Chemo #7

Lucky number seven!  The doctor-in-training had to pay me a visit in the infusion room to examine my dry, itchy, rash-covered hand.  She recommended hydrocortisone and gave me the green light for more toxins.

Awhile ago I read that chemo patients tend to lose muscle mass, so I always attempt to do some form of exercise in the day or two leading up to a chemo session.  Yesterday I broke out the RBG Workout book that a friend gave me.  The problem is that when no one is watching, I tend to accidentally skip the page with the one-legged squats and the page with the full push-ups and maybe a few of the pages with abdominal exercises.  Am I ashamed to be cheating during the workout routine of an 86-year-old?  Yes.  Yes, I am.

When I need more accountability, I go to barre class.  Although now that the instructor knows I have cancer, I get a standing ovation simply for showing up.  If I lie down and take a power nap during the two-minute plank, she no longer aggressively reminds me to give it my all.  Hooray for low expectations!

I also have a Peloton spin bike collecting dust in my guest room.  Intense cardio isn't my priority right now.  If I lose any more weight, I'll end up an A-cup when I finally get flap reconstruction.  I burn enough calories caring for my children.  Yesterday Claire and I played hide-and-seek, and she counts to ten so fast (usually skipping a few numbers) that I have to do a parkour run across the house to find a hiding spot in time.  Three-year-olds make the best personal trainers.