Two-hour yoga, tennis slice, and other fun stuff

For New Year's Day, I first checked Serenity Yoga to see if there were any classes – there weren't – so I tried Yoga Center Amherst  and saw that they had a two-hour class combining music, chanting, and asanas.

So I signed up and went. It felt like the right place to be. Apparently a lot of other people felt so too. We were packed in. That was OK. It created a good energy inviting you to talk to your neighbor and go with the flow.

At one point when we were left to do our own thing and it got a little confusing, I got into one of my favorite and most calming poses, legs up the wall, supported by a block, only legs in the air, without a wall, like this image from Gaia. (I read someplace that you should do legs up the wall every day. It's a great way to get your thoughts to take a nap.)

I had vowed to take the day off from writing, but that didn't happen. I walked over to the Black Sheep Deli and got a coffee and a treat and sat in a favorite window seat. My resolution of staying calm got hijacked by the the caffeine. I guess going with the flow meant going and getting a coffee and writing.

Next I went to the Hadley Target and found it packed, like the yoga studio, only with a different vibe. It seemed like everyone who wasn't at yoga was shopping.

I had called Monday for my ride to Boston (for the light therapy, or ECP) but everyone had left early. I waited on hold early Tuesday morning for about 45 minutes, and when someone finally picked up, they said they couldn't do same-day service. I remembered to book ahead through February, but in the meantime I drove myself.

Due to accumulating scar tissue in my left arm, the nurse has had to jiggle the needle around. This is not a good feeling. Once in, it stung and then hurt, but some Tylenol took the edge off. Since I have been using two needles, the process goes much faster, around two hours instead of three.

Three sessions ago, I was curious about why my hematocrit was a little low, a little over 29. The curiosity bordered on concern. But two weeks ago it was 32, and yesterday it was 33. (Normal range for women is 34.9 to 44.5.) The doctor who visited me said that the lower count resulted from loss of blood in the procedure.

I slept at Diane and David's and then got up early enough to get to Bay Road on time for my tennis contract at 10. The traffic leaving Newton made me a little nervous. But it cleared up and I made it. We had some good games, but I don't understand what's up with one of the women. Sometimes she's friendly, at other times prickly.

She doesn't like the way I slice when we warm up at the net (says it isn't a good warmup because she can't hit it back), so today I hit it flat. The last time she said it, I said that's how I play, and I continued to do it, but in the interests of a good warmup, I did it differently today.

One of the players in George's summer group said that when she goes to Florida, her slicing gets everyone mad, so it must be the same effect. It's hard to change, because when we're with George, we hear about it when we DON'T slice. By the way, it works pretty well in a game.

Roger's backhand slice

Then, when she was at the net warming up, she didn't think I got enough to her, and she complained that she wasn't getting a good warmup. THEN when, in between points, I hit the ball over to her and said "heads up," or "coming," (one of the two) it didn't come near her, but she said something in an annoyed tone because she didn't like the way I sent it back. I'm still not sure what the problem was. I think maybe she wanted me to throw it instead of hit it. If I had thrown it, it wouldn't have gone very far.

Geez Louise.

I've been on the verge of saying something to her, and some day I might, but it hasn't come to that. Some day when we're warming up, maybe I'll ask to either be with her or hit opposite someone else and say that the reason for it is that she doesn't like the way I hit. Maybe that will get the point across that I've paid George and The Enfield Tennis Club a lot for that slice and I'm not going to give it up.

Tennis in the heat, weird dreams in bed

At my happy place, Holyoke Canoe Club

I dreamt I was in Atlantic Beach (Long Island) site of idyllic summer days. My father was gone. My mother didn’t own the house anymore but had an agreement with the woman who did own it that we could use it on weekends. We went for a weekend. I planned to run on the boardwalk and take a walk with my mother. 

We heard that the woman was coming earlier than expected, with her kids. I have seen this woman before in my dreams. She isn’t nice. She wants to rearrange the furniture. We have to “butter her up” so she lets us continue to use it. I say to one of her daughters, “I grew up playing kickball in these streets. I need to keep coming back.” 

