Monthly Archives: October 2019

Chair Yoga

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This week, after dedicating almost a year of my life to become a certified yoga instructor, I started teaching my own class. I have subbed before, but when it’s your own class, it feels different. I can’t even begin to list the different emotions I had been feeling, especially since I didn’t even know where my Yoga Teacher Training was going to take me. I wasn’t sure I would end up teaching, and my only goal was to be able to show other people who shy away from yoga that they can do it and that benefits from doing it are beyond measure.

Savasana in chair yoga class.

Certain traits of the old me did come out as I dove into educating myself about chair yoga. I took chair classes anywhere I could find one, always being forthright and telling the instructor that I am a certified yoga instructor, just taking all kinds of classes to see where I might like to specialize. (Ok so this was a little white lie because I already knew that I would be teaching chair yoga… but I was mostly honest!) I watched too many chair yoga videos to even count: different instructors, different settings, different types of audiences, etc. I read four books (and I have a fifth coming, but it isn’t even available until mid November). I took notes and studied similarities and differences in the classes. I looked at poses I would most like to see and practice if I was taking a chair yoga class myself. The history behind me teaching chair yoga is packed with Svādhyāya, or self-study. I committed to self-study upon completing my training, and I sure didn’t waste any time.

Four books read, more to come.

After I created a class that made sense to me in its flow and variety, I practiced it. I made Bruce do it. I did it with my trainer. I made sure that this class was exactly what I wanted. And it is. But I can’t say I’m happy with how easily I seem to fall back into the perfectionist areas that I have worked so hard to tame. And I’m even hard on myself because even though once upon a time when I was in the classroom, I was able to multitask like nobody’s business, and I could teach any topic without hesitation, now I need to have notecards because my MS has progressed and I could very easily get lost in the middle of a class. I mean, On a daily basis, I enter a room (could even be the bathroom) and don’t remember why I went there. I can be driving my very familiar routes and all of a sudden forget where I am. I can even start a statement, and then forget it mid sentence. This is life with MS.

Studying at the chiropractor.

So it might look odd to some people to see a yoga instructor with notecards, but this one has MS. So what? So I make this accommodation for myself but it’s not like I’m reading to my class. I just need to know where I’m headed so I don’t leave anything out (or do something twice because I forgot we already did it!). I’m even working on new and different ways to handle my cards so they aren’t as obvious. The last thing I want people to think is that I’m a less capable instructor simply because I have cognitive deficiencies from Multiple Sclerosis.

Studying at my volunteer job.

The “teaching” part comes naturally to me still, thankfully. I guess once a teacher, always a teacher. I might not be the best yogi out there, but I have worked hard to be where I am… and I am here to tell you that if I can do this, so can you. We all feel that we have limitations to work through, and doing so can be very empowering. My advice is the following: don’t waste time not doing something you want to do just because you think you can’t. Because we all can! We just have to find tools to help us overcome…I did! So stop hesitating, and do your thing. And if you need help, give me a shout. This is my specialty.

Tennis Elbow

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Since March, I have been dealing with a pretty severe case of tennis elbow. At first it was just my right arm, but the pain was so intense that I felt like my skin was burning and I could not do anything without pain… including routine things like brushing my teeth. It was horrible. I did a strict protocol of ice and Advil, and resting it as much as possible. I was modifying all of my yoga that involves my arms, and my trainer and I stuck to working my lower body and abs. (I still can’t see my six pack yet although my trainer insists that it is there, just in case anyone was wondering!) After several weeks with no improvement, and clearly visible inflammation, I went to see an orthopedic doctor who gave me a cortisone injection. As my right elbow began to improve, I started having the same issues on my left side. I could not believe it was happening to me like this. Why??? So I didn’t wait quite as long to go for my cortisone shot on the other side because I just wanted relief.

This is what icing both elbows looks like.

So ever since then, I have been very careful about over-using my arms, and I wear the appropriate protective straps whenever I exercise at all, even if I’m not focused on my arms, just as a reminder that I am not better just because the shot helps with the pain. I still need to be patient and allow my body the time it needs to heal. How do I know this? Because I just got a second shot in my right arm this week because the pain came back with such a vengeance that my trainer (who usually opposes this type of intervention and would rather handle it more naturally) actually ordered me to get a second shot.

