Saturday, February 27, 2010


I went to yoga class this morning (thanks to B's encouragement!), and needed it badly, but it was a rough journey to get there -

I could not have coffee because I'm out of cream.
I have my period.
My car was stuck in the driveway, and I had to walk over a mile in the snow/slush.
The man walking in front of me was smoking, and ashes were coming back at me.
I was still emotionally raw due to yesterday's trauma of being stuck in the snow with a child in my care.

By the time I got to the yoga studio, I was so mad and tired I wanted to skip straight to savasana. I followed class as best I could. I couldn't lay flat on my stomach, and kept myself slightly propped up - unlike after the first 2 surgeries, this time there is a tiny bit of stitch poking out of my incision, like fishing line, and it creates tenderness. I spent a lot of time in child's pose during class, and was so focused on protecting my breast that the resulting tension in my body led to a headache.

Partway through class, my gaze was drawn to the window as the sun suddenly burst through the clouds for the first time in 5 days, and I was so giddy with relief and joy that I fell out of Warrior I and just sat there staring at the light. I tried to absorb all of that light and keep it inside of me.

When I was in a half wheel, on my back with my hips lifted off the floor, I gazed down the length of my body - at my breast that's been through so much, my crooked ribcage, my bony hip bones that suddenly seemed more bony than ever - and I lost the rhythm of my breath as I suddenly felt the tears rising behind my eyes. With nothing in my field of vision other than my own torso, I stared at it with a fear that surprised me. I suddenly realized, in a different way than I had before, there's cancer in there. And cancer is much more serious than I usually allow myself to acknowledge. I maintain my sense of humor and laugh my way through treatments and doctor appointments, but every now and then it just hits me, that cancer is serious and scary, in a way that makes my stage & grade irrelevant. Cancer is cancer.

I thought about how in a couple of weeks, I'm going to Sojourns (local multidisciplinary holistic health clinic) for new tests - a thermogram that scans 112 points on my body, and a Live Blood Cell Analysis. These two tests will analyze my entire body and overall health in a more thorough way than any procedure I've ever had before... between the two of them, we will have information about the functioning of every organ in my body, my immune system, congestion, toxic load, vitamin and mineral deficiency, size and shape and oxygen level of red cells, my BP and circulation, my teeth, my brain, digestion, tonsils and lymphs, and just everything. I was excited about this, because the information these tests yield will be incredibly helpful as I decide which treatments to do... but suddenly, when I was there in a half-wheel and staring at my torso, I was scared to know what's going on inside of my body that I don't know about. I feel so healthy, and say that I'm so healthy, and everyone who knows me knows me as being so healthy. But there were four and a half centimeters of cancer in me that I could not feel or detect, and that's clearly not healthy. I still say "Thank you for my life, my health, and the love that surrounds me" prayers every night, but... AM I healthy because I "feel" healthy, even though I have CANCER? What IS health? Who knows what else is in my body, or going on inside of my body, that I don't know about?? I am scared to know. Part of me doesn't want to know. But I HAVE to know.

I cried all through savasana.


  1. Britta, please affirm that the cancer is gone....gone from your body! You might not have it anymore! <3 you! Cathryn

  2. Sending you so many hugs and so much love. I hope you have found some peaceful moments today. I hope it helps to know that cancer may be cancer, but you're not alone in your fight. We are here for you, with you, and we love you, always!!!

    love, Margot