Balancing Acts (29 page)

N
aomi stood at the bottom of the stairs of her brownstone. The journey to the inside of her apartment seemed impossibly arduous. She sat and rubbed her puffy eyes. She had been crying since 1:42
PM
, when her doctor had told her that it was “probable MS.”
Probable because of the three lesions in your brain and the large one at the base of your cervical spine. Probable because their location is concurrent with early MS. Probable because we can't tell you it's definite until you have a second episode.

“And when will that happen?” she had asked. “This elusive second episode?”

“We have no idea.”

“NO IDEA?”

“It could be three weeks; it could be five years; it could very well never happen at all. We just don't know.”

Even with all of the MS research she had done on her own, Naomi was still stunned by the unjust unpredictability of this crazy disease.
You're a planner? Too bad. You want a real answer? Too bad.
Your real answer is delivered only via an episode that renders you immobile for—hopefully, if you're lucky—a few days or weeks, or, like her mother's friend Elizabeth, takes your sight in one eye for a month. You may get your mobility or your eyesight back, but there is no assurance of that. Nobody knows.

“The good news is, if you do have it, it's early. And the medicine available today can really alter its course,” explained her doctor. Naomi could barely see his face through her tears.

“What kind of medicine?”

“There are a few kinds.
Blah blah blah blah.
Needles. Every day
blah blah blah
or once a week
blah blah blah
. There are side effects but they're manageable.”
How is a disease manageable if you have to stick yourself with a needle every day? That's manageable? What's unmanageable? Imminent death? That's the quantifier?

Before the appointment was over, Naomi had scheduled a spinal tap for the following week. This was another way to
maybe
determine MS before another episode walloped her (or didn't). Again, here, the vagueness was infuriating. Around eighty percent of people who had MS had a positive tap.
But wait, don't get too excited if yours is negative!
Twenty percent of MS patients have a negative tap. What was the point really?

I guess, in a perverted way, I hope I get a positive tap. At least then I would know, or sort of know, and the idea of medication wouldn't seem so ludicrous. Okay doctor, whatever you say. Oh, that's $6,000 a year for meds? With no formal diagnosis? Sure, here's my check.
Naomi wondered if she was so antimedicine because living in denial of the MS was a hell of a lot more pleasant than facing it every day with a big fat shot in the ass.

Naomi heard the window being raised upstairs. She'd been spotted.

“Mom, whatcha doin'?” called Noah from above. He lifted the screen and stuck his little head out. Naomi could hear Gene reprimanding him. She composed herself as best she could. She had to tell her little man today. “Baby, get your body back in that window!” she yelled. “Right now!” She heard the screen slam shut.

“Sorry, Naomi!” yelled Gene.

Turning to make her way in, she heard galloping down the stairs inside and smiled. Nothing was better than Noah's excitement to see her every time she walked through the door.

“Mooooooooom!” he yelled, scrambling down the stairs to hug her. He smelled like peanut butter and orange juice.

“Hi, baby,” said Naomi, nuzzling his neck. “Careful of your cast!”

“How was the doctor?”

“Hey, Naomi,” greeted Gene, coming down the stairs after him in his jacket. “You okay?”

No.
“Oh yeah, fine. Listen, thanks for picking Noah up today.”

“No problem. Anytime.” He locked eyes with Naomi, not buying her story. Anyone could see that she had been crying. “You give me a call if you want to.” She supposed she had to tell him, but not anytime soon.

“I will, Gene. Thanks.”

“Bye, Noah. See you Sunday.”

“Bye, Dad!” They hugged and Gene waved once more before walking away. “What happened at the doctor, Mom?” Noah asked again.

“Well. . .some stuff is going on with me.” Although she was trying with every ounce of her strength not to cry, a tear slid down her cheek.

“Mom, what's wrong?” He put his warm hand on hers.

She took a deep breath. “I might be sick. The kind of sick that doesn't go away, like a cold. You always have it, but some times are much worse than others.”

“Oh.” Noah's brown eyes swam with concern. “Like Morgan's mom? She has cancer.”

“Sort of like that. But this sickness isn't life-threatening. It's more like a huge inconvenience. And sometimes I might not be able to walk or see or talk as well. It's a disease that affects the nervous system.”

“Oh, so your spinal cord?”
Suddenly my kid is Jonas Salk?