The boo boo from my second injection in righty.

The reason I am giving this back story before getting to the real meat of my blog this week is because all of this “babying” my arms has gotten me way off my schedule. For the last two and a half weeks, I have not been myself. I thrive on a schedule, which made being a teacher my perfect job. And when I was forced to retire on disability, I created a schedule for myself because it’s how I function best. The last two and a half weeks, I have not even gone to the yoga studio because just “modifying” clearly wasn’t enough and I needed to give myself some real time to heal. But all of that comes at a price.

Tennis elbow straps on both arms is so darn annoying!

Without my regular schedule, I don’t get the same endorphin rush that one typically gets from exercising. I’ve been working with my trainer still, yes, but I’m dying to go HAM (ask a millennial if you don’t know the expression because one of my students taught it to me, but let’s just stay it starts with hard as a…!), but I can’t. Not in the full body, interval way we usually work, anyway. Without my regular schedule, I don’t get to interact with the people I’m used to being around. I love my yoga classes, the instructors who teach them, and the people who practice with me. I find myself isolated and that can be quite lonely at times. While I have managed to be somewhat productive, that’s a relative term and I spent more time binge watching Jane the Virgin on Netflix than anything else. I hate the feeling of Bruce coming home at the end of the day and finding me exactly where he left me that morning. He’ll ask about my day and I’ll tell him that he’s looking at it. It’s not how I prefer to be, although those days are certainly something I allow and appreciate every once in a while, but it gets old really fast for me.

Now that I’ve had the second shot in my right elbow, I’m praying like crazy that I don’t need another one in the left. Still, tennis elbow or not, I intend to get back to my regular schedule this week because (while my body craves it), my mental state requires it. Even if I do nothing with my arms, I need to be with my people and do what I love. I know that this is the only thing that will make me feel like my old self again.

By the way, I haven’t picked up a tennis racquet in probably 20 years or more, yet here I am dealing with a condition largely seen among tennis players, hence the name. I’m just going to call this yogi elbow caused by doing too many chaturangas because I committed to a daily practice when I embarked upon the journey to become certified as a yoga instructor.

Schedules might not be for everyone, but for this girl, they are a necessity. Plus, if I can live with Multiple Sclerosis for over 19 years, kick breast cancer’s ass, walk around with a fused spine, and now handle diabetes like it’s nothing, there’s no way I’m going to let a couple bum elbows bring me down. I got this!

I got this. By the way, here you can also see my pink curls for breast cancer awareness month!

Dream Team

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This week, I had a routine check-up with my radiation oncologist. Since I’m just over two years post-treatment, I see each member of my oncology team regularly, but spaced out among them all so that I feel very comfortable because I’m still being monitored so closely. My radiation oncologist is the one with whom I’ve had the most interaction, simply because I saw him most often during the course of my treatment.

I’ve been thinking a lot about how things happen the way they are meant to ever since this visit for many reasons. First and foremost, the way I came to find this amazing team that has been so kind to me is what really makes me feel like the universe took care of me when I really needed the intervention. When I first received the message from my gynecology office that I needed to consult with a breast surgeon to schedule a biopsy(still not thinking I had cancer), they gave me a list of names that they generally refer patients like me to. Having lived in North Brunswick since graduating from Rutgers University (way back in the 1990’s), my first inclination was to call the surgeon located at the very well known cancer center at St. Peter’s University Hospital. Upon calling, I found myself explaining my story to at least a half a dozen different people, being transferred (sometimes without warning) to someone else and ultimately was disconnected. I called back right then and the same thing happened. That was a universal sign to me that I would not be cared for in the way I wanted, especially as I was about to embark upon a journey that I was so unsure of.

My next choice out of the list of surgeons I was given was a highly regarded all female surgical staff in Princeton. Being affiliated with Penn Health is nothing to shake a stick at either. I picked up the phone and dialed hoping for a better experience. What greeted me on the other end of the line was exactly what I needed. One woman patiently listened to my story, offering only kindness and compassion, clearly aware of how scary it is for a woman to be in the situation I was in. She did not interrupt me and when I was done she asked the appropriate questions, told me she was going to place me on a brief hold, and came back with dates that were available for me to have my stereotactic biopsy done.

