September 27, 2013
Hi, I’m Bridget. I’m your yoga teacher and I am seven months cancer free. During a routine mammogram in January they discovered a large area of concern. On that Wednesday doctors performed several wire insertions, core samples and a biopsy. While the procedures were not incredibly painful, I was anxious and didn’t know what to expect or what to feel from one to the next. I practiced breathing slowly in through the nose and slowly out through the nose to head off the rising panic and to give myself a calming focus. I get savasanas now and how comforting it is to be still in the standing series.
They sent me home with ice packs, gauze, bandages and a very misshapen profile. The swelling continued as did the bleeding. I stopped practicing that week. And then I started to talk myself out of teaching that Sunday morning class. You know how it is. Just like with my practice or rather my excuses not to practice: ‘Ok, you can stay home just this once. There’s nothing wrong with taking a break and, of course, oh why not?!? This is the perfect excuse.’
I taught the Sunday class not because of any great feat of courage, but because I listened. You can do this: one breath at a time, one posture at a time, you’ve got this. And as a post script, the next time you think someone is judging you for what you’re wearing or what your postures look like, let that thought go. They are not looking at you. And if they are, it’s about them, not you. Because I couldn’t raise my arm or wiggle into a snug fitting elastic top, I wore a loose button front shirt. The only shirt I had was tacky and Hawaiian. And no one noticed, or at least no one said a word?
On Monday the biopsy results confirmed breast cancer,specifically ductal carcinoma in situ or DCIS. I am very fortunate. DCIS is the most common form of non-invasive breast cancer.
I don’t remember the next few weeks very well. During the day I had an incessant urge to get things done; at night I couldn’t sleep.Surprisingly, I didn’t want to go online to research the possibilities. I poked around looking up a few definitions here and there and when things became too scary I logged off. Thankfully I did not venture onto any blogs. I do recall having one hissy-fit. I had an appointment to have my hair colored. As I grabbed my car keys some of the thoughts and unknowns that I had stuffed began to spiral to the surface and I let them grow and take up too much space. The arms started waving, the voice grew very loud, the tears erupted and everything inside ripped wide open. Why am I bothering? This is a waste of money. I’m probably going to lose my hair anyway. Drama and probably a little fear. It's no different than being in the hot room. Don’t allow fear of the unknown or the attention-seeking drama to take over. If you do you will never move forward. So feel the feelings They will pass. It’s okay to flop around like a fish the first class, but after that don’t be a drama queen. Just breathe.
I had to decide between a lumpectomy or a mastectomy. A lumpectomy would be minimally invasive, but there would also be the risk of recurrence. It would be followed by radiation and five years of medication, or chemotherapy. Luckily for me the estrogen and progesterone receptors were positive so I would not need chemotherapy. In my case, if I chose a mastectomy, I would not require radiation or chemotherapy. And there might be that little added peace of mind that they ‘got everything’, although it comes with its own set of issues. My initial choice was to have a mastectomy, however that changed after learning that with a mastectomy I would most likely have a loss of range of motion and some degree of pain for some part or possibly the rest of my life. I decided to go through with a lumpectomy and marginalize the possibility of recurrence. The first surgery was not completely successful. Sixteen days later I had a second surgery with clear margins. I ended up with a partial mastectomy.*
I took my first class a week after surgery. It felt good to feel normal. It was comforting to go through the routine of the same twenty six postures with two breathing exercises. It was a safe place to unburden some of the feelings and some of the tears without making anyone feel they needed to give me some there-there. How often is anyone able to be in the moment by themselves, in the company of a wonderful group of people all struggling together? It was a great cover except for the fact that my nose lights up when I cry. Read Bridget’s post about how she had to adapt her postures post-op.
In the beginning my range of motion was limited. I did not have the same degree of stretch that I had before surgery, but I was able to stretch! In my mind I stuck out in class and I felt embarrassed, when in fact, what I felt was ego. Prior to surgery I thought there were only a handful of arm strengthening/pectoral enhancing postures. Now I know better. They all do. You just have to want to work those muscles.
Every posture required a modification. I was not in pain when I practiced, but I was aware of where the edge was. If I started to force something I would be reminded with a sharp feeling or an immediate muscle constriction after I finished the posture. Savasanas in the Cobra series, wow, those were another story, but that was an easy fix: I did the third trimester pregnancy modification. Unlike my tacky Hawaiian shirt, someone noticed. A student practicing next to me smiled after class and asked if I was pregnant. I’m in my fifties?
Two weeks after surgery I began a six week stretch of radiation. Think heavy-duty sun burn pain with a cheap spray tan discoloration. Added insult to injury. While the area was more sensitive, I don’t think the radiation limited my practice. During the day I felt fatigued and had no zip. Oddly enough, I didn’t feel tired when I practiced. I felt energized.
I finished radiation in time for Memorial Day weekend. I ‘woo-hooed’ for three days and started taking a medication called tamoxifen that Tuesday. I will be on this course for the next five years. Possible side effects are weight gain, mood swings and, my favorite, hot flashes. So far I have been able to avoid the weight gain. I don’t feel moody or irritable although I heard my husband cautioning someone under his breath, ‘Just don’t look her in the eye and you’ll be okay’. And I’ve got the market cornered on hot flashes. Winter can’t come fast enough! But in the hot room I feel absolutely fine.
My recovery has been incredible and for that I have to thank the yoga both before the surgery and while I heal. It helps me with so much:being present, being mindful, accepting myself with my abilities and limitations for that day’accepting you with your abilities and limitations for that day, and obviously all the stretching and range of motion. Sure, some days are more challenging than others, but that was true before all this happened.When I practice, I feel better. Muscles slide over each other easier, tendons have just a little more give and I have added strength and energy. When I don’t practice, I age very quickly. Simply stated, I can’t afford not to practice yoga.
I am not alone in class. Several students shared their experiences, their thoughts and helpful insights. Thank you, thank you, thank you! Maybe you have your own fears or questions and would like to talk about it. Please set your mat up next to me. You’re not alone. There is so much healing to be found in the hot room. It’s a shame not to reach out to it.
* Oh give it up already! There is so much scar tissue and traumatic swelling you can’t tell which side.