Morning Yoga

I want to stay as healthy as possible so I can do the things I want. It’s been harder lately as I’ve experienced some side effects in my feet and hands that make moving not fun. I believe they will improve. I believe I have some control. Who knows if I do or not, but I like to believe I do.

Belief is powerful.

We become what we believe. Beliefs become our words and actions. Keep in mind I don’t believe I brought on a cancer diagnosis by my thoughts or actions. No blaming myself. Belief is part of my personal treatment wheelhouse. I believe I can maintain my health. Staying active is the action to match that belief.

My oncologist told me not to alter what I was doing as a means of preventing some of these uncomfortable and at time painful side effects. I’m not sure she fully understands how intense I am. I don’t look super athletic. I’m not. Yet, I push. I sweat. I make decisions I question once I’m well past the point of no return. I woke up the morning after my first cycle of Doxil and felt so good I walked four miles in the heat. I wake up extra early on the days of my treatments so I can get a good workout done before I go and spend the bulk of my day at the hospital. I exercise even on my down days. I choose easier work, but I still choose something. She repeated her advice not to limit my activities the day I went in for my second cycle.

With her guidance in mind, I’m still keeping up my activities, but I’ve taken it a little easier for several days after treatment and integrated more yoga into my routine. The chemo care sheet says not to create extra friction on hands and feet for up to a week after each treatment. I see yoga as a way to work on core strength and flexibility while also quieting my mind. Yoga can grow my inner strength in addition to my outer strength.

Usually, I don’t stick with it very long. I feel tired after thirty minutes and not incredibly successful. I would improve if I practiced poses more as part of my practice.

I never did yoga outdoors until one glorious morning. I didn’t think I’d like it. I felt too self-conscious. Heat and bugs would bother me. But I went for it and loved it.

No heat and no bugs made my yoga time feel more refreshing.

I love that I still have new things at this point in my life.

I’ve been rising early on Sunday mornings, even earlier than on weekdays. On this particular day, the forecast was to reach the upper 80s. Hot weather is not my cup of tea. I wanted to get my workout done before it got too hot and definitely while my patio space was still in the shade.

Thoughts of the back yard I created wandered through my mind as I practiced. I admired my red bee balm knowing I was responsible for planting it. A hummingbird visited while I was out. I see them often enough due to the flowers in my garden. I always take it as a good sign when I see them. Cardinals, mourning doves, chickadees, and robins filled the air with their singing. Dew glistened in multicolored glints off the green grass. The outdoor air felt good on my skin. My senses took in my environment.

Other than myself, there were no people and no people sounds. I was alone in this piece of paradise for a few moments. I felt total oneness with my surroundings. I noticed close to a dozen different shades of green.

There was an insane level of power and peace at the same time.

I held poses much longer than I usually do in my wellness area in my basement. My commitment was to do what felt good and not commit to a set time. I did everything I wanted and practiced a little over an hour.

It was a time I could consciously focus on my breath.

Breathe in. Breathe out.

Cloud watching was included as some breath work. Lying flat on my back and staring upward was a good rest from some hip extension work. I love watching the sky. Cirrus clouds brushed the sky. I looked for animals as shapes drifted by slowly. Somewhere in my childhood was likely the last time I took the time to see the sky from this perspective. I’m looking forward to doing it again.

When I finished, I walked in the grass barefoot. It was more needed sensory work. I am someone who has always liked something on my feet. I’ve never been a barefoot kind of gal. The dew kissed grass was too much for my toes to resist. I walked slowly and each step became part of a reflective meditation.

Maybe I used my hands and feet more than I should have. Shoulding is a horrible business. I was told I could operate business as usual. So far, my feet seem to be faring better than my hands. My palms look shiny and waxy. They are a bit red in between my fingers and have peeled very minimally. I did them in a couple weeks ago wringing out water from towels when my air conditioner broke and my furnace leaked. I cleaned it up because that’s what needed to happen. In addition to the cost of a new air conditioner, it cost me my hands. Every crease where there are joints on my fingers are red, stiff, inflamed, and painful. I’ve been using a ton of lotion on my soles and palms. Days of not adding extra stress to them have helped more than anything. It took about ten days for my hands to heal so they don’t hurt. The joints still feel leathery, look different, and flare up after treatment or when I overdo it. I will continue to practice good self-care.

