Wrists and knees and table balance

I specialize in teaching yoga to seniors, and strive to help improve their strength, flexibility and balance.  But I also have to modify poses and moves based on who's in the class.  One of the sequences I really like to do is table-child-table balance (where you balance on one knee and hand, while the opposite leg and arm are extended.  The pose improves balance and strength, but since you're close to the floor, it's a safer way to practice balance than standing.

But especially in two of my classes, people either have knee or wrist issues that make table and table balance difficult.  In another class, one lady has rheumatoid arthritis, and her wrists are swollen and painful.  I've offered modifications to people--for wrist issues, they can rest on their fists, for knees they can do poses and moves in a chair or near a wall.  For the arms, people can also balance on their forearms, but that is more challenging for the low back, especially if they aren't able to keep a firm low belly.

I'm thinking I should eliminate table and table balance from my senior repertiore--but then I need to add other poses and moves to compensate.  I may still try to do low plank and puppy/down dog, which start with table but don't stay there.  We'll see.  I'll need to add more seated work, and more standing (including at the wall).  Chairs aren't an option in two classes--the chairs they have are too big and cumbersome.  And I tried the folding chairs in another class, but they seemed to get in the way more than anything.  And I don't think people will want to sit in chairs--I think they pride themselves on being able to do "real yoga"--once they start sitting in chairs, it's "chair yoga".  For old people who can't do "real yoga".  Or maybe I'm just imagining that.  They all are able to get up from the floor to standing and back down again--a big plus.  I just need to be creative.  With senior yoga, the range of poses may be more limited than with a regular class, but there are more options for creative warm-ups, stretches and balances.

I wish I had a network of senior yoga instructors to consult with and learm from; mabye through Yoga Alliance we can develop that.

wrong order

I did it again--I ordered something at a restaurant that I order frequently, and got the name wrong.  The first time was a few weeks ago, when I ordered a mimosa at a local Mexican restaurant.  I meant to order a chispas (very refreshing!) but the wrong word came out.  And I didn't realize it until I got the drink.  My husband and son said they wondered, since I never order mimosas there, but they didn't say anything when I ordered.  Then last night, at our favorite steak place (our favorite restaurant, really--Ray's the Steaks), I ordered the usual--or so I thought.  I always get filet mignon with blue cheese sauce--it's so good, it's hard to think about ordering anything else.  But I asked for blue cheese dressing; the waiter repeated the order (now I know why--I'm probably the first person who asked for blue cheese dressing with their steak); my husband and son said nothing.  Until my son and I got our steaks.  He ordered blue cheese sauce with his steak, and I noticed his sauce looked darker than mine.  That's when they told me I had ordered blue cheese dressing.  They had wondered, but said nothing.  I asked them to say something the next time I mess up an order.

Is this normal memory loss/confusion?  The other day, I couldn't remember the name of my type of cancer, even though the word melanoma goes through my head hundreds of times each day now.  When I tried to retrieve the name while talking to my husband, I couldn't.

I keep looking at this discoloration on my leg, wondering if it will turn into (or is) cancer.  And the splotch on my face near the splotch that's melanoma.  Will the surgeon cut that out while he's at it--it's so close to the spot he'll be removing, and it's starting to look more ominous to me.

Hostas, crape myrtle, magnolia, glossy abelia, spirea--names of plants in our yard that I have trouble remembering.   I look at the plants and say the names over and over to help remember. Add melanoma to the list.

No water

Ugh.  The county workers have been outside our house for hours, making a muddy mess.  Apparently our next door neighbors complained about their water pressure, so the county is digging up the street to replace the pipe that goes to their house.  Not sure whether our house is the only one affected, but I wish they had let me know.  They first couldn't tell me whether they would need to turn off the water, then they did without telling me.  So I went out to ask them when they thought they could turn our water back on and they said several hours.  Hopefully by the middle of the night.  One toilet was working, now none are.

Guess I can use my witch hazel wipes to clean my face tonight; I won't be able to sleep if you face isn't clean.  And with this melanoma spot, which feels like it's clawing at my face,  I want to feel as clean as possible.

I just wish they had notified us in advance; we could have prepared better.  Looks like they got started and had no idea what they were in for or how long it would take.  At least the rain has held off.  But then again maybe it would wash the mud away.

Building confidence

It's taking a long time for me to feel confident and comfortable teaching yoga.  I started very slowly after I completed my training in the summer of 2011--the first opportunity I got was to apprentice with an experienced teacher who was leading adaptive yoga and pilates classes for a physical therapist's patients.  I was gaining experience, but had few opportunities to lead the classes on my own, and was pretty tentative when I did.  Just before I completed my training, my former employer asked me to come back to work part-time, so I didn't pursue other teaching opportunities.  I wanted to focus on teaching yoga to seniors, and those classes meet during the daytime.  I did chair yoga for about a year on a volunteer basis at a local senior apartment complex, but was using a video.  It gave me a start, but then became very limiting.  Just as my stint with my former employer was winding down, in Jan. 2013, I learned of an opportunity to teach at a senior center.  The timing was perfect--I started the week after my work ended.  The prior teacher had been teaching at the center for 5 years, and was very good (I observed a few of her classes), so I felt pretty intimidated taking over from her.  Hopefully, I've improved since then.  And they've added a second class, so now I'm teaching there twice a week.  People have been very polite, so if they're disappointed they don't show it.  I'm sure they miss the other instructor, but they enjoy doing yoga and have continued to sign up for the class.

