March 2024 – Frantic Shanti

Year 7 Mammogram in the Books

It’s enough to make me get a little cocky.

A few days ago I had my 7th yearly mammogram since my cancer diagnosis. Let me stress first, I am very aware of how fortunate I am. My appointment was early in the morning, my husband came with me (like he’s been doing, since he didn’t come during my diagnostic mammogram seven years ago) and I got a clean bill of health from the radiologist quite quickly.

I didn’t even feel those few minutes of hovering as I waited for the results. The technician had allowed my hubby into the mammogram room to wait with me, and he and I casually chatted so I didn’t notice the time pass.

Wow, things have changed.

‘Scuse me while I sit back and reflect on how fortunate I am for getting this far.
(Photo by Fuu J on Unsplash)

Every year, this feels different, cancer feels further away and I feel less “impending sense of doom” that I had in the first several years.

That’s why something like Kate Middleton’s announcement that she had started chemotherapy for cancer shocked me back to reality.

No matter how good I currently feel about my own situation, there are many reminders that cancer is still a terrible disease that doesn’t care who you are or what you have going on. And it’s still grabbing people and throwing them into treatment.

So much for my cocky attitude.

At times like these, I take a moment to reflect on gratitude for how far I’ve come and, as suggested by my oncologist, how much more life I have in front of me. I don’t think I would have ever felt this appreciation as deeply if I hadn’t gone through the soul-tearing experience that cancer is. Which is not to say that I’m glad I went through it, because I’m not.

Still reminders like Kate’s announcement help counter the selfish little feelings that I sometimes get when I see the free things available to cancer patients now and pout that those weren’t there for me. Yes, those are “human” feelings, but you know what, I can do without them.

Instead, it’s so much more fulfilling to bask in the golden hour sun, taking deep nourishing breaths, and shoo away the everyday concerns that disturb my sleep. At least I have the luxury of being able to busy myself with them, the bothersome little things, and know that I’m still around to have them be a bother.

Why I Get Irritated Searching for Yoga Photos

^{(Title image: Photo by Katie Bush on Unsplash)}

This is getting annoying.

I’ve been posting a lot about yoga, specifically about yoga for cancer populations.

Yoga programming for such populations is *not* your garden variety beginner/intermediate yoga. With the possible exception of well-practiced, life-long yogis who experience a cancer diagnosis, most of the people taking these yoga classes will have limitations to their movement and will need thoughtfully-designed sequences that offer appropriate modifications.

In a number of cases, these individuals may be older (for example, the average age at diagnosis for a woman in the US with breast cancer is 62). Many of them will not have an established yoga practice but may be attracted to yoga due to its reputation as being a mind-body activity: people with cancer not only have to deal with the disease and physical side effects of treatments, but also the emotional repercussions of being diagnosed with a life-threatening illness. Yoga can help.

So why am I irritated? Because the photo databank I use for my blog is replete with photographs of bodies in yoga poses. However, the poses shown are nothing that I would ever consider twisting a cancer patient into.

Make no mistake: the photographs are lovely, the yogis are impressively advanced, but what kind of a message does seeing mainly *these* kinds of yoga photos send to those cancer patients considering trying out yoga?
(Photo by Oksana Taran on Unsplash)

The yogis shown almost without exception are young and flexible. And when I’ve searched for “senior yoga” etc. to increase the diversity of the images…sure, I can find some but they’re locked behind a paywall (mine is a free blog without a budget for such niceities). Apparently, an older individual doing yoga is considered “exotic”.

This type of exclusivity feeds the narrative that yoga is for youthful, injury-free people who have the funds to attend studio classes. Someone who might be older, recovering from surgery, limited in range of motion and conscious about their budget due to treatment costs…well, I wouldn’t be surprised if they felt that yoga wasn’t welcoming of them and their needs.

This is, of course, so ironic, because of all the different exercise modalities, yoga is one of the most perfect for cancer patients. These are the people who need yoga the most!

Yes, I’ve written (griped?) about this topic before. Yes, we’re becoming more accepting of diverse bodies in diverse situations. But good luck trying to illustrate a blog post on yoga for cancer patients with actual photos of cancer patients doing yoga!

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I’m not expecting to easily find every type of person depicted doing yoga in a given (free) photobank. But in the US we have a problem with making yoga accessible, and the more images that we run of only a certain kind of human doing yoga, the more we inadvertently push the idea that yoga is only for that certain kind of human.

