First chemo, kicked pretty hard out of the gate for four days, then the tide goes out and you get your footing. Then for reasons unknown, 6 days later, I went about having a “normal” day. By normal, I mean how I would have operated prior to being enrolled in Camp Chemo.

I had a client that morning. A bit of down time. Rode my bike (slowly) to Yin. My first yoga in 10 days. How wonderful it was to not be teaching. Not driving the boat. Tell me what to do, please.

Pedaled slowly home. Had lunch. Had a client. Paid bills. Read for awhile. Rode my bike to dance class…

Are you wiping the tears of WTF?! from your eyes as you knowingly shake your head, “What is wrong with her?!” Yeah.

Although the body felt fairly okay, my brain exploded in emotional meltdown. “I’m never gonna dance again, chemo feet have got no rhythm!…..” I am fat and steroid bloated, I am old, I am utterly OUT of my body, I have no business being in this class with these young fit, healthy women…I will not dance anymore ever again. I am sick, what if I really am dying, what if this is the last time I ever get to dance and it ends like this. A shortened future of senior water aerobics and Zumba for the infirm?!” Blah, blah, blah.

It was ridiculous.

A million tears. My ladies gathered around, held me. Loved me. “How can we help? Are people bringing you food? Is there something organized? We will take care of it.”

I rode my bike the few blocks home and listened to my body..”NO MORE DANCING RIGHT NOW! Be quiet. Be soft. Do less. Be still. Walk. Gentle Yin. It is not business as usual. Your business, your work is to heal your body, so knock it off!” Got it..

Within 24 hours my friend Erin had put together a Meal Train site, with a write up that made my heart swell, all but four dates are covered with people bringing me amazing meals and money has been donated as well to help with medical expenses. Blown away.

Thank you. Thank you. Thank you.


I am saying “thank you and yes, please” again and again. It is my mantra. I am leaning into the support, the love, the generosity and letting it be part of the healing. Crowd surfing. Trusting. People want to help. They want to tend to each other. This outpouring is beyond a Village, it is a small country of people who are tending to me. I am staggered at their love and generosity.

There is a part of me that feels guilty about this. My cancer has been removed. It was in a low stage of development. It is not metastatic, although it is the third time it has shown itself. My prognosis is “We got it, now let’s do clean up for safety measures.” I do not feel that I am living with cancer, but making my way through chemo and radiation. The ease of my situation is not lost on me at all. I am humbled by that and it is still so, so challenging.

This week’s treatment was a kinder, gentler flavor of “really not right.” I appreciated that tremendously. As I get ready to go in again the day after tomorrow, I try not to have any expectation of how it will be. We never know. *Life hack.

In as much as I am crowd surfing on the love, I need, in equal measure, to be willing to toss myself into the mosh pit of treatment, trust that process and let myself be carried forward to a new and unknown destination.

But at the very center of the crowd is me holding my arms wide open to catch myself.

I’ve got you Jodeen. I will choose you and take care of you first.