YOGA FOR CANCER

I am at a yoga therapy and research conference this week. I have forged relationships with amazing yoga therapists who specialize in working with cancer patients. I know the masters who train the yoga therapists that work exclusively with cancer.  These are therapists who work in the oncology ward at Memorial Sloan Kettering, and who conduct the research funded by the National Cancer Institute. I have seen the data on the incredible effects of yogic tools during every stage of the process.  These tools include deep breathing practices, progressive relaxation, meditation, restorative poses. But there is something more to the process of yoga. There is something about taking that time to care for and honor your body, even when it is struggling, even when it is full of pain, even when it is letting you down. There is something about sending the energy of your breath to the places in your body that are being depleted by treatment. There is something about doing a twist to massage your liver, which is working double time to filter the toxins of chemotherapy.  But there are also guiding principles in yoga. Coming to terms with ahimsa (non-harming) and what it means in the context of a cancer battle.  Honoring satya (truthfulness) about what is really happening in your life, your body, your mind, your heart, your family. And perhaps most challenging is aparigraha  (non-grasping), letting go of what is no longer possible, or is not possible right now… admitting where you are, what you can do, and when it is time to back off from expectations placed on you by self and others. I want to bring all of this to my mother, but I don’t know how. I want to hold her hand and let the yogic teachings move through me like in a science fiction movie. Or I want her to discover it somehow, completely on her own, as though she never knew that this work has been my life for many years.  But that desire means that I am not practicing yoga myself. My work is to let my yoga be a part of my own healing, my own coping, my own growth as someone touched indirectly by cancer.  So perhaps I actually need Yoga for Cancer for me.

HEALTHY PERSPECTIVES

I have always disliked the idea of “battling” cancer, instead of a more positive image that the body is working through a healing process.  But in clinical trials, visual imagery of battle is actually effective in tumor shrinkage. I don’t think we can universally say that anything the immune system does is protective.  In my work with RA patients, their immune system has decided to attack the connective joint tissue and ultimately their major organs.  Their chance of a full life is dependent on long-term use of immune-suppressing medications.  I agree that genetics are merely a switch, and our lifestyle/environment/behavior flips that switch.  It might be stress, it might be pollutants.  Unfortunately, many times we do not have control over the inciting incident.  I can’t tell my RA patients to undo the lyme disease infection that turned on their disease. 

The patients who have the greatest success in living a full life are the ones who ultimately see their disease as a gift.  Those patients talk about working WITH their RA, instead of fighting against it. This is an outrage of an idea for some, but I have a few patients who recognize the way RA changed their perspective, their priorities, and their self-care.  If someone with cancer can reach a point where he/she is thankful for the disease, I would be on that person living far longer than predicted.  But that is something that must be discovered, it cannot be taught.  And frankly, I would hope I’d be that kind of patient, but I don’t know if I would be.

The importance of faith in the process cannot be underestimated.  Whatever the treatment plan is, the patient and his/her support system have to be fully in support of it.  You have to make a choice, and then be “all in.”  It is not helpful to second guess the treatment once it is underway, because the treatment’s success is somewhat impacted by the attitude of the patient and his/her team.  You should not tell a woman who had a c-section that it could have been avoided for the benefit of her child. You can only tell her what a beautiful baby she has, and what a gift that life is.  You cannot tell someone who underwent a double mastectomy that genetics are only a fraction of cancer risk.  You can only tell her that you support what she felt she had to do for her peace of mind and her family.  

There are a million things that a person with cancer can be told about how to increase her chances of full remission.  She has to filter all of that and choose, because it isn’t possible to do it all.  I imagine that it would be overwhelming to be the recipient of everyone else’s great ideas, no matter how great they actually are, and especially when many of them conflict.  I am finding that my role in my mother’s recovery is not at all similar to how I would coach a client or a student in her situation.  She does not want my relaxation tapes and my protein shakes.  She wants my love, and the healing power of her grandchildren.  There are endless sources of information and ideas, but only her dearest family can give her unending support, unconditional encouragement, and truly healing love.