“Yes, exactly. It's called multiple sclerosis. And, excuse me, how'd you get so smart?”

“Mom, I'm not a babyyyyyy.”

She pulled him close, careful not to jiggle his cast. “Anyway, we're not sure if I have it yet. I have to get a spinal tap next week.”

“That doesn't sound fun.”

“It won't be.”

“Will it hurt?”

“Not so bad, I don't think.”

They sat in silence for a few minutes, Noah's hand still clasping hers. The sun filtered through the budding leaves on the trees and above them two birds sang to each other. Mr. Smithers walked his fourteen-year-old lab, Mikey, past them.

“Hey, Noah,” he grumbled. “Gonna be baseball season soon, huh?”

“Yeah,” answered Noah noncommittally. Mr. Smithers continued on his way, unphased by Noah's lack of enthusiasm.

“So,” said Naomi.

“So,” repeated Noah. “I don't think you're sick, Mom. You don't look sick.”

“I know, and we're not sure yet if I really am. But the fact is that I might be. I wasn't going to tell you until I knew for sure, but I thought I should go ahead and let you know. You're a big boy.”

“Yes, I am,” answered Noah solemnly. “I love you.”

“I love you, too, Noah.”

He hugged her fiercely with his free arm, surprising her with his strength.

M
ornin', sunshine!” cooed Julian as he strolled into the studio. Charlie looked up from her mat. She had come in early to do some stretching before class. She couldn't believe that this was it. How could six weeks have passed so quickly, yet so much have changed? It boggled her mind.

“Hey, hot stuff,” she replied. “How are you on this beautiful Saturday?”

“Me and my boys are excellent.” As if on cue, George and Michael came running in. George skittered directly over to Charlie and began licking her leg with sloppy gulps.

“Someone is in a good mood!” Charlie remarked, scratching him lovingly behind his ears. Michael approached from her other side, wanting to get in on the action.

“I know! George and Michael are in rare form today. I think it's spring. They might not technically have their balls anymore, but their instincts are spot-on.”

Charlie laughed. “Julian, can you believe that this is my last class with Bess, Naomi, and Sabine?”

“I really can't. It seems like just yesterday I was bitching you out for signing up such a small class.”

“Doesn't it? It's nuts.”

“I'm psyched to see the website,” said Julian.

“Helloooo,” called Felicity, entering the studio. “I brought bagels! The devil's carbohydrate.” She put down her bags. “Today is the day! I can't wait to get my hands on that website.”

“I know, we're excited, too,” Charlie replied. “As soon as class is over, we'll have a look.”

“A look at what?” asked Sabine, entering next. She put down her bag of champagne and orange juice and beamed at them. Her date with Zach had gone incredibly well. She was still coasting on the high.

“The website,” answered Charlie. “Are you happy with the way your copy turned out?”

“I really am. It's tight.”

“Nice,” said Julian. “Okay, I'll let you ladies get to it. See you after class.” He swatted Sabine playfully on her behind as he and his canine entourage left the room.

Naomi and Bess arrived next—Naomi with her laptop and pastries in tow, and Bess with a bag of newspapers and fruit.

“What's with the newspapers?” asked Sabine.

“All will be revealed after class,” answered Bess, with what she hoped was a coy grin and not one of acute anxiety. She was a nervous wreck. What if they all ganged up on her and clobbered her to death with yoga blocks?

“Ooh, mysterious,” joked Naomi.

After disrobing, they all took their respective places on their mats, the gravity of this last class weighing on all of them.

“I can't believe this is it,” said Charlie. She looked at all of them with pride. “We have all come so far here. Yoga and life-wise.”

“Yogapy,” said Sabine.

“Exactly,” agreed Charlie. “You know, it's interesting. I always thought of yoga as the ultimate balancing act, but never before have I seen it transcend boundaries in such a way. All of you,” she paused, “no, all of
us
have really taken the practice outside the classroom. Our work here has inspired balance and movement in other very important areas of my life, and I want to thank you for that inspiration.”

“Me too,” said Bess. “I've learned so much from all of you.”

Sabine and Naomi nodded. “Me too,” they said simultaneously.

“So with that said, let's begin our last class together,” said Charlie. “I know I haven't opened class with
Om
before, but I really feel it's appropriate now, in this moment. In essence,
Om
is a sound that represents the union of mind, body, and spirit. It truly is what yoga is all about, and also what our journey here and outside the studio has been about these past six weeks. If you would, please join me.”

