural excursion was a smashing success. She taught pilates, went out to lunch, shopped, and even did some laundry, all in sassy style. Whereas I still feel self-conscious in Sheila or sometimes even in one of the hat-hairs, Dominique is so radically different then Claire that I felt liberated.

So, whether it is the fact that I am almost two weeks out from Round 4 and physically stronger each day or that life as a redhead is just more exciting, I feel good today. I feel more connected. That vague feeling of isolation is lifting and my mind and heart feel stimulated.

I committed to teaching a yoga class beginning in July, at a studio where I've always wanted to teach, Yoga Swami. I feel blessed for the connection that created the opportunity. Thank you Katie!

And, I took another step forward in taking my career to the next level. The final piece of the puzzle, you could say. I attended an informational call with Coach U, a life coaching training school. For many years, I've been interested in adding coaching to my arsenal, as a natural extension of teaching yoga and pilates and seeking to help others. It sounds like an amazing program that won't interrupt my teaching and writing schedule, only complement it.

Why add a coaching credential?

I'd like to help others who have gone through a life-changing crisis, like cancer or AIDS or losing a loved one. I'd like to help pave the way back from darkness to one filled with light. To reconnect with the physical body, the heart and the mind. I'd also like to help motivate those who just feel generally stuck and need encouragement and a plan to implement a professional or personal transformation. Coaching just gives some more structure and tools to the process.

So many people I've encountered have no idea where to start, how to rebuild, how to recreate a life after a crisis. One thing I know is change! If I can share lessons from my experiences, if I can make a difference, if I can heal in some small way, I am fulfilled. Mind, body and spirit.

Now, need to continue working on my own healing.

Spot on my Liver. Really???!!!!

I love all the comments. Jessie--I like the idea of 9 months of gestation to baby Claire. Although, I'd kind of liked me pre-rebirth but, what the heck.

Warning: I feel bad. Really bad. And, I'm gonna vent it. There is also some good. Let's see. Gratitude first.

I am very happy that my dad, brother and sister are in town to see me. We've had a great visit so far. It was a beautiful day and we went to La Jolla. We also went to Lululemon so they could see WHAT Lululemon is, what it stands for in the community and my life and most importantly, where my photo would be on the wall. HA! It was wonderful to be able to share that part of my life with them.

We also ate yummy meals at Georges and Third Corner, respectively.

Now to the bad part. So, my oncologist phones me today. Personally. Mind you, I get almost daily calls from Scripps for scheduling, test results and the like. Today, my oncologist picked up the phone, herself, and called me. This is not a good sign.

A little background: I had some horrible tests yesterday. The Breast Cancer Gene test. They sucked out a bunch of blood. A Chest X-Ray, not so bad. A CT and PET Scan that were a nightmare. My friend Zoe accompanied me (and took some photos--where are they Zoe??) and was planning to stay with me. Having someone there makes it more palatable.

Well, not for these tests. They take you into a room, sit you in a chair, and inject a radioactive isotope with dye. Zoe was not allowed to stay. I could not read. I could not talk on the phone. I could not move. I had to sit, completely still, in a chair with this IV sticking out of my arm for 45 minutes. Well, you can only imagine how the mind wanders. I kept thinking of my late brother Andre, the hemophiliac, who spent about a day per month in the hospital for all of his 34 years. How did he endure it?

I sat there and bawled. Alone. For 45 minutes.

Next, they take you and stick you into the coffin-like machine for the two tests. The first one is feet first and the second is head first. Again, you cannot move.

Insult to injury: You have to fast for 6 hours. I hate being deprived of food. I need to be fed every few hours or it is not pretty. Zoe is a saint. She went and bought me lunch. With a big chocolate donut. Sugar be damned. I shoveled all of the healthy stuff and the donut and almost felt human. Almost.

So, now for the bad part. My doctor was calling to tell me that the CT/PET results concerned not only her but, two radiologists as well. There is a 9mm spot on my liver. She said that at first she wasn't worried, that it looked subtle to her and could be a birthmark or maybe something benign. But, after the second radiologist read it and also expressed concern, they want to do a super-special MRI of my abdomen with an Invitriol?? to find out what it is. Great. The liver is the first place where anything metastasizes.

