Last week, just after Day 8 of Chemo#6, my Hodgegirl decided that she was ready to do some kind of activity. I guess she’s been feeling restless and tired of having to just deal with hospitals, treatments and nothing else.
Having tried yoga a couple of years ago and with a class just a few blocks away from our house, she decided this was what she wanted to do. Of course, that meant I was doing it too.
Being the mom that I am, I was extremely worried about her. Yet, my Hodgegirl put me (and others) to shame. On our third session, she hardly took breaks (something that the yoga instructor insisted she did anytime she was feeling tired or out of breath) and even held the poses that required a lot of strength and flexibility. All this despite her blood count dropping again (although she swears that she doesn’t feel anemic this week).
Not surprisingly, my old body is complaining of soreness while Hodgegirl is happily whistling and singing away, practically skipping from one room to the next around the house. I’ve realized that I overestimated the effects of cancer and chemotherapy on my child while underestimating her strength (physically, mentally, and emotionally) to deal with it.
I honestly don’t know how she does it but I am constantly amazed by and grateful for her faith, quiet determination, and strength.
Our yoga instructor concludes every practice by saying “Namaste”, and although I’ve heard it many times before, I only just looked up (i.e. google) what it means:
Namaste is a customary greeting when individuals meet or bid farewell. It is spoken with a slight bow and hands pressed together, palms touching and fingers pointing upwards, thumbs close to the chest. In Hinduism it means “I bow to the divine in you.”
Nama a means ‘bow’, ‘obeisance’, ‘reverential salutation’ or ‘adoration’ and te means ‘to you’. Therefore, Namaste literally means “bowing to you”.