Until next time – Namaste.

Fundraiser Reflections

My Nifty 50 fundraising efforts have come to an end. I realize I have blogged often about this over the past ten months. This is it . . . very definitely maybe. Yet, it’s been a very successful part of my life. Success is important in the life of someone living with metastatic breast cancer. Success needs to be celebrated. I know I’m tooting my own horn a bit with this post. It is strange territory as I consider myself quite modest. I often look back on completed tasks to reflect on what I’ve learned and reasons why I think something worked. The “reasons why I think something worked part” may be of particular interest to anyone reading who has an interest in fundraising.

My goal was $50,000. The current total is $60,050.

Not too shabby for a fundraising rookie.

Here are a few of my reflections on the process and reasons why I think it worked.

Connections

I was fortunate to connect with the right people who could help support my vision. I worked regularly with two contacts at the UW Foundation who supported my goal. I know these connections wanted me to succeed. My success raised needed funds. Using a MyCarbone personalized fundraising page gave me a platform where I could reach many.

I also spoke often with Rob and Mary Gooze who founded the More for Stage IV Fund through UW Carbone. I learned a lot from their experiences. Their support was phenomenal. They have been in the fundraising world for over six years. Everything they do is polished and professional. Both always pointed me in the right direction whenever I needed to run something by them.

Connecting with the right people and using a platform that many have access to are huge supports when trying to raise money and reach people. News stories on TV helped a lot with outreach, too. Successful fundraising must reach past family and friends. Bigger and bigger circles mean more and more people are hearing about the need for more funding and research for metastatic breast cancer.

Bigger Than Myself

What I accomplished was bigger than myself. And I did it from scratch. There are those in the world who operate from a lens of only how events affect them as individuals. I wasn’t asking to fund a vacation or go on a shopping spree. It wasn’t about me. I worked for the greater good. One reason why I think so many embraced my goal was that it affected so many people. Research affects all of us. 42,690 women and men will die from MBC this year – that’s almost 117 a day. I am fully aware it takes years for an effective drug to go from research trial to FDA approval. My hope is research funded in part from Nifty 50 will benefit many men and women down the road. I’m hoping to benefit from all scientific developments available to me that the near future has to offer. Treatments that are available thanks to someone else’s fundraising for more research.

Coming Together

This project gave people an opportunity to join something where they could be part of something that grew. It feels good right now to be part of something where you can support it and feel like you made a difference. I know I made an impact. Events that were held brought people in the community together. I hope I changed perceptions on breast cancer research and people understand that MBC gets a pretty small sliver of funds designated for breast cancer. I know I got people talking in my neighborhood. I heard from old childhood friends, classmates and friends from my graduating class in high school, lots of friends and colleagues from more recent teaching days. I heard from former neighbors who had moved out of state. I also heard from many people I don’t know and probably never will meet. I read story upon story in comments from those grieving and honoring loved ones who felt compelled to share a part of their story. Nurses from both the cancer clinic and cancer center chipped in and offered me encouragement and their thanks. I am in awe of all of these humans who are amazing on their own and part of a wondrous whole.

Support

The support I felt personally from those messages written on my page lifted me more than I can say. I cried a lot reading those. Some encouragement was loud, some support was quiet, and some was anonymous, but all of it kept me going forward. The outpouring of support made me feel like my actions mattered. I felt people heard me. It made me feel a bit like George Bailey at the end of It’s A Wonderful Life when the whole town showers him with support. I’m no George Bailey, but I felt how I imagine he did at the end of the movie.