She called me because she didn't want to wait until our appointment on the 8th. She doesn't want to lose another week. Treatment apparently will be very different if this liver issue is cancer. The liver. All I can think about is all that beer and grain alcohol at UVa. Did I have one jello shot too many 20 years ago?

I did tell her that I had accepted I needed chemo and was ready to go. She asked what days worked for me and I told her Fridays, so I could recuperate over the weekend and minimize my time away from teaching. Teaching helps maintain a shred of sanity. She said she'd get it scheduled and we should start my first round on the 12th of March. Unless this liver spot is something serious.

Each time I accept or resign myself to the horror of this, something worse happens. I finally process all the information on chemotherapy and agree to it and now this. I don't know how much longer I can keep it together. I really don't. Where will this end? What the hell will they want to do if it is in my liver? How strong am I supposed to be?

Maybe it is time to sell my car and travel and just enjoy how I feel now, for however long it lasts. The idea tempts me. Todd? Jake and Oreo? Anyone?

Misadventures in the Mystic booth...

I am officially losing my marbles. The last one has hit the floor folks. My little episode this evening confirmed it but, the little episode tonight saved me from a complete meltdown. There is always a trade-off. Quid pro quo...I do remember some legalese....I laughed so hard at myself that it got me out of my head for a bit.

After a relaxing weekend in the winter wonderland that is Mammoth, I had one important task tonight. To get a tan. A mystic tan. My long-awaited ambassador photo shoot for lululemon is Tuesday morning and I want to look my best. I'm not sure why this photo is so symbolic for me but, it really is. Strength, power, beauty.

One negative aspect to a vacation weekend was that I had too much time to think. And, the path my mind traveled was not a pretty one. Morbid, dark, morose, shades of black. I am officially freaking out. I don't know if it is just really hitting me now that I have CANCER but, I'm not quite sure how I am going to keep it together until my surgery Friday. Until I swim to the surface out of anethesia around 5pm, I will not know if the cancer has spread. The doctors cannot know until they biopsy the sentinel lymph node prior to the lumpectomy whether this evil alien has spread its seed. No pressure. I'll be fine until Friday.

And, I've tried the Xanax to sleep and I do not love how it makes me feel. At all. No more of that. I will take a Valium on Friday pre-surgery but, that is it. Maybe the Xanax has an after-effect of lowering my IQ?

Okay, enough of my morbidity. Here's the funny story.

I used to be the mystic tan master. I've been going into that Porta-potty-looking booth that sprays you and leaves you a lovely golden tan for years. I was one of the originals because I was so thrilled that I could look tan without getting any sun damage. Over the years, I learned all the little tricks to avoid getting streaked hands, orange feet and all the other potential side-effects that occur if you are not vigilant with your exfoliation, your barrier cream, your hand position.... I could go on forever. No mistakes here.

Granted, I haven't gotten a mystic tan in a while. Just been too busy drinking wheatgrass and being felt-up by hospital employees. Regardless, the blunder I made tonight was a first.

I was distracted. I brought a bikini bottom but, it never made it out of my purse.
Forgot it. Oblivious to that little snafu, I was in the booth, shower cap in place, ready to get golden. I pushed the Start button.

Cold spray shot out from the nozzles, covering me from head to toe. I looked down and screamed.

My bra. was. on. my. boobs. I'd forgotten to take off my bra and forgotten to put on my bikini bottom!

I managed to rip the offending garment off and tossed it on the floor of the booth. Of course, I'd asked for the bronzing version of the tan and my bra turned a lovely shade of bronze. Oops....I hope I caught it in time or I'll have some funny strap marks in my photographs.

Yes, that was the last marble.

The WheatGrass Conspiracy

Rereading yesterday's entry helps me appreciate how much better I feel today. Yoga helped. I had a few moments during my practice where I almost cried and that felt right. The magic of yoga releasing the stored toxins, the stored emotions and the trauma that needed to exit my system.

