A few years back after receiving radiation on my hips and pelvis my doctor had given me a lot of precautions. No heavy exercise, no using the treadmill, no high-impact exercises, very minor elliptical and most definitely yoga and water aerobics. This was a bit hard for me to take due to the fact that up until I was re-diagnosed, I was playing soccer on an intramural team. In fact, the day of the re-diagnosis, before I had learned the cancer had metasized to the bones, I went to the gym and started a membership. To me, it felt like a tug of war with cancer; it was holding all the cards and had control. Besides, I am the type of person who just needs to keep actively moving. If I’m not sweating (besides my hot flashes) I don’t feel like I’m doing anything.
When I got the “yellow” light (to this day my doctors have never really given me a “green” light, but have decided to share their heads and recommend I take it easy and be safe when I tell them of my adventures). I decided I needed to find something that could help strengthen my upper body. I am always on guard for lymphodema. So, I thought about pilates and learned about the Reformer machine which I like but is very expensive. I also tried a few different types of yoga (which was okay) but I still needed something more. I found an ad about pole dancing for exercise. In my head it was very logical. I could only imagine that it was a job requirement to have a strong upper body to do things people do on the pole. I decided to sign up for six classes figuring the only way to commit to the workout is to commit my wallet.
Keep in mind, I signed up for the absolute beginners classes which I figured would be a breeze. Back in my hay day, I was pretty good on the monkey bars and I still sear if my mom had let me continue my acrobatic classes after third grade I could have been an Olympic gymnast.
I go to my first class. I didn’t realize there was a wardrobe requirement. My shirt, sneakers and sweatpants weren’t quite cutting it. Next problem was the class for absolute beginners was filled with intermediates since the other class was held too late in the evening for most people to attend. I was the only true absolute beginner. Everyone around me was flipping around, swirling and not to mention wearing heels that by just trying them on would have broken my ankle.
My initial instinct was to run but I figured I had some athletic skill and I could figure it out. I took my spot in the front of the classroom and the class began. Needless to say, it was one of the worst 45-minute sessions I ever lived, which is saying a lot because I have gone through some aggressive chemotherapy. The teacher wasn’t ready for my level of beginner.
I spun around once and hit my left side, which was still inflamed (I originally had a translap but had to switch to implants due to wanting the breast even after the second mastectomy). I did a bit of damage to myself, which didn’t hurt, but it’s hard to say when you’re bleeding from your chest “it’s okay. I’m just in the middle of getting my breast reconstructed because of a mastectomy,” and consider myself logical.
When the class finally ended, I ran as fast as I could. I realized I had eaten a seriously big piece of humble pie and had the urge to shake hands and feel the arm muscles of anyone who was in the profession of dancing on a pole. Most importantly, realizing I need to do a lot more research and potentially take a sample class to figure out what would work best for me.
Hindsight is beyond 20/20; it’s amazing how smart I am after an experience. I could have really hurt myself but as my mom always says, “God takes care of babies and fools, which category do you fit into?”