The little engine that could, keeps popping thru my head. If I keep breathing, and I keep plugging along, some things will get easier, I know this to be the truth.
I did 15 minutes today. I walked to the “long away” mailbox. its almost exactly 15 minutes there and back. The weather was beautiful. It started out in the 40s today, and I wasn’t sure it would get warm enough, but I told myself if it was atleast 65 at 2pm I’d do a walk.
Its hard sometimes, 15 minutes seems so short, the walk of 10-15 seems so worthless. I know for a fact its not, but the perception really is reality, so I need to change mine to believe that the time is the time, no matter how much I can do today. Tomorrow will be different, all of the tomorrows.
The treatments get into my brain, with the lymphatic system compromised from the surgery a few years ago that removed just an excessive amount of lymph nodes, the drainage gets stopped up. Drug and medicine gets stopped up in my head, and while on the one hand that’s helpful, on the other its not. I need it to get thru my entire body, and I need it to leave at an orderly fashion as it was intended. The best way for me to ensure and facilitate this, and to promote good processes in my body is to move.
Even when its hard, and I’m tired, and I don’t feel like it, I need to move. They didn’t get across the desert by being complacent and stagnant. They had to move. They didn’t get across the sea by being complacent and stagnant. Every religious leader in all of the stories had their time of movement and time of activity. While I’m not claiming or really even desiring to be a religious leader, the example has been set, the bar has been placed, and I know that for health and wellbeing I need to move.
After much thought and many discussions I have come to accept that a small amount is far far better than none. I’m just trying to reconcile this still. Knowing that the “good” endorphins start to come out after 15 minutes makes it really alot harder to do less than that…. Even if right now, thats all I can manage.
Today when I walked, there was another person walking – a guy he was coming from the other way, and it was … an interesting observation. He also had on a grey shirt and black pants, and his head was bald, he looked like – well honestly I felt solidarity because the sense I got was that he was another fellow cancer survivor. I was going to speak of solidarity as I smiled in passing, but he had a huge scowl – perhaps struggling alot harder in his movement progression – and had his headphones soundly in place. I smiled and waved and kept on with my walk. The sky was beautiful, the weather was the perfect temperature and I still had half the walk to go.
As I passed one house on the way back, I noticed there was a couple outside – I hadn’t noticed this passing on the way out, maybe they weren’t there, but I could swear it was the same couple I saw at the treatment place yesterday.
Yesterday when I had my new shot for hormone suppression – perhaps I should digress a little and explain. I have always had a fear and tremendous anxiety around shots. This has been for as long as I remember, having avoided them like they were some sort of horrendous plague – I recall as either of my parents can easily confirm, from my earliest visits, I would cry, scream, shout cajole and otherwise try and maneuver my way out of the shots I had to get for immunization. I recall this many many times, so much so that they would NEVER tell me in advance if it was time to go to the doctor and time for a vaccination. I feel part of my innate ability to detective, or puzzle things out in advance, my ability to predict and determine what will happen, is from this very factor. I would not know we were going to the doctor until we were almost there, and as soon as we were there, I would immediate seek confirmation we were getting shots, and then I was just simple inconsolable. –
Sorry mom and dad for this, I’m not certain where it came from but I know there is some truth in the fact that strong emotional things linger in our cells, and perhaps it was / is time for this one to go away. I was extremely anxious before the shot yesterday. Not at all anxious about the medicine being injected or anything other than relative to the actual needle in my backside – yes they have to inject this particular one in the rump, its a time delayed type of thing only given once a month, and by injecting it into the meaty part of your tush, it keeps the meds on a somewhat slow release type of thing – which honestly is probably really good since it causes Menopause symptoms as the side effect of all its suppression goodness. Extra hot flashes, with a side of moody, thanks loves, and a sore spot in the tush to remind me that I elected for this….
Sufficed to say, as I waited for the nurse to “prep” the meds, I was sitting in one of the infusion chairs where I would get my chemo treatment, and I was vocal – not so much like a child although I suppose its arguable like a child in an adult version lol – I was whining incessantly to Phil, quite vocally, and I was apparently quite amusing to the couple who was across from me. Apparently they must have had a child with a similar reaction as me to shots! I didn’t get to ask, but their amusement did serve to calm me down somehow.
I had the shot, which thanks to one of my favorite nurses, in my previous weeks lament, had suggested I use the lidocaine I had from the port they installed to make chemo treatments safer and easier, and the conversation the day before at my lab draw with this nurse where I had her mark the specific spot for the injection, and the clever husband who was able to help me get the entire area completely numb before the injection. The shot actually really wasn’t all that bad, I could hardly feel it and it was super fast, the nurse was good. I came back from the shot, and the couple was still laughing, now with me instead of at me, and I was apologizing to everyone in the room for my silly overactive behaviour.
One of the other guests at this infusion place, asked me strikingly: Have you had anything that was worse? To which I replied, that is a trick question, she answered, I know, but my goal is to make you think about this a minute. I did, and I replied, many things have been worse, and I think the anxiety about the shot – I explained to her all of the information above – was the worst. It allowed me to process a little bit, and while I can’t say I’m exactly looking forward to the next shot, I am somewhat appreciative for the opportunity to continue to release these pent up locked up things from inside my cells.
I can craft a newer better me, as I go along this journey. So many opportunities, so many hills left for me to conquer.
Carpe Diem Baby, Carpe Diem.