I admit that I had another tearful moment in Dandasana, staring down at my cleavage. It looked so pretty. I'm realizing that I'm very attached to the girls. It is part of my identity, my femininity, my body image; one of the few physical traits I share with my sister and mom. Is that shallow? I think it is deeper than that. (despite this photo from Cabo :))

When I had my artificial disc replacement surgery about 15 months ago, I was struck by how threatened I was knowing that the surgeon would be slicing into the front of my throat. Can you say invasive? It feels the exact same way knowing that they'll be wielding the scalpel on my right breast. For some reason, if it were my leg or something on my backside, it wouldn't be so identity-shaking.

I had a beautiful morning. The sun is shining again in San Diego and all feels right with the world. The storming and hailing last week contributed to my challenges. I'm such a weather wimp, which is probably why I transplanted from Virginia after college. Part of my relocation deal was sunny, in the 60s and 70s. All the time. Period. If there is rain, I should be able to stay inside, under a blanket on the couch.

My dear friend Nikke (in last post's photo of me pouting) met me at Swamis and we went for a long walk on the beach. An epic swell is in town due to all the storms so, the surf was powerful and waves crashed to shore. In addition to the seagulls and those little birds with long skinny legs (anyone know their ornithology?), a majestic pelican sat at the edge of the surf. He looked like a beautiful, wise old guru. I've never seen one sit there on the beach like a king amongst his subjects. Magical. I believe that animals have meaning and I looked up the Pelican: forgiveness. Interesting.

After the healing walk by the ocean, we hit Swamis for a yummy, healthy brunch. Christa, my awesome nutritionist, told me to take shots of wheat grass at any opportunity. Generally, I've interpreted that to mean if I don't see a billboard posted saying DRINK WHEATGRASS NOW! I can avoid it.

Well, much to my chagrin, Swamis had a giant wheat grass sign. Right there on the counter where you order. In plain sight. I couldn't avert my gaze fast enough. Darn it! Nikke took one for the team and we both got a shot. I'm sorry people but, it is gross, gross, gross. Chills shot from the top of my scalp, down my spine, to the tips of my toes. I cringe just remembering it. I mean, they have a patch of grass sitting on the counter and they cut it in front of you. I felt like a spoiled rabbit. Ordering my lunch at the counter.

Alright, enough rambling. New Orleans vs. Minnesota is on!

Ebb and flow....

Ahh, ebb and flow. Shadow and light. Good and evil. All those dichotomies. I've got to say, I'm definitely ebbing today. I guess it all a natural process, right?

Yesterday afternoon I hit the wall. Not literally, although I am a clutz and whack myself often, but this time it was just a figurative wall of concrete although it felt just as solid. The adrenaline and manic pace of the last few weeks really took its toll. I realized that when I arrived home that I hadn't just sat down and relaxed all week. Non-stop appointments, information overload, obsession with green food and stress plain and simple. Doesn't make for a steady Claire.

Relaxing last night was good. Todd and I watched the Haiti telethon and wow, did that put things in perspective. It is so difficult to get my head around the reality of the damage in that beaten down country. It is hard not to wonder why a culture, a vibrant people like the Haitians would have to endure that punishment. And, it is inspiring to see the world helping, to see the optimism in the face of such tragedy.

Anyway, back to me. It does feel rather selfish but, I started this blogging journey and will finish it. I have my surgery date of February 5th. It is outpatient; they say I should be back to yoga and Pilates the next day. I don't think they know the kind of yoga we do at Sculpt Fusion and Frogs!! But, I'll have the weekend to recover and then plow into February. I believe there is a four week reprieve prior to beginning radiation treatment for 7 weeks. 5 days a week. Ugh.

Right now, I am toast. I don't know how I'll have the energy for the next few months. I was a hot mess in the grocery store with the pressure to find the organic zucchini. Like one regular zucchini will make or break me. All I want right now is a brownie.

My highlight today was teaching the complimentary yoga class at lululemon in Carlsbad. It was my inaugural class as ambassador and it was fantastic. Several of my regular students, friends and the wonderful lulu family showed up to show support and it felt good. Thank you, thank you, thank you for all the love.

