Wednesday, December 22, 2010 8:46 AM, EST
Warning: if you didn't like the book by the same title written by Elizabeth Gilbert, you might want to skip this one.
As the anniversary of my diagnosis, December 29th, approaches, it's unnerving to be doing all of the same things that I did last year at this time. Last year, as I was writing out holiday cards and wrapping gifts and finishing knitted gifts, I was also waiting for my biopsy results. And, this year I'm writing out holiday cards and wrapping gifts and finishing knitted gifts, and I already know I had cancer.
To celebrate the end of this year and the beginning of a new one, Jay and I went to the Berkshires last weekend. A weekend of delicious food, exercise, spa services, time together and quiet time to reflect.
Eat. I bought the "Canyon Ranch Cookbook" years ago knowing it would be the closest I would get to Canyon Ranch for a long time. And, the recipes are good. They're very good. But, when they are prepared for you, they are heavenly.
Although, it doesn't take a lot to impress me these days. Any meal that I don't have to food shop for, prepare, cajole Andrew into eating and clean up after is an amazing meal to me.
There were so many delicious, healthful choices--soups and salads and flat breads and fish and whole grains and kale. All delicious--and all on "The Anticancer" diet (kale is at the top of the list). As an extra treat, after every lunch and dinner, the staff asked if we wanted extra cookies to take away--ginger (our favorite) or macadamia nut or orange pecan or chocolate chip--all not on the anticancer diet. Delicious.
Pray. Jay and I took a lot of classes. Canyon Ranch was at low occupancy last week--so every class felt like a personal training session. Jay did more cardio. I did almost all yoga. And, we met up for a few classes together. In yoga--yin yoga, Canyon Ranch yoga, restorative yoga, and meditation, I had a lot of time to think about the year behind me and the year ahead.
In my last yoga class on Sunday I started to think about my body--before and after I was diagnosed with cancer. I thought about how certain I was last year that my biopsy results would not indicate cancer. How sure I was that I might potentially have other things, but breast cancer was not going to be "my thing." Of all the things I used to worry about, breast cancer was not even top ten.
As I was lying on the yoga mat in the final resting savasana pose, I realized that for a lot of this year, although this body has gotten me through surgeries, chemotherapy and radiation, I felt betrayed. I played by all the rules of good breast health. And, still my body found a way to let a tumor grow in my breast. And, not just a pea sized tumor that a lumpectomy could have removed--but a cancer so big that I needed a full on mastectomy. Really, body? We couldn't have handled breast cancer micro cells? What happened? Where did I go wrong?
My oncologist tells me that statistically I am now at only a slightly higher risk than the general population for developing breast cancer again. But, it's hard for me to trust this body again.
Since my active treatment ended in October, I sometimes wonder what the next betrayal will be. What's next? I had a cough a few weeks ago. I get a cough every year in November. Every year, every November since I went to the Harvard-Yale football game in 1987, I get a dry hacking cough. I go to the doctor. I get a nose spray and a cough suppressant, and the cough goes away. But, this year when I got "the cough" and my ribs hurt from coughing, I thought that maybe, possibly, the cancer had spread to my ribs--or my lungs. I've been making myself and, by association, Jay a little crazy.
Love. Sunday afternoon, lying on my yoga mat in savasana, I decided that I couldn't move forward if I can't trust this body. Lying on the yoga mat, I decided to forgive this body. I decided that if I'm truly going to "move forward," it's time to make an effort to forgive my body the cancer betrayal, start to trust it again and move on.
So I got out of resting pose, chanted "om" three times with the class, rolled up my yoga mat, left the yoga studio and looked for Jay.
Jay who reminds me everyday that I am fine. That the worst is behind us. And that I will be okay.
moving forward,
with love and gratitude,
Barbara
* "Anticancer A New Way of Life" by David Servan Schreiber
Warning: if you didn't like the book by the same title written by Elizabeth Gilbert, you might want to skip this one.
As the anniversary of my diagnosis, December 29th, approaches, it's unnerving to be doing all of the same things that I did last year at this time. Last year, as I was writing out holiday cards and wrapping gifts and finishing knitted gifts, I was also waiting for my biopsy results. And, this year I'm writing out holiday cards and wrapping gifts and finishing knitted gifts, and I already know I had cancer.
To celebrate the end of this year and the beginning of a new one, Jay and I went to the Berkshires last weekend. A weekend of delicious food, exercise, spa services, time together and quiet time to reflect.
Eat. I bought the "Canyon Ranch Cookbook" years ago knowing it would be the closest I would get to Canyon Ranch for a long time. And, the recipes are good. They're very good. But, when they are prepared for you, they are heavenly.
Although, it doesn't take a lot to impress me these days. Any meal that I don't have to food shop for, prepare, cajole Andrew into eating and clean up after is an amazing meal to me.
There were so many delicious, healthful choices--soups and salads and flat breads and fish and whole grains and kale. All delicious--and all on "The Anticancer" diet (kale is at the top of the list). As an extra treat, after every lunch and dinner, the staff asked if we wanted extra cookies to take away--ginger (our favorite) or macadamia nut or orange pecan or chocolate chip--all not on the anticancer diet. Delicious.
Pray. Jay and I took a lot of classes. Canyon Ranch was at low occupancy last week--so every class felt like a personal training session. Jay did more cardio. I did almost all yoga. And, we met up for a few classes together. In yoga--yin yoga, Canyon Ranch yoga, restorative yoga, and meditation, I had a lot of time to think about the year behind me and the year ahead.
In my last yoga class on Sunday I started to think about my body--before and after I was diagnosed with cancer. I thought about how certain I was last year that my biopsy results would not indicate cancer. How sure I was that I might potentially have other things, but breast cancer was not going to be "my thing." Of all the things I used to worry about, breast cancer was not even top ten.
As I was lying on the yoga mat in the final resting savasana pose, I realized that for a lot of this year, although this body has gotten me through surgeries, chemotherapy and radiation, I felt betrayed. I played by all the rules of good breast health. And, still my body found a way to let a tumor grow in my breast. And, not just a pea sized tumor that a lumpectomy could have removed--but a cancer so big that I needed a full on mastectomy. Really, body? We couldn't have handled breast cancer micro cells? What happened? Where did I go wrong?
My oncologist tells me that statistically I am now at only a slightly higher risk than the general population for developing breast cancer again. But, it's hard for me to trust this body again.
Since my active treatment ended in October, I sometimes wonder what the next betrayal will be. What's next? I had a cough a few weeks ago. I get a cough every year in November. Every year, every November since I went to the Harvard-Yale football game in 1987, I get a dry hacking cough. I go to the doctor. I get a nose spray and a cough suppressant, and the cough goes away. But, this year when I got "the cough" and my ribs hurt from coughing, I thought that maybe, possibly, the cancer had spread to my ribs--or my lungs. I've been making myself and, by association, Jay a little crazy.
Love. Sunday afternoon, lying on my yoga mat in savasana, I decided that I couldn't move forward if I can't trust this body. Lying on the yoga mat, I decided to forgive this body. I decided that if I'm truly going to "move forward," it's time to make an effort to forgive my body the cancer betrayal, start to trust it again and move on.
So I got out of resting pose, chanted "om" three times with the class, rolled up my yoga mat, left the yoga studio and looked for Jay.
Jay who reminds me everyday that I am fine. That the worst is behind us. And that I will be okay.
moving forward,
with love and gratitude,
Barbara
* "Anticancer A New Way of Life" by David Servan Schreiber
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