“Ooooouuuuummmmm,” chanted Charlie. The ladies followed suit.

Bess thought about just how much her attitude toward yoga had changed since class had begun. Six weeks ago, she would have rolled her eyes and refused to participate. She could see now just how self-conscious she had been.

As they flowed through class, it was all Sabine could do not to burst into tears of happiness. Yoga no longer intimidated her. A lot of things no longer intimidated her. She was writing again, and she was opening up in a way that she had never been able to do before. She had so much to be grateful for. It truly was astonishing how her entire perception had changed.

In cobra, Naomi felt her chest muscles expand. She thought about her brain and those small, seemingly innocent white circles that her doctor had shown her on her MRI. What was happening in there? Were her lesions multiplying right now, as she moved into downward facing dog? How could she feel so good if that was the case? If her nerve signals weren't firing correctly, then how come she was able to enjoy yoga? It was one thing to be aware of your body through exercise, but another entirely to be hypersensitive for all of the wrong reasons.
It's going to be so hard to find the balance between body consciousness and my well-being now.
She segued into warrior I and faced the front of the room with determined confidence.
But I will try. Every day I will try my best. And that's all I can do.

At the close of class, Charlie made a suggestion. “I was hoping you guys would be into trying handstands today,” she explained. The women cringed. Was she nuts?

“I don't expect you to get up there, but I think if you try it, you might surprise yourselves.”

Bess, Naomi, and Sabine looked at each other for affirmation. “We'll try it,” said Naomi, speaking for all of them.

“Good,” said Charlie. “Take your mats over to the wall. Now, I'm going to demonstrate for you. Make like you're going into a handstand, one leg in front of the other, like so.” She got into the position. “Then, just ease your weight onto your hands and kick up. One leg at a time.” She showed them how, rocking back and forth a few times before her long legs went up, perfectly vertical, and then rested against the wall. She released the position. “Have a go,” she said.

Sabine felt kind of like a fool, but she went for it anyway. Each time she went down on her hands, she had trouble remembering what to do with her legs. She would come right back down, her feet landing with a resounding thud.

Bess had the same issue, but found the whole thing comical.
Six weeks ago I would have been cursing Charlie's firstborn for making me do this,
she thought to herself. Now she just found her lack of balance endearing. She would get it eventually. What was the rush?

Naomi rocked back and forth a few times, feeling her legs go higher with each attempt. On her fourth try, she went up, the blood rushing to her head. It felt good. She closed her eyes and imagined those little white bad guys becoming dissolved by a rush of healthy red blood. Biologically, it made no sense, but the visual soothed her. As her feet rested against the wall for support, she heard clapping. She opened her eyes to find upside down versions of Charlie, Bess, and Naomi, smiling and laughing.

“Awesome, Naomi!” said Charlie.

“You are a goddess!” echoed Sabine.

“I hate you!” shrieked Bess.

Laughing, Naomi lowered her legs. She turned over. “I can't believe I did that!” she exclaimed. “I feel like a rock star!” She couldn't wait to tell Noah.

“You are a rock star,” said Charlie.

Charlie returned to the front of the room and walked the women through their cooldowns. It was difficult for all of them to relax however, knowing the party was moments away.

As they sat up to face Charlie, she smiled at them. “Well, no need to close with some sentimental statement,” she explained. “We can get mushy over bagels.”

“And mimosas,” said Sabine.

“And mimosas,” echoed Charlie. “Namaste, beautiful ladies.” She bowed her head.

“Namaste,” they replied, relishing the importance of what was technically their last yoga good-bye.

“Party time!” yelled Sabine.

The women laughed and jumped up from their mats, scrambling to get their supplies. They left the studio to find Felicity and Julian hovering over a setup of bagels, Danish, fruit, and mimosa supplies.

“We figured we'd help out,” said Julian. “Also, I was starving! I can't be surrounded by this many carbs and keep it together!”

“Ooh, this looks delicious!” said Charlie.

“Wait!” yelled Bess, a little bit too loudly. She had to show them the article immediately or her head would explode.

“Whoa, what's up, honey?” asked Felicity. “You okay?”

Bess took a deep breath. “I am. But I have something to share with you all.” She retrieved her bag of papers. “Just let me explain first.” She surveyed their faces before continuing. “I wrote an article for the
New York Times
,” she explained.

