A few thoughts...

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My health is still progressing. In fact, I’ve made it two whole weeks with NO Doctor’s appointments!  Instead, I’ve been filling my time with beginner/slow flow yoga classes (trying to rebuild all of my lost muscle… and my ass), walks like this picture above with Sam and Mike and Kada (Sam’s first time in the cold woods- he kept his mouth wide open for the first 5 minutes), catching up with a few friends (and one epic night in the city with some of my closest pals where I tossed the “one drink a week” rule WAAAAY out the window, put on my heels, laughed and ate myself stupid), and returning back to Cala’s (in the behind the scenes roll since I’m not quite strong enough to wait tables again).  Phew… I love that run on sentence of activity.  It’s a far cry from “breathe in… breathe out.”Last week I met with my therapist that helped me get through my divorce. I hadn’t seen her in 3 years.  I’m hoping to avoid some PTSD that could occur when this hits me.  I want to be able to relive every fever, pain, fear, tear and not have it be something that is so scary that I can’t (or won’t) think about.  I want to be able to look back at all of those experiences- even the worst ones- and be proud of the way I handled them, be grateful for the lessons those hardships taught me and move forward.I get retested for cancer Mid March. That’s when we find out if the nuclear bomb they dropped on me worked and if all of that hell was “worth it.”  Several of my friends have asked me what my “intuition” says about the results.  Here’s something I haven’t shared much in this blog- intuition and I have been having a battle since “you have cancer” was said to me.  And if I think about it, intuition and I have been brawling for longer than just cancer.  Why?  Because my mind gets involved and plays really fucking shitty tricks on me.  In the thick of my treatment when I was wondering if I was going to live or die, I asked a few people what their thoughts were on intuition.  I mainly asked people who are on a spiritual path like mine and a few friends who have been through their own scary health issues.  I was worried that I couldn’t see my future… that that meant I didn’t have one.  But everyone (including myself) said pretty much the same thing:  that at the end of the day, it doesn’t matter where intuition leads you; you’re not in control of the outcome.  I’m not in control of this.  I did what I could do and will never give up, but I really don’t get a whole lot of a say on which way this will go.  My intuition didn’t give me the heads up that my tumor they biopsied the day after Sam was born would turn out to be full blown cancer!  And what IF my intuition says that I won’t be cancer free come mid March?  Does that make me a negative thinker?  Am I manifesting something evil? I’m aware of my intuition- my gut feeling; I trust it more than anything BUT sometimes my mind taunts me and it’s as if I can see a devil character holding a sign that says “game over, end of the road, this is it.”  Because the truth is that people die from cancer.  I know it’s always said with good intention (or said when you just don’t know WHAT to say), but it’s infuriating to me when I hear “you will be ok.”  Really?  How do you know?  Even medical professionals said it to me before my tumor was biopsied and it WASN’T OK.  It’s not always ok.  From a cancer patient to the outside world- stop saying, “you will be ok” to imply that there won’t be any more cancer.  Better words to say are, “I’m thinking of you, I’m praying for you, and my fingers are triple crossed that this piece of shit fucking cancer is gone soon.”  Although if my mother were to get cancer, better to just say the middle option and skip the last one.Sam had his first cold last week. Poor little man was coughing and sneezing 24/7.  I inevitably caught his sickness (probably because he literally coughed IN my mouth).  My throat has been sore and my lymph nodes in my neck have been swollen since Monday.  I could care less about the cold but I’ve had to have Mike tell me the cancer hasn’t come back at least 3 times.  I can’t walk past a mirror without looking at my neck.  I have a feeling I’m going to have to tell my devil brain to shut up for the rest of my life.  I logistically and intuitively know it’s not a return of cancer but this fear is real.  Augh… again, the true fight of a cancer patient is within the mental realm.It’s been about 5 months since my diagnosis and now that I’m out and about, I’m starting to run into a lot of people. I think everyone assumes that I’m an extrovert but I’m not.  I can easily speak in front of a large group of people.  I can be loud.  I’m good at leading, managing and being a voice.  But that’s all done on a “grand” scale.  I teach a better yoga class to 50 people than I do to 3.  I can bartend to a group of 100 and feel completely in control (even though the crowd may be chaotic), but put just a few people sitting at the bar and it instantly becomes WORK for me to talk to them.  I’m great at throwing parties and being a host but I really, REALLY hate ATTENDING one.  It’s the chit chat.  I get so awkward.  I can write this blog and say ANYTHING, fully knowing that my words are honest and out there for everyone to read.  I bring this up as a crutch.  As a precursor to if/and when I see you:  don’t judge my weird behavior.  Maybe I’ll talk to my therapist about how to break down those walls that have been there since birth.  I appreciate all of the thoughts and prayers and everything else that you have given me.  But if I act standoffish, it’s just because I’m uncomfortable.  It’s not you, it’s me.I took a yoga class on Friday with Katie at Treetop in Gloucester. We were all lying down with our eyes closed and she asked us to put our hands on our hearts.  I instinctively put both of my hands on my throat instead.  And then she said the most perfect words: “allow for space.”  Sure, for the rest of the class, it made perfect sense- making space in your heart is a great exercise.  But for me, with my hands on my throat, with the physical space of the tumor (hopefully) gone, I made space for easy in and out breath and for the truth to flow freely from my voice.