Planned Like a Teacher

I approached my fundraiser like a teacher. Teachers make something out of nothing all the time. We call it a school year. And we do it repeatedly. I mapped out ideas and strived for an event or focal point each month. Plans often were revised much in the same way as lesson plans got modified. Nifty 50 gave me a very strong sense of power and purpose, much like teaching did. Nifty 50 made me tired and at times a little stressed, much like teaching did. Kindness was a cornerstone of my classroom. Gratitude still matters in everything. I’ve sent thank you letters to all donors (except for the anonymous ones) featuring photos and highlights of events throughout the year. I wrote personalized notes at the bottom of each. There was a beginning and end date to Nifty 50 just like a school year. Summer provided rejuvenation in between school years. I was always excited to go back in fall and do it all over again from beginning to end. Herein is a problem and some unsettled feelings for me. There is no next fundraiser. I am just done and don’t quite know what to do with myself. Where is my purpose now? I don’t know. I need a bit of a rest and need to focus on me for a bit.

Monumental Achievement

I did it. Me. I don’t typically bite off this much.

And I did it while living with metastatic breast cancer.

AND I completed my efforts during COVID-19.

Sometimes I am the person I’m trying to convince that I can still accomplish quite a bit. Having purpose and goals gives me focus and a place to direct my energy. I hope people remember well after my fundraiser has faded away that ideas that might seem out of reach are possible. It was called ambitious at the beginning by some. Lofty was another word I heard it described as recently. Hmmm . . . I still have to talk to one of my friends about calling it lofty. Ambitious and lofty aren’t necessarily negative terms, but in my mind those words have always been connected more to unobtainable goals rather than determination. I’ve always aimed high. I wanted this to happen. I had quite a bit of control in getting it to happen. I planned events. There was publicity. I stayed persistent and kept hammering away at what I wanted from different angles. A lot of my time and efforts were devoted to this work. I surrounded myself with effective people who knew more about fundraising than I did. I asked a lot of questions to find out what I didn’t know and what I needed to do to get something to happen. I heard NO perhaps more often than I heard YES. Every YES was vital. I even turned a NO here and there into a YES with some reframing.

I have done many things in life. This undoubtedly was something I didn’t expect I would do. I’m proud of what I accomplished. I hope people see that one person can create a spark that creates a fire. We are better when we work together.

I end by referencing the movie Field of Dreams. Ray (played by Kevin Costner) heard a whisper in his cornfield. He heard the now famous phrase, “If you build it, he will come.” Ray believed. He built it. Then Shoeless Joe Jackson came along with many others. My word for 2020 is BELIEVE. I believed I could achieve my goal. I built it. People came. I think it’s the belief in something that is sometimes the biggest reason why something works.

Keep believing.

Santa Claus

The Santa of my childhood was magical and momentary. He was as real as his red suit. He never failed to deliver the presents on my list. Life was simpler. So much simpler.

Life is more complicated as a grown-up. It’s filled with more responsibilities, problems to solve, and expected etiquette. I sort through which responsibilities are mine to own and which are not. I do the same with problems. I still get stuck with problems that aren’t mine. Much etiquette seems outdated and that helps me ignore what I choose. I am in favor of doing what I want whether Miss Manners approves or not. Sorry, Miss Manners, that wasn’t very polite of me.

This includes seeing Santa Claus even though I am thought to be too old. I never set out with the intention to see him. In my defense, I didn’t even know he was going to be where I was shopping that day. When I found him, he was still the same as from my childhood. No, not the same. The older I become, the better he gets.

I found myself out on a cold, wet, windy day to a garden center and home decor gift store mainly because I wanted to enjoy the atmosphere of all the different themed Christmas trees they decorate. Meandering aimlessly around the store relaxes me. I pick out a favorite each year. This year it was one of the nature themed trees as it usually is with me. They all have appeal. The red and gold themed trees were festive. Red velvety ribbon wound its way around trees as garland. Assorted traditional bauble ornaments decorated others. Candy canes and gingerbread styled ornaments hung on branches of another. Wintry poinsettias interspersed with silver and gold ornaments bedazzled another with a sparkling star that glimmered on top. Even a silver tinsel tree looked beautiful adorned with shiny ornaments in blues and purples.

