In 2013, I wrote the first outline of my book, an outline that now looks nothing like the finished product – but I keep it for sentimental reasons. When I sketched that outline, it was the twentieth anniversary of the death of my grandmother, Katherine P. Souza, and it was twenty years too late for me to help her and my family.

In 1993, I was a college student on my way to earning a bachelor’s degree in mechanical engineering. A dedicated student, I would often study at the library until they closed and kicked me out. My efforts were rewarded with good grades – until one winter quarter. That was when my grandmother, a pillar of my childhood, died. At the time, I was not educated about cancer and never thought to ask what type of cancer she had, or if there were any complementary therapies she could do to ease her side effects. All I could think to do was spend as much time with her as possible. Looking back, I can point to areas where we (her family) could have dealt with her diagnosis, treatment, and end-of-life needs better, because now I understand that cancer has a bio-psycho-social impact. Unfortunately, back then, none of us were aware just how much of an impact it had. When her medical team had done all they could for her and hospice stepped in, I often visited her at her home. Loving family members always surrounded her. Unfortunately, these same family members didn’t know how to express their grief, and the stress of her situation would occasionally spark loud arguments between them. Needless to say, her dying process was anything but peaceful. When she died, she waited until no one was in the room. It was a day I had decided to stay at the library because I was failing my economics class. Over the past twenty-six years since she died, I’ve wondered a few things:

Did she wait until she finally had a moment of peace before she accepted her death?

Could we have done any better for her?

When people ask me why I felt it was important for me – someone who has never had a cancer diagnosis – to write this book, my answer comes from both the recent past (my decade offering yoga therapy to people in their homes, hospital beds, and yoga studios), and the distant past (my caregiving experience with my grandmother twenty-six years ago).

Cancer causes suffering for both the patient and the caregivers, and the only way I know how to reduce that suffering is through yoga.

After six years of writing, I finished Cancer + Yoga: For People Living With Cancer and Their Yoga Teachers, Healthcare Providersand Caregivers. I wish I had this book back in 1993. The pain my grandmother felt – and we all felt upon her death – would not have changed, but that suffering might have. 

I don’t know if my grandmother would have been open to any of the yoga practices in my book, but I’d like to think that she would. I do know that in the past twenty-six years, since her death, these practices have helped me reduce my own suffering as a caregiver and as a human living in this world.