As I type this, I’m gearing myself up to put on my roller skates and go to Roller Derby practice with the B team for the first time.
This is a pretty huge thing for me. I played Roller Derby for 7 years before the pandemic. Then, obviously, there was no Roller Derby for about 2 years. By the time everyone was going back to practice, I was having Cancer Treatment and had a crushed vertebrae, so no Roller Derby for me.
As I recovered, my orthopaedic surgeon said I could run on a treadmill because it’s more cushioned. But I hate treadmills, so in June 2022, I tentatively started Couch to 5k. It was terrifying, but I did it anyway, and two years later, touch wood, it’s been okay.
My Haematologist told me that I was in as good a position with my bones as I could be, as I was on Zometa1 and had no evidence of active disease, but that Myeloma could cause microscopic damage that increases fracture risk and that high impact sports weren’t recommended. In September last year, I very cautiously put my roller skates back on. I’ve been pootling around and helping coach the rookies, but I’m getting frustrated; I feel I can do more, I WANT to do more. So I asked if I could get signed off to join in B team training. I don’t know how it will go. Everything is baby steps, and sometimes 2 baby steps forwards followed by 3 gigantic leaps backwards. But what I do know is that I am a grown-up, and I can make my own decisions.
Last week, I posted something similar on Instagram and Moth.Dance left a comment.
Dignity of risk ✊
Dignity of risk is a phrase often heard in elderly or disability care. It means you have the right to make your own choices, even if those choices involve risk. Let's face it: Roller Derby and Running, in my example, were never risk-free anyway, and living with cancer doesn’t mean I’ve given up the right to choose to take risks.
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