In the back of the store sat Santa and Mrs. Claus side by side on an iron patio bench, surrounded by a variety of smaller pre-lit trees that were undecorated. Both looked simply so happy, warm, and kind. Their eyes sparkled with happiness, warmth, and kindness. They looked like they stepped out of the pages of a children’s book.

fullsizeoutput_7ad

They looked how I feel when I take freshly baked cookies out of the oven. Or when all is well and I’m lost in thought gazing into the fire in my fireplace on a cold night. Or when I’m looking at the ornaments on my tree at home and remembering happy memories that each one evokes of family, friends, vacations, and favorite things that make me feel happy inside.

I passed them by on my first walk through the store. I am an adult. I don’t see Santa.

Except for last year when a similar opportunity presented itself when I was out of town in Milwaukee on a holiday outing.

No, this wasn’t going to become a thing. I walked slowly, marveling at how jolly and permanently smiley they both were. They were the epitome of what the Clauses should be because that’s who they were. A handful of store employees crowded around them and exclaimed an obligatory “Merry Christmas” in unison to have a group photo taken. I kept walking.

I walked more around the store, admired more trees, holiday decorative pillows, birdhouses, and strolled through the plant area with long tables of large poinsettias in addition to their usual plants and bulbs.

fullsizeoutput_7b0

I was in no hurry to head out into the wintry day of ick that couldn’t make up its mind whether it wanted to stick with rain or try to snow.

Perhaps somewhat intentionally, I ambled back in front of Santa.

No kids were waiting.

Okay, so this apparently has become a thing. Clearly.

I could have worse things than being compelled to see Santa.

Santa wanted me to sit on his knee. Of course he did. He’s Santa. Last year, I said I was too heavy. He insisted. And feeling like I was about five years old, I hunched my shoulders, bowed my head, and mumbled, “Okay, Santa.” A person does whatever Santa says and does not argue with him.

This year I was not argumentative but respectfully declined. Several photos were taken. I should be good for another year.

fullsizeoutput_7a9

Why do I need to do this? I’ve come up with two reasons.

One simple reason is I crave a return to an easier time in my life. Being a child again would give me a world where my parents were alive and well, a world where I could have a great time at school and come home and play, and a world where Santa always came through and brought me exactly what I asked for. It would give me a world where I didn’t know anyone who had died and I had never heard the word cancer. My sheltered world was pretty wonderful.

I have a desperate need to recapture this bliss from my childhood even if it’s only for a minute. It feels incredibly warm and filling. Don’t knock it until you’ve tried it.

What’s my second reason?

Santa represents hope, belief, and goodness.

Hope, belief, and goodness are a few of the best things around. Each of us wants to possess those qualities and give them freely. We all want to hope for the best, believe in miracles, and share the good. We want these in abundance. Santa has them and we want to be like Santa.

Is this harder for me to do as someone living with cancer? Some days are harder than others, but we all have hard days. Some days I don’t think much has changed and other days I don’t recognize my life. I don’t see the hospital where I go several times a month for treatment as a hopeful environment. It’s sterile and problematic. I feel like I’m in a strange version of the movie Groundhog Day each time I’m there. I wonder what loser is going to ding my car with their door in the parking ramp and what repetitive hurdle I’m going to encounter again in a conversation about which insurance needs to be billed first, what I like to be called, or an important detail about my health that I feel isn’t being addressed. My 40s have not been how I envisioned them. How is this my life? Why did this happen? Like I said, some days are hard.

Other days it doesn’t seem hard at all. I wake up and feel energetic and excited about my day. I focus on doing what I can to be kind. Our world needs helpers and I can still be a helper without many of the restraints that dictated past actions. Thoughts wondering what others think or what lines I need to remain within in the professional world are gone. I can color outside the lines! And it’s good! Many things are easier to accomplish without rules getting in the way. Some days I just have fun planned and I relish in my fun because I deserve every ounce I can get.