In person, I was treated with the same amount of humanity and understanding as I went through the process of biopsy, waiting for results, the delivery of the results, and all the icky stuff that followed. After surgery, I received a get well card from the nurses and my surgeon, and every follow up appointment has been a pleasure. Everyone is always excited that I’m doing well, and we talk in time frames that remind me how even though I’m more than two years post-treatment, they are still just as kind, and offer constant mental high fives. I find the same to be true of my medical oncologist and his nurses, and these are the two oncologists on my team with whom I had the least interaction.

I know this path like the back of my hand.

Going to my radiation oncologist is always the biggest reminder of how lucky I am to have ended up with this stellar team. Going to the Matthews Center for Cancer Care at Penn Medicine Princeton Medical Center for my check-ups, brings me back to when I walked the same path at 3:00 pm every single day for six weeks. I am greeted with hugs and genuine love by those people who greeted me that way every single day for six weeks. I go into the women’s changing area and change into a gown, just like I did every single day for six weeks. I store my things in locker number 13, as I did every single day for six weeks.

This week at my appointment, “my” locker was taken. I sat there, staring at number 13, almost not knowing what to do because all of a sudden, for the first time ever, I had to make a change. I chose 11. It’s right next to 13, and once upon a time it was my number when I played softball. I’m going to come back to this in a bit, but first I have to talk about what happened when I made my way back for my appointment.

The nurse came over, gave me a huge hug, and we chit chatted as we headed to my exam room. I didn’t have to remind her of how I step on the scale backwards or how we never talk about the number. It’s almost like coming home to family. I was obligated to fill her in on my latest diagnosis (diabetes) and the way that she looked at me relayed to me how shocked and upset she was, without her even having to utter a word. We chatted for a few more minutes (like catching up with an old friend) and then she went to get my radiation oncologist.

Hospital gown selfie, sporting my pink for #pinktober!

He came in the room, looked at me and said, “Well your immune system sucks, but you’re awesome,” and then he proceeded to give me a hug. We talked like old friends, and not so much like a doctor and his patient. Of course he asked all the questions necessary regarding my health, and answered the questions I had, all in a professional manner. It’s a skill when doctors are able to walk the line this way, and it makes a patient feel like a human and not a number in a chart. I never feel rushed. I feel like the top priority at all times. Sadly, this is not how I feel when I see other doctors and specialists who see me regularly. But my oncology team is so special to me. At the end of our appointment, the doctor said he’d normally see me back in six months (April) but he wanted to see me in May instead so that he could see pictures from our upcoming wedding in April. Then he gave me a hug, before leaving to see his next patient.

On my way out I always stop to chat with the office manager, who I saw every single day for six weeks. We were talking about my locker not being available for the first time ever. We got to talking about karma, positivity, and how things always seem to unfold the way are were meant to. We decided that the reason my locker was taken was that the woman who was using it needed it. Maybe she’s in the middle of her treatment and feeling hopeless. Maybe she’s at the point where all of her skin has been burned off and she Is so raw that wearing any clothing is painful. Maybe she just started treatment and she’s so scared at what lies ahead for her. Whatever the case is, I passed the positivity torch (so to speak) on to someone who needs it more than I do.

I think the thing I am more grateful for than anything is that the universe led me to this team, despite the fact that it wasn’t my first choice in the beginning. It’s moments like this that remind me that sometimes when things don’t go as planned, they turn out even better than you could even imagine. I feel this way about so many things in my life, and it just makes my cup of gratitude spill over.

A lot of people in my situation with Multiple Sclerosis, breast cancer, and now diabetes might feel otherwise, but for me, I have learned so much about myself and others through each of these diagnoses, and I believe I have experienced it all because I needed to learn lessons that are taught by overcoming adversity and accepting challenges.

I always rise to challenges because it the biggest part of being a perfectionist that still remains with me even though I’ve worked hard to let go of many perfectionist qualities that no longer serve me. I’m happy to accept whatever challenges come my way, but as strong as I can be, it would nice if I had a little break right about now!

Loving these kicks of mine. I get high fives from random strangers who say things like “Alright! 5 years for me… how about you?”

The moral of the story this week can best be summed up by the Rolling Stones: “You can’t always get what you want, but if you try sometimes, you just might find you get what you need.”

I couldn’t agree more.

