Sex and drugs and rock and roll

Well, one out of three aint bad.

Lots of drugs today. Let's start with the Vicodin I'm taking, which is making me feel so wonderously good that I was inspired to write this post despite feeling so shitty just a few hours ago. Then let's go back in time to the Infusion Room at Columbia, where a mere 15-minute once-yearly drip of Zometa left me feeling vaguely nauseated, more than a little bit loguey and aguey and absolutely, downright grumpy. The side effects of a Zometa drip (it's my third or fourth, depending on whether you count the one that I got in 2002 that might or might not have been a placebo, since I used to take this drug on a clinical trial studying the bone-building and bone-met-inhibiting effects of Zometa on pre-menopausal women on chemotherapy for breast cancer) are said to last approximately 24 hours. However, in 2003, they lasted for approximately 30 days. On the other hand, at the time, I was still taking the drug, Herceptin, whose ick-inducing side-effects may have exacerbated the side effects of the Zometa or otherwise made them harder to tolerate. Dr. H, my trusty oncologist of nearly five years (!!!!) told me to take some Extra Strength Tylenol to combat the side effects. I asked if Vicodin would be an appropriate source of said Extra Strength Tylenol. She laughed. I took that as a yes.

Now rewind to 11 a.m., the time at which I left Shala X...hobbling along like the Hunchback of the East Village. I had thought that my injury from a week ago was all better.

I had thought wrong.

When Sir put my hands together, I felt felt the fingers of one hand graze the palm of the other, providing me with one moment of relief and satisfaction before .... BAM .... I envisioned my Erector Spinae as two steel guitar strings being plucked by a three-year old having a temper tantrum. By which I mean, ouch.

The bright side: the good solid grab was there for the taking.

Now, if only my lower back were not so dead set against Supta Kurmasana happening. I hereby resolve not to even ATTEMPT Supta Kurmasana until I have completely forgotten that I injured myself in the first place. That's how I will know I am all better. Until then, I am fully capable of Kurmasana, and I will just enjoy being in it, and then go straight to Garba P. I wish Sir would let me do Baddha Konasana. When I was sitting in the exam room today, waiting for Dr. H to come in, I did a nice, deep Baddha K, and it felt sooooooooo good to stretch my back that way. Ah well. My new friend and fellow Ashtanga Intensive Participant, G, and I have come to the conclusion that my slow progress is more a function of yamas than asanas...as in there is a good argument that I have a tendency to be a stealer of poses, which tendency is a failure to observe the yamas of Aparigraha and Asteya. More than a tendency. A quick mental trip down yoga practice memory lane reminds me that I seem to have no shame when it comes to taking poses I haven't been given. I could use the lessons, believe me. So, whether or not Sir intends the pace of my progress as a form of boundary-setting/philosophical lesson in non-stealing/non-coveting, well, I think it's the best thing for me.

But I digress. I was talking about all the drugs I took today. So, yeah, there was Advil before the Zometa before the Vicodin. And there was Lorazepam before the Advil before the Zometa before the Vicodin, because I was pretty wound up this morning having to face my bi-annual oncologist visit. I nearly blew it off, to be honest. But then I still would have had to go eventually, so after a few minutes of internal debate, I just went. Kind of like the way I handle practice nowadays. I just go. The debate is just a waste of time. Sometimes I engage myself in it. But most of the time, I just tell myself to shut up.

And that's all she wrote.

YC