Yes I can.

"There are so many people out there who will tell you that you can't. What you've got to do is turn around and say watch me." - author unknown

Life is funny: this quote arrived in my inbox this morning and it resonated strongly with me. Perhaps it even triggered a memory or twenty of me saying just those words. And, many times I launched and I crashed back down to earth. Just as the naysayers predicted. But, many times I launched and sailed. Taking risks is inherent in my being, a part of my fabric and make-up.

Life is funny: this afternoon, the folks in radiation oncology were running behind. So, I sat in the waiting room conversing with a lady waiting for her husband to be treated for oral cancer and an older gentleman being treated for I'm not quite sure what. He'd had a tumor in his lung and it was pressing on his vocal chords. Thus, he sounded an awful lot like Clint Eastwood in his Dirty Harry days. He's also been going through experimental treatment over the last 18 months, had lost and regrown his hair twice, had numerous surgeries and drugs for perhaps three separate bouts of cancer.

I didn't catch his name, so I will call him Clint, in honor of the husky voice. Clint told me that when people say "cancer" to him, he translates it to "cure." When people tell him his time is limited, he tells them he chooses life. He also said he still goes to the gym three times a week and does what he can because exercise plays a huge factor in staying healthy and keeping the mental attitude positive.

So, basically the universe was giving me the exact same message twice today: once via email and once via an inspiring, strong man fighting for a cure. A cure for himself.

Interestingly, another man in the waiting room, commented to me, "You are too young to be here." And, I agreed with him. He then said, "Life isn't fair, you shouldn't be here." Again, I agreed. But, if any of us in that room awaiting treatment focus on the life isn't fair angle, we are going to have a tough time.

Life isn't fair. In my experience, I've found it to be true that some of us are given a lot to handle for no apparent reason. I look at my father: he's lost 3 of his sons, both his daughters have had cancer, he's divorced and his only living sibling just passed away last week.

Does Rene get depressed? Maybe. But, at 86, that man is still out walking his three miles a day, he goes to play petanque with his friends at Carderock two to three times a week, he travels back to France a few times a year to see his girlfriend and family: he is living his life. I inherited my stubborn bourrique (Corsican donkey) nature from him and I am proud of it.

He is one of the people who consistently told me that I cannot or shouldn't do certain things. I ignored him. And, I'm who I am today because of that slight recklessness, that defiance, that fearlessness in jumping into the unknown.

All my choices created who I am today, for better of for worse. I don't regret any of it.

Well, maybe law school.

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.

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.

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....

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.

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.