She says she will take care of it. But they want us to leave early. There will be no time for the run or the walk. I ask my mother if we can stay an extra couple of hours and maybe hang out with our neighbors, the Lublins. It doesn’t seem likely.

In another part of the dream, I am down at the ocean. It is supposed to be calm. But the waves are rough. A tidal wave approaches. I dive into it, then come up for air. I run to dry land, into a room, but the water seeps through. Then I am standing under an overhang. The wave crashes over it. Tiny droplets fall onto my head. Tidal wave dreams seem to be about surging emotions. I have a lot of variations. I think I did OK in this one.

I also dreamt that I walked into my mother’s jewelry store and stood back in shock when I saw my aunt Cinny behind the counter. I thought, “But you’re dead!” When I walked closer, I saw that it was a woman with red hair, with a strong resemblance to my aunt. 

Out of the blue, a voice said, “You believe in Jesus!”

I said, “I do not believe he is the son of God, but I do believe he was a good man.”

NEWSPAPER DREAM alert! 

My friend and editor Mimi thinks I should stop already, but I don’t know how to tell my subconscious to get out of there.

In the dream, I went into the newspaper office and talked to some reporters who were there. I asked if (managing editor) Wayne would let me write three reviews a week. I said I really missed being in the office and would even do it for free. A reporter said they were letting go, not hiring. I decided to go to the library to look for other newspapers that might accept a review. Then I remembered that I was a freelancer and could pitch anywhere I wanted.

In real life, I have been playing a lot of pretty good tennis. It is a little crazy to do this in the heat. It is of course not good for my skin. But I don’t see how you play tennis this summer without getting sun. I finally found a relatively comfortable sun protection shirt, made in Australia. I wear sun protection gloves. I use sunscreen. It is my therapy and so I continue to do it.

I have skipped a couple of George’s Wednesday clinics at the Canoe Club in favor of yoga with Meghan at the Hampshire Y. The clinics are like summer camp for adults, and a lot of fun, but it is also so much sun despite starting out on George’s “air conditioned” court near the river. He makes it really difficult if you say you need to leave early. (I know, I’m a big girl, but if you know George, you’ll know what I mean about how hard it is to do the opposite of what he says. Note to self: Next time just do it, to save your skin.) Also: Do not neglect the yoga. It provides an important balance.

I had to play singles in a summer league match. I haven’t played singles in a long time. I have a claim to fame in winning at the Districts in singles. A long long time ago.

When I was practicing on the Mount Holyoke courts, I chatted with the coach running the summer tennis camp. I told him I was a little nervous about playing singles. He said, “I always tell people, 'You’re a tennis player, not a singles or doubles player.'" That made an impression.

Out on the court, I said “bounce, hit,” a method I learned from reading The Inner Game of Tennis. It helps quiet mental chattering and calm nerves. I reminded myself that I was strong. I fixed my strings (not really because there is nothing to fix; it is just another technique that improves focus.) I bounced around on my toes, despite getting tired. It helped me keep energized.

We played the whole two hours. I have to admit that by the end, my back was stiffening up. 

I won in two sets, in a “timed match,” meaning we ran our of time when I was ahead by two games at 5-3. I think I won the first set 7-5, but it is mushing in my memory with last night’s winning match in the heat, this time doubles, with my summer team, the Paper Dolls, with a fun partner. I had already played in the morning with a regular Monday group. When we stopped, the sweat was dripping into my eyes to the point where I couldn’t see.

I mentioned to my partner that at Dana-Farber, my home-away-from-home, they wouldn't be happy about all the sun on my skin. I can't remember who knows what.

She asked if I was in treatment. I have a good nutshell summary that consists of past leukemia and current side effects including problems with my skin. If there is time and it seems appropriate, I throw in four bone marrow transplants. She said you would never know it.

When we were done, I walked very slowly out of  Forest Park . You could say I trudged. I headed straight to Friendly's for a mint chocolate chip ice cream cone.  By the time I got it, that ice cream tasted pretty great.

Playing tennis, tasting wine, standing on chairs

Tennis friends at Black Birch Vineyard

Last night I stood up on a chair to get a bud vase for a pink rose that a tennis friend gave us to mark the year anniversary of her mother's death. We all raised a rose to our mothers, on this earth or not, but always with us.