White Paper: “Yoga Interventions for Cancer Patients and Survivors”

^{(Title image: Photo by Raimond Klavins on Unsplash)}

I’ve been writing a lot lately about using yoga to mitigate cancer therapy-related side effects.

In this post, I want to bring your attention to the white paper entitled, “Yoga Interventions for Cancer Patients and Survivors” [Important: this links to the download page on the yoga4cancer website, *not* directly to the pdf itself]. It’s an evidence-based review of research regarding the benefits of a yoga practice in coping with negative side effects that afflict cancer patients and survivors, followed by recommendations for teaching yoga to this population.

This 24-page document (quoted directly from the paper’s abstract) “(1) provides a summary of research on the benefits of yoga for cancer patients and survivors, (2) highlights the most beneficial components of yoga for cancer survivors, (3) identifies barriers and solutions to the creation of accessible, evidence-based yoga programming, and (4) offers guidelines for developing yoga programs that best meet the unique needs of cancer patients and survivors.” [Again, this links to the download page.]

The white paper is written in non-technical language, distilling the research down into a form that doesn’t require a scientific background to understand. Additionally, editions are available in Spanish and Japanese, both available on the download page beneath the English version.

If you’d rather not download, you can read the English version below (or click the “download” button underneath the paper for a pdf):

yoga-interventions-for-cancer-patients-and-survivors_white-paper Download

Unexpected News at my 7-Year Oncology Appointment

^{(Title image: Photo by Gary Fultz on Unsplash)}

A few days ago I had my seven-year post-diagnosis appointment with my oncologist. Seven whole years. And it was a weird conversation.

He said something that set me aback. He told me that he didn’t think I should worry about the cancer coming back. Essentially, I was cured (note: MY words, not his, but that’s the idea). [See bottom of post for disclaimer!]

He’s alluded to this before during previous appointments. But this time around felt different.

I’ve officially hit SEVEN!
(Photo by Himiway Bikes on Unsplash)

I returned home a bit confused. See, for the last seven years, I’ve been a full-on cancer survivor. Still holding on to the fear that at any moment, I would get those terrifying scan results back and–WHAM–I’m a cancer patient once more, back on that sickening rollercoaster ride through treatment.

As difficult as it was to accept that–even trying my best to live a healthy life–I had somehow been smacked down by cancer…now, I had a new problem. Reentering life as maybe not-so-much a cancer survivor anymore, but rather just a healthy, active postmenopausal woman with years ahead of her.

And that is a weird feeling.

For the first five years after my diagnosis, I was frustrated, even angry. Cancer was a devastating detour at a time when I was already struggling to find my way back into a career. Well, forget that. Derailed. I was bitter.

Eventually, I realized that while life sucked, it sucked for a lot of people and I wasn’t special in that regard. That was an important turning point in how I perceived my own role in my cancer story–it was humbling but also gratifying.

Humbling because my experience could have been so much worse. There were people whose treatment did not end well. I was incredibly fortunate, even when it felt like I’d been thrown in a sack and beaten with sticks. At least, I made it out.

Gratifying because early on I held myself responsible for getting cancer, even though I had literally done everything protective (lots of exercise, high fitness, plant-based diet, breastfeeding, not smoking, not drinking) that I could think of. I was desperate with frustration and helplessness about this. Letting go of that guilt was healing.

Feels like I’ve got the green light to hurry up and get on with the rest of my life now.
(Photo by Possessed Photography on Unsplash)

So the last two years have been more about understanding my perspective and then stepping out of it to view things more objectively. Mindfulness and meditation helped with that, which is why I often write about them here. But I hadn’t been ready to get out of the breakdown lane and drive myself back into mainstream life, in part fearful of the pain of having the expectation of cancer-free “normality” smashed to smithereens by a potential diagnosis.

Gradually, that’s changed. But this last appointment felt like getting shoved out the door by someone yelling, “YOU’RE OKAY, DAMMIT!” Here I am, standing and blinking in the sunlight, trying to make sense of exactly what that means for me now. Wow, after seven years, I can actually stop being afraid.

I don’t know if I even remember what that feels like.

Yes, I’m still going to refer to myself as a survivor, because it’s a part of my natural history. I’m never going to forget that experience and I continue to be driven by a need to support others going through this disease.

And if it does return? Well, at least I will have had a brief glimpse of life completely outside the notion of cancer.

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Of course, because we’re talking about cancer, the statements above call for level-headness in the midst of levity. While my oncologist feels that the chances of the same cancer coming back are low, the possibility for a brand spankin’ new tumor, breast or otherwise, never goes away. It happened once, it can happen again. But that’s life. I’ll take it.