Papa Rankin

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I have been holding off on writing on this topic because it has been so raw and difficult to imagine but time has a way of not healing the hurt, but just making it more tolerable.

At the end of August while all of us Rankins were enjoying a beautiful first annual beach vacation together, we all awoke on the morning of August 29th to frantic messages from my father-in-law’s (here forward to be referred to as Papa Rankin) wife to contact her immediately. It was a rare occurrence for any of us to hear from her, and so we knew whatever news she had for us would not be good.

He loved his garden so much and this is him being extra silly.

What we learned upon returning her calls was that my Papa Rankin had gotten up in the middle of the night to use the bathroom, and had a massive heart attack that took his life before he even hit the floor.

We all took this information in, in a state of complete and utter shock. Though he wasn’t in perfect health and he had his issues, he was under the care of good doctors who were managing his medical problems. None of us expected that the last time we saw him would be the last time we would see him.

Somehow,  I believe it unfolded the way it was meant to. Very seldom is the entire family together this way, and here we were, all able to comfort each other in a way that would not have been possible if we were not on vacation together. We laughed and cried as we shared our memories of this man, who was my Pops for over 25 years.

This was my first Rich Rankin original, which he gave to me when I got my first apartment on my own.

All of us had little bumps in the course of our relationships with him, but that did not diminish our sadness or how good it felt to be able to lean on each other through the grief.

For me, I will always remember him as the man who could speak on just about any topic, joked freely, and always checked in on his “daughter” with little text messages to make sure I was ok and to tell me that he was thinking about me.

Early on in my relationship with Bruce, Papa Rankin (knowing I’m a sucker for tie-dye) set up a whole tie-dying day in which we tie dyed anything we could get our hands on. While everyone else wore gloves, he and I did not and consequently ended up with tie-dyed hands for days.

When we bought our first house, he spent every weekend for three months helping us paint (he was a contractor by trade) so that we could move into a freshly painted home.

He came to the rescue when Bruce was emptying out our “illegal” attic space and his foot came through the ceiling the day before the home inspection for the buyers when we sold that first house.

He even came to help us paint the very first room we cared about in our new home, precariously balancing on a ladder propped up to reach the very tall open layout that attracted us to the home on the first place.

Yup. Thats him on top of the ladder.

He never forgot a birthday or an anniversary, and even though we did not always see eye to eye (politically mostly, especially in recent years), I never questioned that he loved us.

His concern for me and my illnesses was always apparent and I knew that. I didn’t need a lot from him because I was comforted just knowing he was there.

Holding his grandson on Christmas Eve.

He was a brilliantly talented artist, whose work we proudly display in our home, and now they are his legacy. Everything we have will eventually be passed down to our nephew, who at age four, will always be told stories about his crazy grandpa so that his memory will not be forgotten.

My Papa Rankin loved abstract painting and experimenting with color. This, however, is a favorite of mine because it is Bruce and his mom in the shadows.

Since that day, relationships in our family have grown deeper, and we don’t waste an opportunity to express how much we love each other. We share more openly, love more freely, and hug each other more tightly because none of us can see the future, and we want to remember each other in meaningful ways always.

My advice to everyone is to live your life the way you see fit, and don’t forget to let your loved ones know just how much they mean to you. As the saying goes, “enjoy life today, because yesterday is gone, and tomorrow is not promised”.

I couldn’t agree more.

Laughter

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This week, I am bringing back a piece that I co-wrote with my friend, Mary. I have been thinking about this blog entry a lot given how much icky stuff has happened in my world. Two weeks ago I spent the day with Mary, and just being in her presence was enough to help me move beyond the ick and embrace the moment. She has a way of doing that, and her friendship has been such a blessing in my life. So without further ado, here is what Mary and I wrote together a few years back. I hope you can find something that at least makes you chuckle!

Me and my Mary <3

Laughter makes the world go round. It connects our bodies to our minds, and connects us to each other. It can dissipate stress, and it’s the most effective medication I’ve ever used. It’s a timeless expression of peace and happiness that never disappoints, and it’s worth every single wrinkle that the consummately happy person is left with. 

What were we cracking up about, you ask? It was a big blue ball. Yup. 12 years old inside a grown-up body!