But, I need my own yoga now. I'm going to head to yoga at 4pm and I hope it will settle the angst I feel roiling beneath the surface. It is a visceral feeling in my belly at the moment: maybe I'm just starting to hit the reality of my diagnosis. Lord knows Denial has been my middle name before.

Here's to the upward trend again.....

Later that same day.....the power of yoga

To everyone who has reached out to me: wow. I am humbled and grateful. Keep it coming!!

It is amazing what both Pilates and Yoga do for me. I know I preach it to all my students, all the time but, it is true. I spent an hour at the Pilates studio and just tuning in simply to breath and movement helped clear my mind a lot. And, relax my pounding heart. An hour of yoga with Todd (yes, Todd!!) was awesome. I've never actually held hands with anyone in Savasana. I highly recommend it.

I'm scared. But, I feel stronger and I know I will handle this. When I figure out just why I have to handle another tough challenge....I will let you know. All this experience with death and disease has to come to some good, right?

Next week is the photo shoot for my lululemon ambassador photo. I'm really excited, not to just have my big head up on the wall at the store but, to have a positive focus this week. I'm shifting that focus to eating super healthy and clean not to fight the cancer but, to feel strong and powerful for my photo. I'm stepping up my yoga and Pilates even more for every reason.

It may seem shallow or silly to some but, memorializing myself looking powerful, beautiful(hair and makeup willing), and strong as a yogi in the setting by the magical ocean I love so much, feels very symbolic. I'm lucky to have this happening now. To all the lululemon family: thanks so much for your blessings and support. To all the lovely people in my life: thanks for this support I couldn't have imagined.

Not such a good day....

Okay, I guess this is part of the rollercoaster ride. Upon waking this morning, I could feel it: not going to be one of my energetic, adrenaline filled days. Yesterday was a flurry of Pure Barre (ouch!) and consuming an amazing book given to me by a colleague and friend about Natural Medicine and Cancer. It is fantastic. I liked it because it discusses using both natural/holistic methods in combination with medical treatment. I’ve received a great deal of well meaning advice about how to treat my cancer. All I can say is that this is not the time for me to rub herbs on my boob, chug kale shakes and hope the lump goes away. I want the lump gone. Period. Out of me. And, I will eat super, super clean too.

Bad morning appointment. Bad, bad, bad. I went alone to see the Radiation Oncologist today. Now I understand why everyone told me to always bring someone with you to the appointments. Lesson learned.

The doctor told me that based on the MRI from Friday (yes, me in tennis shoes, gown, face down with boobs in slots and a big headset), the cancer is Stage 2 because of the size. He says it is 3cm, not 1.6cm. Double what showed up on the ultrasound. Now normally, we Southern Californians see the bigger the better in the bosom region. Not for this one. There are also a couple teeny little "satellites" near the big old lump.

A newer test, the BSGI, the “97% accurate test” is tomorrow. This, again, may show if there are teeny little lumps that didn't show up on other tests. We looked at my prior mammograms and although you cannot see it from September 2009, he thinks it was there, just hidden by the dense tissue. How reassuring....

The appointment with the surgeon, Dr. Kurtzahls, is Wednesday 2:45pm and I guess we will be scheduling my lumpectomy at that time. I imagine it will be in the next few weeks. Then, you wait 4 weeks before radiation starts. That is 7 weeks.

They told me I get a free boob lift out of this. No questions asked. Silver lining.

Readers Digest Version of the first week...(kind of long, sorry)

I must retrace my steps in order for this all to make sense. Once upon a time, in a sleepy Southern California town…

It is 4:34 a.m. on January 9, 2010. I can't sleep. I have to say that it has not been the most auspicious beginning to 2010. I’ve got my right boob all taped up after a biopsy that was not fun at all. The instrument the doctor used sounded like a staple gun and it fired loudly with each chunk of flesh it removes. Hello?! Couldn’t they you use a silencer?

After my mammogram and ultrasound, the doctor entered the room to inform me that they had me scheduled for a biopsy in a few hours. Not scary news at all. The biopsy doctor was very nice and very blunt. She told me that the irregular shape of the lump made it very worrisome and most likely cancerous. I cannot believe this is happening. My 2010 vision board said that this supposed to be my year to regain my health, not the year that I get cancer. How can this be?

