Saturday, January 7, 2012

The Other Shoe

When I got in bed last night, I was tired, depleted, but happy. I realized I was happy. I wasn’t worried or scared, or pissed, this is my life and it’s still a beautiful life. My boys are home and snug in their cozy beds. My big old house is warm and the cats aren’t too pesty. I sense my friends and neighbors outside the walls, spread far and wide, these people that have embraced me so, and crazy as it is in this crazy mess, I’m happy. I’m still really happy that last year, I chose to fly solo, even with the chaos and uncertainty that entails. This is not the new life I expected, planned, but it’s still my life, I built it and I like it.

But then it occurred to me that all this time I was assuming that cancer was the Other Shoe. You know, the other shoe that always drops... that cement filled, head clocker, always lurking around the corner up a flight or two, ready to pounce. The shoe you can’t predict and never see coming. The cement shoe is never as simple as A leading to B, it’s crazy shit, no rhyme or reason, clear out of the blue that you never can see it coming. I’m not being pessimistic or feeling sorry for myself here, it’s just that I’ve been well acquainted with this other shoe for a good long time, I kind of take it in stride. Often times when things are going well I think of it and lately I’d figured I’d just plain used up my quota... that was a soothing thought, clear skies, clear blue skies ahead {and internet dating} that sounds fair, I really think I’ve had my fair share and it’s time for big bad shoe to move on.

But then cancer, mean, nasty, particicularly aggressive, unfriendly, no one noticed till it was god awful big cancer landed on my head {or in my boob} and I figured that was the other shoe and I’ve been dealing with it accordingly, and I’m doing fine {all things considered}, I’ve dealt with the big mean shoe before. But what if cancer is just cancer and the other shoe is still waiting to drop? The other shoe is that my cancer doesn’t respond to chemo, the other shoe is that it recurs quickly, the other shoe is that it spreads or leads to some other dire consequence. That scares me. That slices into my solace and coping and I wonder how I’ll know, when will I know if cancer is just cancer and the other shoe is still waiting to drop?


  1. i say the other shoe is a sparkly red pump!!! a happy sparkly red sequined and happy!
    think good thoughts. <3

  2. there will always be another shoe, but you MUST be on base for a while now. nothing else can get you. all clementines + flannel sheets as far as the eye can see.