What were Mary and I cracking up about, you ask? It was a big blue ball. Yup. 12 years old inside a grown-up body!

My friend, Mary (who is co-writing this piece with me), has the best laugh ever. I loved her from the very first second I heard that laugh because it is truly contagious (and she says the same about mine!). Sometimes I can’t even understand what she is saying when she tells a funny story because she laughs her way through it, and yet, I still laugh. Because I can’t help it. And because we all should laugh so freely and easily, without concern for anything except how amazing it feels to laugh out loud (literally), regardless of how boisterous it might be. 

Mary dropped this cigarette and it landed just like you see it...great material for laughter even though she was alone. We shared this laugh with her when she sent us the picture.

Mary dropped this cigarette and it landed just like you see it…great material for laughter even though she was alone. We shared this laugh with her when she sent us the picture.

There is so much laughter to be found in the simple routines of life. Far too many people spend their days focused on the minutia of daily living. If you’re open to seeing the humor, particularly in yourself, there is no shortage of experiences that are laughable. Sometimes there is no reason to laugh, but there definitely won’t be if you don’t allow it to happen. Both Mary and I take every opportunity to laugh, even when we are alone, simply because it feels so damn good. In fact, one memorable moment of bonding with laughter was when someone said something to the effect, “what is it that you do do?”, which caused us both to laugh hysterically to the point that we were unable to even catch our breath. When we finally calmed down, I turned to Mary and asked, “what are you, like 12?”, which caused us to start laughing all over again.  The point being that it doesn’t need to be some huge joke with an anticipated punchline in order to be funny! I even laugh at myself when no one is around because why wouldn’t I? And Mary does the same thing. 

Just a little Charlie's Angels fun. Check out Charlie's perfect eyebrow raise!

Just a little Charlie’s Angels fun. Check out Charlie’s perfect eyebrow raise!

Surrounding yourself with people who make you laugh is as important to healthy living as having a team of good doctors that you trust. Luckily, both Mary and I participated in a wellness program for MS patients, which provided us with educational information as well as exercise classes. Meeting each other in these classes was fate because from the first moment we met, we laughed. And we laughed hard. Whether it was mid-exercise or post exercise, we were always laughing. We laughed at everything, ourselves included. In fact, laughing at ourselves is one of our favorite things to do. 

We even laughed through our surgical masks when Carla had her treatment and needed to take extra precautions because her immune system was wiped out.

We even laughed through our surgical masks when Carla had her treatment and needed to take extra precautions because her immune system was wiped out.

Beyond that, we have an amazing circle of MS family, and when we are all together, all we do is laugh. We laugh until we cry, our faces hurt from smiling, and our abs are screaming like we just spent hours working out. And when all is said and done, nothing could possibly make us feel any better. No amount of medicine could induce such a state of happiness and well-being. It’s pretty powerful, and a whole lot of fun. 

Sometimes it's hard to be patient with the girl who is constantly laughing...

Sometimes it’s hard to be patient with the girl who is constantly laughing…

Although Mary and I find it hard to understand, some people simply do not have the automatic response of laughter. Frustration and anger are often initial responses to certain situations in life. This is a normal response, even if we don’t exactly grasp that concept. If you are one of those people, you might want to think about the people in your life who thrive on laughter, and when you encounter a situation, ask yourself what those people would do. For example, a friend of ours once fell at home, lodging his butt in the wall. His backside was through the sheet rock while his arms and legs dangled free. His initial response was frustration because he fell. Then he was angry because of the fact that his fall created a BIG hole in the wall. When he freed himself and walked to the other side of the wall, and saw that the damage didn’t go all the way through it, he stopped. He asked himself, “what would Mary do?”, and he realized the answer quickly: she would laugh. And so he did. And so do we! Every single time we think about it, talk about it, or envision it in our minds.

This is Typical of me and Mary… cracking up just trying to take a stinkin’ selfie!

While laughter can’t cure the MS that bonds us to each other, it strongly bonds us to each other more than MS ever could. We look at life through the filter of laughter, and we understand that laughing at ourselves is just a springboard for more laughter. If you can’t laugh at yourselves, just call us. We’ll be happy to laugh at you any time you want!

This picture is a perfect representation of laughing our way through an ordinary day.

This picture is a perfect representation of laughing our way through an ordinary day.