The minute I finished the biopsy and saw my boyfriend Todd, I burst into tears. The doctor had asked me if I wanted anxiety medication but, I demurred. I wanted to go to the beach and watch the breathtaking sunset and get some love from the ocean. It always calms me.

But, I did need a drink. A stiff drink. Not my usual method of handling stress but, in the circumstances, I think it wasn’t out of line.

We stopped at the liquor store in Del Mar. As I perused my choices, I realized that I couldn't get a large beer because I'd be full before I would be able to take the edge off of my news. So, I chose a Mikes Hard Lemonade. In a quart bottle. We dressed it up with a plain paper bag and as my boyfriend Todd drove us through the charming village of Del Mar, I was chugging it. Yes, chugging it out of a brown paper bag. This is one of the first moments that I wished for a video camera. I turned down Xanax for some malt liquor. I am happy to report that it did the trick. And, watching the sunset with my love also helped. ( the “my love” reference is for Todd, not the Mikes Lemonade, in case you were wondering)

1:41am January 14, 2010: Okay, the waking up in the middle of the night is getting old.

As suspected, it is cancer. Boy, my propensity for always being right, at least in my own mind, sure isn’t serving me right now. I did not have a good feeling from the day I found the lump and I was right. Imagine that. I think that trait served me better in my law school days....

Monday wasn’t a bad day waiting for the confirmation. I taught my Pilates class, kicked my own butt working out in the Pilates studio, taught yoga and chilled in the afternoon. Taught another yoga class at Agility Studio and came home and soaked up The Bachelor. Ahh, cheesy TV. I can't help it--it is about the only show I ever watch and I find it highly entertaining. I was asked to be a contestant on it a few years back but, that is another story. I turned that one down. I think they were setting me up to be the cougar....HA!

How I got the news: Tuesday Morning, January 12: 8:20am—I am running late for my Tuesday morning yoga class and was almost to the exit on the highway. I get the phone call that will probably forever alter my life. The doctor told me that she had gotten the pathology results and that they were positive; there was cancer present. Wow. No details, that isn’t her specialty and I had been set up for an appointment on Wednesday at 11:15 am at the Surgery Center. She asked if I was going to have someone to spend some time with that day as she didn’t think I should be alone. Well, no. Probably not a good idea.

Next dilemma: how the hell was I going to teach my class, in 5 minutes? But, then I realized that I love my class, I love teaching yoga and I was just going to do it. I left Todd a message on voicemail. He was in Colorado and I think received the news right before a big client presentation. Probably not my most considerate move but, hey, I've been told I can be selfish....

I told Kim, who owns Sculpt Fusion Yoga, as I arrived and got a big hug. Which was nice. One of my favorite students, Helene, was there and she knew too so, the support felt tangible. Everything just flowed in class and it was beautiful. A little chatter after my class and prior to the 10am class and then I was diving in to some yoga. Teacher Jenn kicked my and everyone’s booty and I spent a good portion of the class in child’s pose. Yow. But, it had to have been better than not taking class, right? I am writing like a third grader but, that is okay for right now. I will let go of my University of Virginia English major status for present.

After yoga, for some reason, I thought that going to get a manicure/pedicure was the best idea. And, it was. For some reason, grooming really calms me down and perks me up. And, my friend Kirsten came and joined me. Girl time rocks.

Well, there was some encouraging news. It is Stage 1, at least as of now, until/unless they find it moved anywhere else. I've got to have some more diagnostic tests to find that out. Already discussed the MRI and now I've got a BSGI scheduled for Tuesday morning. That test should show if the pesky cancer cells have traveled around. Surgery probably won't happen for another 3-5 weeks--just lots of testing and fun in between. Oy. They also don't know yet if it will be lumpectomy and radiation, the "M" word (I seriously hope not) or if chemo will be involved. No. Don't want that at all. I plan on eating all my veggies, finally, and hope that helps.

They do keep reassuring me that if the "M" does happen that they have fabulous plastic surgeons and it is included....or if the lumpectomy, they tighten and lift it up a bit. I asked if they would also do that for the left one and apparently, you can get a free boob lift out of this. Finally..the silver lining....perky girls until I'm 80.

