"Slip, slide, wrap, spin, swing, emote and writhe like a vixen."
That's how Debbi began her recent story about pole dancing for Senior Life Magazine.
Unplug, stroll, pull, push, spin, and untangle cords like a cancer vixen. Although my version of "pole dancing" may not be as sensuous as Debbie's, I'm determined to make the most of the 24-7 dance partner tethered to my arm. I'm no longer afraid that I'll pull out my PICC line or die some ironic death, like getting strangled by my own IV cords.
Let the pole dancing begin!
I start out the morning with a pole stroll down the tiled halls. I push my partner through a series of double doors and then pull him over the carpet into the light-filled lobby. We serpentine through a series of columns - left, right, left, right - with my hospital gown billowing. Like those hoofers on "Dancing with the Stars," we make it look easy.
I stop to twist and turn and untangle the electrical cord that's become wrapped up in my IV cords. We make one more spin around the lobby before heading back to the room. We smile and nod as we pass the staff, silently wondering if they noticed our routine.
Back in the room, I smooth the cords and recharge my partner. He'll go back to silently dispensing chemo and meds until our next mid-day pole dancing episode.
