Oh, so much has happened since last week, chiquitas! I bought a rebounder, went to Vancouver with my brood for a laser-fast trip, made a decision on my return to work date and slept on my side for a whole 30 minutes. Cue the angels singing.
First the mini-trampoline. I've been coveting one for as long as I've been hanging out with the c-dawg, but boobies, then hacked-off boobies kept getting in the way of realizing my dream of bouncing my way to nirvana. You see, rebounding (as they say in the biz) is damn near the best form of exercise known to girl-kind (and boy-kind for that matter). It's easy on the fake hip, you can do it while you're yelling at the kids and it gets all the good juices moving in the right direction in the old goddess pod. And when you're trying to dog the lymphadema monster (and ultimately the return of the c-monster), it gives your lymphatic system something to pee its pants over. In a word, it's the bestest.
After a seemingly jet-set stop at a fitness depot in good ol' Langford last week after having lunch with Stella and my parents, I spotted the perfect rebounder, marked down from $80 to $30. Sold. And sold again to my Ma, who has become my biggest fan (heck, she always has been). The thing is now set up in my sun room and I've been tentatively bouncing on it whenever I pass by. It feels mucho strange with my mini-boulders bouncing and yet not bouncing along with me, so I'm easing into it, but it feels good. Like fun and invigorating and calming all at the same time. Yay for me.
Then there's the big V. We decided to take the kids for an overnighter on Friday to visit Pete's mom and get a few visits into the deal. It was half lovely and half excruciating with baby doll Frances along for the ride. She was in turns darling and brutal and far from being a trooper when shoved out of her element. I love that bean of mine, but man, is she ever three.
And work? I decided that by the first week of May, my bod should be in good working order (or good enough) to get me on the communications forklift again. This has been a tough decision. When I left work last year I was feeling like I was at an all-time high professionally but an all-time low personally. There have been a lot of discussions with Pete and ruminations with myself over the past several months about what work should look like, what I want, what's possible, what my long-term plans are (long-term being one year, cuz I can't think beyond that any more). I've changed some of my cellular structure over the past nine months, but I'm still the ambitious, driven gal I was b.c. The only thing that's different is that I feel a greater clarity about what's important and how I want to manage my work and life. That's a very small sentence for some pretty big changes inside of moi.
But really, the most important thing of all is that the other day I was finally able to roll onto my right side and sleep on it for an entire half hour. Miracles are possible, people. They really are.
Have an action packed couple of cancer weeks ahead. Heart scan, Herceptin, regroup with Dr. A, my onc, GP visit, and hopefully a rehab rehash to see what I can do to get to the point of lifting midgets with my withered arms.