And a few substitute teaching stints look like they're going to turn into more permanent arrangements.  I'm subbing for 2 senior yoga classes this summer, and as a result am teaching Monday through Thursday.  The Monday instructor isn't returning, and it's in the works for me to take over that class.  In addition, the yoga/pilates instructor decided to stop teaching at the physical therapy practice in January, so I've been the lead instructor there since then.  And another senior center where I subbed a few months ago has asked me to take over for that yoga instructor, who is quitting.  I'm also teaching once a month at Washington National Harbor--they have a great program through the summer where people can do yoga twice a week at no charge.

I'm still anxious about teaching, but less so as the weeks go by. I prepare a plan for each class--I started doing that initially to minimize the chances for panic; now I prepare them in part so I make sure I'm doing a different mix of stretches and poses each week.

I've received very positive feedback from students the two times I taught at the National Harbor, and today after one of my senior yoga classes, a woman in the front row blurted out "I love your class" and another said I should be on TV.

I have a lot of anxiety and self doubt, so this kind of feedback means more to me than it might to others.

Faster and faster

I'm trying to play the J.J. Quantz Presto (of Arioso and Presto) up to speed, which is quarter note=108.  That's extremely fast, and perhaps faster than I'm able to play.  The sixteenth note runs, that is.  After some weeks of taking it at a tempo that felt comfortable, I'm now pressing ahead with the speed, which is very difficult for me.  I can't play with the metronome going--I get too flustered when I can't keep up--but listen to it before I start to try to set the pace as close to that as I can get.  I lose focus and get distracted easily, and now the words melanoma and cancer run through my head a lot.  And I look at all the spots on my skin--I have so many.  I used to worry about them turning into age spots; now I wonder if they're going to develop into melanoma.  I read that the most common place for melanoma is women is on the leg (for men it's on the back).  I see a large splotch on my left leg, along the shinbone, and it seems to turn ominous before my eyes.  And my hands--I have red splotches; will they start to turn malignant?  Do I just watch spots and splotches turn into cancer, or is there a way to arrest their possible development?  Is whatever is currently on my skin already programmed to whatever it will become, or can I influence the future now that I know that melanoma in situ is a precursor for invasive melanoma?  Is the Trojan Horse already in place?

Wracking my brain

I'm staring at the plants and can't remember their name.  And my husband had just mentioned them a few hours earlier.  Hostas, that's it.  I have trouble retrieving names of other trees and shrubs around our yard--the magnolia; the crape myrtle.  Is this natural aging, or something worse?  I've started looking in the yard and repeating the names so I can remember them.  Yet I was watching a movie the other night, heard a voice I recognized, and realized it was Hugh Beaumont, who played Beaver's father.  Why do some obscure pieces of information come readily, while I struggle for others?  Especially labels for things.  I have to work at remember people's names, but that's a longer-standing issue.  I'm much better at remembering voices than faces.  But naming objects seems like it may be getting more difficult.  Guess I should monitor and observe.

The (little?) C

Melanoma in situ.  One very scary word; one very good phrase.  I had just read that some cancer doctors are recommending declassifying some "in situ" breast cancers so they are no longer considered to be cancer.  So when the physician's assistant said "melanoma in situ"  I knew the "in situ" was a good thing.  "In situ" means "in position" in Latin; in the context of skin cancer, it means the malignant cells are only on the outer surface of the skin (epidermis).  There is no invasion of the deeper layers, according to info on Cancerconnect.com, so essentially no potential for spread.  But it's still melanoma--"a very different and more dangerous kind of skin cancer" than basal cell or squamous cell carcinomas. Melanoma is much less common than the other types of skin cancer, but far more deadly, accounting for 75 percent of deaths from skin cancer (according to Wikipedia).  And a diagnosis of melanoma in situ is believed to be a precursor for invasive melanoma.  And I knew it was the bad skin cancer because my husband's nephew's mother-in-law has melanoma.  I mistakenly thought it was the "good" skin cancer, but no, it's the "bad" one that spreads.

The Call

I was practicing the flute in the basement when I heard the phone ring; the caller ID gave the name of our dermatologist.  My son had an appointment with her scheduled for later that afternoon (Wed.), so I assumed they were calling with a last-minute change.  But then it turned out the call was for me.  I was expecting results back from the biopsy, but this was a few days earlier than expected.  And they were calling me--I knew that was likely not a good sign; if there had been nothing, they would have waited for me to call them.  The physician's assistant was very professional--it can't be easy to call someone knowing you have to tell them over the phone that they have cancer.  She paused, asked for my birth date to confirm my identity, then said something like "I have some information I need to give you".  I heard the words melanoma in situ--the bad and the good.  She emphasized the good news of "in situ" (which as I note above I had read about recently so was able to absorb the info a bit better).  She gave me the name of the doctor and surgery center I should call--no immediate need, but surgery should be done soon.  I called the surgery center as soon as I got off the phone; the first available surgery time with the recommended doctor is 2 weeks from today.  The day before our weeklong trip to Va Beach.  The scheduler said I should stay local for a week after the surgery; I mentioned the beach trip and she said as long as I could get back home within 3 hours in case of an emergency it was OK.  It's longer than 3 hours, but I didn't want to postpone the surgery, so I said getting back in 3 hours was no problem (yes it is, there's no way it's a 3-hour trip; more like 5).

I went back to practicing my flute--I hate interrupting my practice because the flute gets cold and my embouchure seems to lose something and it's harder to play.  I felt queasy and could feel my heart beating faster.  But the queasiness could stem from the fact that I was sitting on the basement carpet while I was on the phone, and was inhaling the fumes from cat and dog pee and all the chemicals I've applied to the carpet trying to get rid of the cat and dog pee.  Or maybe it was the words "melanoma in situ".