tired but okay

I took it one step at a time today, playing everything by ear. I'm not used to doing that! We visited with a friend, Chris, in the morning as I ate my small, bland breakfast; I did my morning journal entry and a little email, took a nap, ate a small lunch, then went to do some errands -- picking up a new anti-nausea prescription, and the acupuncture wrist-bands Marianne suggested in her post. Then I went for a swim in the late afternoon -- decided that waiting until the evening Masters' Swim (7:45-9:00pm) might be too much for me, plus it's a lot easier for me to monitor my own sensations when I'm swimming alone than when I'm with a group. I did take the coach's workout with me, and got through about half of it in about 50 minutes -- not bad. I felt quite sluggish at first, and was definitely aware of unusual sensations... hard to say what's what, with all the drugs running through me! The workout for tonight included the following quote:

"Breaststroke is an athletic event; butterfly is a political statement." ~Paul Tsongas (a Masters' Swimmer and Massachusetts political leader who survived his first bout with cancer to go on to run for the presidency in 1992, and who died of cancer in 1997). 

I thought of this as I experimented with pushing my body into the "fly," this most extreme, and for me, most fun, of the strokes; my "political statement," for today, is, "Yes, I can." 

I then met with a Strozzi buddy, Liz, and we did some Jo practice by the Yahara river -- naming what we want to "cut out" of our lives, and what we want to "cut in"; for me, I want to cut out the negative, fearful stories, and cut in being ever more open to all of the love and support. Then we talked by her cozy wood stove, and she loaned me books on herbal supports for cancer treatment. And I skipped stopping at the Willy St. Coop on the way home -- a major sacrifice to my tired, achey body needing the next installment of food, drugs, and sleep.