My Latest Journey: Finding the Silver Lining in my diagnosis of breast cancer

DAY 13
Welcome to my first entry about the latest trial and tribulation in the life of Claire Petretti. I hope that by blogging my journey with this disease that I will help not only myself, but also others. I’ve got no clue if that is possible but, it is worth a shot. My intent is to try to find the silver lining. At present, the outlook appears dark.

On January 2nd, while putting lotion on after taking a shower, I found a lump in my breast. It felt like someone had inserted a marble under my skin. An alien marble. An interloper. It felt absolutely wrong. Immediately, I knew that it was serious.

Sunday crawled at a snail’s pace.

After today’s entry, I will go back and fill in the first 12 days. I've been waking up at 1 or 2am and writing because I can't sleep. I especially need to share Diagnosis Day: via phone 10 minutes prior to teaching my 8:30am yoga class.

Today’s MRI was my least favorite, well, oops, my second least favorite test of the last few weeks. The needle biopsy last week was terrible and I have the black and yellow bruises to prove it. Today, however, I was dreading the discordant cacophony emanating inside the MRI chamber. Gunfire, jackhammer, 1980s speed-metal, take your pick. When I had an MRI of my neck a few years ago, I was convinced that my brain was being drained by the alien sounding noise. Think Matrix. Stealing your brain through the ear.

So, I was prepared for that. Not happy but, nevertheless prepared. Being subjected to this seemingly endless myriad of tests makes me feel like a science experiment. Or, that I've been captured by the above-referenced aliens and they are testing me to see if they'll just dissect me for parts or if I may be worthy for breeding little half-aliens. As you can tell, the MRI’s deafening coffin-like interior is not designed for those with a vivid imagination.

My fun began with an IV being inserted into my arm for the purpose of injecting dye into my system. Apparently, that is how things show up on the MRI. Nobody told me about the IV. I hate needles. In the past, nurses would laugh at me because I had to lie down anytime I gave blood or I would faint. It would have been nice to receive a warning about the ink injection.

As I am not blessed with a poker face, I could not pretend like I didn’t mind. It hurt. It grossed me out. And, again, it made me feel like a specimen. But, the fun was yet to come. For a breast MRI, you open up your robe and lay with your boobs hanging down into two slots and your face smushed into a massage table head rest. Let me tell you, this failed to resemble any massage I've ever had.

Picture me face down with tennis shoes and socks peeking out from the robe. Arms stretched overhead with the IV protruding out. To complete my ensemble, the technician stuffed a pair of giant headphones from the 80s onto my head to provide music. Where is a good photographer when you need one? I'm determined to find that silver lining each step of the way. The best I can do here is appreciate that the first song was Somewhere Around Midnight, one of my favorites. Unfortunately, it couldn't drown out the horrible brain-sucking sounds of the MRI machine.

Test ended. IV removed. OUCH. Red tape wrapped around my bandaged arm.

Since my diagnosis, everyone tells me to avoid sugar. That it causes cancer cells to multiply, that it is the breeding ground for everything from the devil to yes, cancer. And, I've been good so far.

Distraught after this fourth test in less than a week, I proceeded directly to the closest bakery. Sporting a large welt across my forehead from the machine, I must have looked more forlorn and pathetic than I realized because the bakery lady allowed me to not only select my cinnamon roll, she warmed it up and added extra frosting. Said cinnamon roll was approximately the size of my head. My head is large. Size Large hat large. It was the perfect fuel for teaching my 10:35 am yoga class at Frogs Encinitas. I won't have any sugar tomorrow, promise. I don't want to get cancer or anything.

Okay, I'm going to read now. Something unrelated to this disease. Tomorrow I'll return to fill in all the details from the doctor's exam, the mammogram, the ultrasound, and the biopsy the same day, the combination of which culminated in me chugging a Mike's Hard Lemonade. From a quart bottle. Housed in a brown paper bag.

An overwhelming thank you to everyone in my life for the generous outpouring of love and support. I am amazed, humbled and blessed to have such a powerful circle around me and I need and love each and every one of you.