Bob and weave
I had a "wine with a black coffee chaser" kind of morning one day last week.
My friends/village people met late morning here in Dux for a cheers-or-tears-for-the-last-day-of-school drink. One glass of cool pink and a few cups of hot black later and I was laughing so hard my cheeks hurt.
This time last year, I was talking about not pushing myself too hard after my treatment and how my other cheeks hurt. And legs. And head.
My, how time does shift the pain.
It's been quite a Spring, and I haven't told you much about it. I know you miss the math, so I'll make sure to get that in here somewhere.
You already know I had my last infusion in March and I'm officially DMD-free (disease modifying drugs). I decided to celebrate by continuing the theme of doing something new and out of my comfort zone. It took some mighty willpower, though.
One morning after school bus, without having told anyone, I got in my truck and steered it slightly north. I spent a mile coming up with 15 good reasons to turn around and go home. The second mile was victorious over me. Mile three won, but only by a point. Mile four won again. Mile five--the final mile--found me panicking, but I parked the truck. I walked in the door of the building after all of that, only to find it empty. "Yay! Fantastic! I got out of it (but can still say I tried!)," I thought.
Then I hear "welcome!" from behind me.
"Son of a b*tch!" (sorry, Mom). Now I have to go through with it!"
And that, my friends, is how you join a kick boxing class just a year after chemo and a stem cell transplant. You stop listening to your own excuses. I am proud of myself and my only goal is strength building and balance.
And to have Halle Berry arms.