My faithful readers, maybe you were wondering how my day went yesterday. Maybe you had much more important things to busy your mind with. I understand, but indulge me for 500 words, would you? This won’t take long.
Yesterday went just fine in the end, although the day was a bit long and emotionally draining. I had a full morning at the Cancer Centre, first seeing Dr. Blood, and then undergoing Zap #2. During our considerable wait between appointments, we saw a number of patients who were indeed really sick, patients young and old with kids and spouses. At one point, I got upset imagining what these patients and their families were dealing with. Thank goodness J. was there to remind me that the doctors were trying to make these patients well.
In all this hubbub, I neglected to take my anti-nausea medication to ward off potential side effects of the zapping. I wasn’t particularly concerned about this omission until I told my Radiator, who was. I assured her I’d take the pill when I got home if need be. As I’d discussed earlier that morning with my favourite nurse practitioner, I may be a farter–this is not news to you–but I’m not a puker.
So J. and I rushed home, J. rushed off to work, I rushed off to pick up Jelly from the dear friends who cared for her that long morning, so I could rush back home to vomit in the privacy of my own washroom. Or at least to wait and see whether I would. And then I decided that that part of the plan was crazy. Should I sit around waiting for something that may not happen, or should I grab my pill and rush to the yoga class I attend on Tuesdays when cancer doesn’t interfere? (I’ve asked Dr. Blood to change her clinic day, to no avail.) I didn’t want to soil my as-yet-unblemished car, and I didn’t know whether downward dog would make me queasy. Still, from past experience, I really didn’t anticipate that watched pot boiling.
It turns out I arrived at yoga in the nick of time, and I made it through the class, which helped me to decompress after a stressful morning. I was really glad I had gone. Oh, and I didn’t vomit. (I told you I’m not a puker.) Even better, my farting didn’t start until the class was over.
For me, this split decision to go to yoga made living with cancer tolerable yesterday. (These decisions have much less to do with bodily functions than you might think.) My rigid routines, and all my activities outside cancer and doctors and hospitals, are my needed escape from my life with cancer. If it’s not yoga, it’s walking the dog or going for coffee with a friend or even seeing a client. When one called this week, I happily slotted her in between my various medical appointments. Why not? I may never forget that I have leukemia, but at least I can focus on something else for a bit. We all need a break from the hard stuff sometimes.