“Bess!” interrupted Sabine. “Wow, I—”

“No, wait. Please,” said Bess. “The article is about this class.” She watched their faces clench in response. “But it's really a beautiful article, if I may say so. It's about, well, it's about women and their struggle to balance everything in their lives.” She looked at Julian. “Sorry, Julian.”

“No problem,” he replied.

“I used this class as an example. Really I used all of you as an example,” said Bess.

“Did you use our real names?” asked Naomi, clearly concerned.

“I did. But not your last names. And Charlie, I definitely mention the studio, but I thought you might welcome that publicity.”

“I dunno, Bess,” said Sabine. “It's sort of messed up that you used us without our permission.”

“I know, I know,” answered Bess. “But you should know that my original intention for the article was not as pure. I came into this class as this bitter, angry journalist who wanted to blame everyone else for my lack of success. I thought I was going to write about the lameness of the modern urban woman. The lack of follow-through on their dreams. . .the reluctance to take any risks. . .the focus on others instead of themselves as a bad thing.”

“Wow, sounds like a nice article,” said Felicity, her voice heavy with sarcasm.

“But that's the thing!” said Bess. “That's not the article that I ended up writing at all. As I got to know each one of you better and became more comfortable in my practice, my whole outlook changed. My previous idea was rooted in so much negativity and I was projecting my worries about my own life unfairly onto all of you. Class made me realize that. You guys made me realize that. So the article changed. I really think you'll like it.”

“What section is it in?” asked Naomi.

“City,” answered Bess. “It's very short, really. No offense to the Metro section, but I doubt many people will read it.”

“True,” said Julian. “I'm a Styles Section man myself.”

“You don't say,” said Charlie. She faced Bess. “Well, I have to say that I'm not entirely sold on the idea, and something about the fact that you went behind our backs to do this doesn't sit well with me. This is my business, you know? Julian, Felicity, and I have poured our hearts and souls into this place, and to have it be the focus of an article without our permission seems grossly unethical on your part.”

“Not to mention your intentions in the beginning, Bess,” said Julian. “Who were you to consider yourself more evolved than any of these women? To be so patronizing and ugly, it's pretty unforgivable.”

“But that's just it,” explained Bess. “I was an asshole coming into this, no question. But through the friendships I've made here and the way that yoga makes me feel—open, less aggressive, more aware—I've changed. The article reflects all of that, I promise you.”

“You don't even want to know what I will do to you if this article pisses me off,” said Felicity. “Seriously.”

“Bess, if you mentioned my MS, I will never forgive you,” said Naomi. “For you to take that information as your own, without my permission—”

“No, no, of course I didn't, Naomi. There is no mention of that or anything too personal in the article. I tried to keep you all as anonymous as possible.”

“Other than the fact that you used our real names, of course,” snapped Sabine. “I might not love my job, but I certainly need it. You're not going to get me fired, are you?” Her boss was notorious for reading the paper cover to cover every day. How many Sabines in book publishing could there be?

“I swear, I won't. Please, will you all just read the article so you can answer these questions yourselves?”

“At this point, I am damn curious,” admitted Charlie.

“Me too,” said Sabine.

“Okay, have a look,” said Bess. She passed out the paper to all of them and walked into the studio to pace.
Please, please, let them like it,
she said to herself.

The minutes passed like hours. Finally, Charlie poked her head in. “Hey Bess,” she said.

Bess looked up nervously. “Yeah?”

“It's fantastic!” said Charlie, with tears in her eyes. “I am so touched!”

“Me too!” yelled Sabine, rushing in to give her a hug. Naomi and Charlie followed, and soon they were all entwined in a gigantic, four-way embrace.

Tears streamed down Bess's face. She was overwhelmed with relief and happiness. Never had something been so important to her before. The respect of these women meant the world to her.

“Bess, it is so well done,” said Naomi. “Thanks for that.”

“Do you really think we're that special?” asked Sabine coyly.

“I do,” answered Bess. “I really do. I mean, we're all just getting by, you know? We're doing the best we can, every day.”

“Bess, this is the best publicity ever!” shrieked Julian. “Business is really going to pick up! Boy, did you save your own ass.”

“Yeah, this all could have gone horribly wrong, but you did Prana right,” said Felicity, embracing her next. “I think it's really going to make a difference in our business.”