When my oncologist here delivered his diagnosis of cancer to me, the first words I said were “I knew something wasn’t right.” But what I thought was, “So that’s why my feet have been hurting so much!” The strange truth is that day one after the first shot of Velcade, my foot pain ceased.
Yet for two years before my first chemo treatment, I’d been reduced to my Saucony’s as everyday attire. My grey suede boots, platform mary janes, clunky leather mules, red low-top Converse and blue jean sneakers I loved so much had laid dormant and covered in dust on the floor of my closet. Their mouths, as I gazed down on them, opened to me in a silent and horrified plea that could not be answered. My shoes would not be comforted, nor would they be comfortable. And I…I had been grandmotherized by their loss. For you cannot look like a hip and happening 39-year-old (always my goal,) when wearing running shoes with kaki pants.
So, after a while, I came to believe that the diagnosis of all my doctors was wrong. I did not have Multiple Myeloma. No, I had cancer of the feet. I hoped this would not mean I would have to get a feet-ectomy. Otherwise, I’d find myself needing no shoes at all. This would be unacceptable, seeing as shoes were my favorite fashion accessory, my hobby and, quite possibly, my life. Yes, I decided, if the doctors suggested that my feet would have to go, I’d tell them that doing so would take away not only my life, but my very…sole.
Yet for two years before my first chemo treatment, I’d been reduced to my Saucony’s as everyday attire. My grey suede boots, platform mary janes, clunky leather mules, red low-top Converse and blue jean sneakers I loved so much had laid dormant and covered in dust on the floor of my closet. Their mouths, as I gazed down on them, opened to me in a silent and horrified plea that could not be answered. My shoes would not be comforted, nor would they be comfortable. And I…I had been grandmotherized by their loss. For you cannot look like a hip and happening 39-year-old (always my goal,) when wearing running shoes with kaki pants.
So, after a while, I came to believe that the diagnosis of all my doctors was wrong. I did not have Multiple Myeloma. No, I had cancer of the feet. I hoped this would not mean I would have to get a feet-ectomy. Otherwise, I’d find myself needing no shoes at all. This would be unacceptable, seeing as shoes were my favorite fashion accessory, my hobby and, quite possibly, my life. Yes, I decided, if the doctors suggested that my feet would have to go, I’d tell them that doing so would take away not only my life, but my very…sole.
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