Back to Santa representing hope, belief, and goodness and how it applies to my life. I have a lot of hope in research for new metastatic breast cancer treatments. I have hopes for many arboretum walks, meeting new physical goals, special trips, and fun times with friends. I believe I make a difference. I believe in education. I believe in democracy. I believe in God and science. There is a lot of goodness in the world. Santa spreads some of that goodness.

I believe in Santa.

Hope, Belief, and a Monthly Planner

In early January of 2017, I bought myself a new monthly planner for the year ahead. My main motivation was I wanted a different one other than the school academic monthly planner I had used. Every time I used my school planner, there was a visual reminder that I wasn’t there. This was before official retirement when my leave had been extended for the entire school year. I pondered maybe it would be a good step to transition to a different planner.

The first sign that this was good was it only took me about five minutes to choose which new planner I wanted. I grabbed five or six off the shelf at the bookstore and sat down and started comparing them. One was too heavy and had a magnetic snapping cover. It was going to take up a lot of space in my bag. Weekly planners were out because I liked looking at the entire month as a whole. My final two choices were between a planner with a blue floral cover I liked but with very plain inside pages, and a colorful, almost hippie style outside cover, with equally flower power inside calendar pages. It was all very cheerful and bright. I bought the colorful and cheerful planner.

I had bemoaned for months over whether I would continue my leave from school or return to teaching, and here I had been able to make a decision quickly and effectively. Yes, I know my decision concerning work was much more monumental, but it was also stressful. It felt good to make a decision quickly about my planner and know I was happy with my choice.

But there is more to the story. I remained happy about my new planner for days afterward. It became one of my favorite objects. People would ask what was new, and I’d tell them in great detail about my wonderful monthly planner. It was weird and a bit obsessive. Truly, I did have other things going on. Then I figured out why my planner was a source of such joy. The planner was about hope. People who are hopeful make plans and write them down. When I bought my planner, my decision had been made to extend my leave, and I wanted a planner not connected to school while I didn’t work there. I was going to make and keep lots of plans. I did just that.

My calendar has been fuller than ever these past two years. My new planner for 2019 has a few too many things already penciled in for an introvert’s liking. One constant for the coming year will be to fill each day with hope, and maybe try to schedule a little less to balance with my inner peace.

Hope springs up in the most unexpected places. Consider the book Unbroken: A World War II Story of Survival, Resilience, and Redemption by Laura Hillenbrand. I expected a graphic, emotionally hard to read story of Louis Zamperini’s unfailing will to survive and beat all the cruelties of war and imprisonment. Throughout the book, I found myself wondering how in the world he managed to pull through and dodge death for another countless time. What I didn’t expect was to relate much on a personal level because my day-to-day life is so different from what Louis Zamperini lived. His resilience and strength really empowered his spirit. I had that in common with him. About halfway through the book, there was a chapter focused on his family’s beliefs that was powerful. You see, the Zamperini family always felt Louis was still alive after his plane went down and he was assumed dead. His parents still spoke of him in the present tense. This section of the book made me think for weeks about the intersection of hope and belief. Hope was a wish. Belief was a feeling. Belief persevered without proof. If your hope became part of your beliefs that you thought of as true, you then had this awesome force on your side to surround and support you.

Time and time again, I have needed to dig deep into my springs of hope. It happened a lot early into the cancer diagnosis when I was told why surgery or radiation wouldn’t work for me. There have been countless times when I have heard a medical NO, and always one more time than this where I have had to bounce back stronger and more hopeful than before because the hope in my heart said YES. There is often chaos and fear in NO. NO can be a very useful word. NO is a complete sentence all on its own. But here it carries a lot of uncertainty. There is always a path and hope in YES. YES carries lots of belief and promise.

Hope may make all the difference.

Never.

Ever.

Give.

Up.

Hope.

 

You are always welcome to leave a comment below.

What plans are you making?

How is hope part of your belief system?