For a moment I considered whether I should do it but then realized that I could. Normally this would not be a big deal, but I thought back to my progression from hardly being able to stand up and sit down in a chair, to in no way having the strength or balance to climb up on one, to now having strong enough leg muscles to be able to do it.

I put the rose on the table next to the zinnias I picked from the garden. I can't believe how tall they got. One is almost as tall as I am. When I cut them I could hear my mother say, "Don't be afraid to cut them," meaning make sure to bring them in so you can enjoy them. At the beach, she had flowers everywhere. She was especially proud of her roses.

The rose-giving happened yesterday at Black Birch Vineyard in Southampton. It was our second year going to this beautiful place. We brought a picnic to have along with wine: either a glass or a wine tasting. I remembered the wine I liked from last year but did the wine tasting anyway. I'm not a wine connoisseur but had fun learning the proper way of tasting. I did two of the whites twice because I didn't want the reds and played a game of turning my back and guessing when I sipped. I got the Epic White right (pear tastes and other fruity nuances but not too sweet), yay, and went ahead and bought a bottle. Or two.

Flowers keeping company

Before we went, we played tennis at the Rogers Field next to Holyoke High School. It was the sister teams, Holyoke's Paper Dolls and Valley Dolls from the summer league. I'm not playing as much team tennis as I used to, but I still like playing some because otherwise I would miss the camarederie and little outings like these.

But informal tennis like we played is in many ways more fun.

For example, when an opponent lost a game on a double fault, I made up a rule: no double-faulting to lose the game.

Similarly when we play at the Canoe Club, we occasionally ask for another chance if we do something really stupid. You wouldn't do this all the time or else we would never finish. But on Wednesday the wind totally took a ball that was coming towards my backhand. Since I had been working on that shot (no bent elbow), I asked for another, moved up closer, and made the shot.

This would be a week off from going to Boston, but this morning I have a dermatology appointment. I have some new spots, and I would be pleasantly surprised if at least one or two were not squamous cells.

Standing (and playing) on two feet

I hit a few with Donna at the Field Club in Longmeadow yesterday. It was really too hot, but we planned it for 12:30-ish, so we went anyway. There aren't too many clay courts around here, and I like the idea of playing on a softer surface just in case I fall.

My left rib and arm still hurt from my driveway fall, but it didn't bother me too much, except a little on my backhand, which I can give myself as an excuse for why my backhand was so bad. We didn't stay too long, (well, about an hour), but I felt so energized being out there that it hardly bothered me. I made sure to drink plenty of water.

I hit quite a few forehands into the net until I remembered, "If you follow through, it will go over." Sure enough, it worked. And hey, I stood on two feet the whole time.

I've been making progress at physical therapy, too. It shows. I can walk in a straight line now (woo-hoo, no bumping into my walking companions), but I wish the work would still show better results at home, i.e. falling in my driveway, although it's not like I pull those stunts all the time.

My big triumph last session was balancing on one foot on a trampoline for 20 seconds. My worst exercise was having trouble walking heel to toe on a line. I'm working on that at home. Funniest moment: Rob, my therapist, said he was going to give me a new exercise consisting of walking sideways with one foot in front of the other alternating with one in back. "The hora," I shouted, dancing down the line while singing Hava Nagila. "Well, I guess we don't have to do that one," he said. I told him it might be genetic. (So maybe to keep from wobbling I should dance the hora all over town?)

I have an appointment at Dana-Farber tomorrow, followed by a bone density scan. Did I say that I had an appointment for the scan a couple of weeks ago and canceled it? Dr. Alyea asked why, and I had one good reason and one bad reason. The good one was that I had scheduled it on a day that was had gotten too busy. The bad one was that I knew the results wouldn't be good and didn't want to hear about it. WRONG! He said I might as well find out so that it can be treated. Yeah, yeah, I was going to reschedule it anyway.

Barry is kind enough to drive me tomorrow. I went last time by myself and it was fine, but it's better at this stage if I get a ride. Joe and Katie are both working. I go on a little guilt trip about asking him (or anyone) to spend what amounts to an entire day, but he has the time and seems happy to do it.

I'm going to give him a blueberry pie.