Sneaky ****

KimR5413

Sometime early the next year…

It snuck up on me. I didn’t know it was coming. I’m not sure that THEY told me it would. The first time, I thought it was just me. 

I wore something that I had to ask about wearing. That was my first mistake. It was a little shift dress that would have been considered long in the ’60s. Now, since I am closer to 60 than 20, I was pushing it a bit. Since I’m fairly petite and look younger than my age, I thought maybe I could get away with it. My oldest niece told me that I’d be fine if I didn’t raise my arms, and said the shoes were a match to the outfit. Ok, I thought. I should be good. I have no real need to raise my arms. As I left the office on the long trek to the restroom, it happened. I took two steps out the door and my shoe slipped halfway off. This left me stepping on half of it and…GOING DOWN. I knew it was coming but could do nothing about it. The only thing I knew was that I needed to keep my knees off the carpet. The carpet tiles had just been updated to a nice new texture (read rough as hell). I managed to keep one knee off the ground, but in my downward dog pose, ended up skinning the other. All this in front of the glass door to our office. All I could think was, Please don’t look up! Please don’t look up! Our receptionist was directly behind me at this point. If she was busy, then she didn’t have to see my 48-year-old bum in the air. Nearly to the point of getting back up, I heard the door open. In her sweetest voice she said, “Are you ok?”

Crap! She had seen the wreckage! 

“Yes,” I replied. “I’m fine, just don’t call HR on what you were just subjected to seeing. So sorry!” Now not only was I stinging from the rug burn, but I also had to wash out her eyes with bleach. Some things you just can’t unsee, and this was one of them.

The next time I was shoe shopping, as I often am, I tried on several pair and was hell-bent on hitting a couple of end-of-summer sales. I found some deck shoes, or boat shoes. You know, the “new” kind that were also popular in the ’80s when I was a teen. I also found a couple pairs of sandals. They were what I had been looking for, with a strap in the back to keep me from walking out of them (again). I made my purchases and, with pride in my ability to find a deal, went home. I wore the new deck shoes to work the next day. They were a little tight in spots, but nothing that I couldn’t handle for a day. The next day was the sandals, same description. I wore both of them off and on for the next few weeks. I did not think much of it, but that break-in period was short. 

Then, one day, I was going out to the car and wearing my dress clogs. What are dress clogs, you ask? Well, they are not the kind you see on chefs. They have a heel and a little bit of a platform. Mine are in distressed leather with zippers on either side. I was headed out to the car for work and twisted my ankle. My left ankle, to be exact. I righted myself before hitting the gravel and was on my way again. I took two steps and it happened again. Wow, I thought…what sort of klutz do I have going on today?

Well, by the third time and grabbing the car door on the way down, I was dropping F-bombs. I had no idea what my problem was. I hadn’t been drinking and I could not walk in my shoes. It was the strangest thing. By now, my ankle was sore and my back was starting to tweak a bit from the jerky manner in which I was making my way to the car. Picture every meme or reel you’ve seen with someone trying not to fall on the ice in their driveway. 

I didn’t think too much of it, but decided to tell the doctor. We overshared with her. I figured I didn’t know what this chemo and radiation thing was all about, so I might as well. She would know better than me if something was from chemo. Sure enough, it was! This is when I learned the word “neuropathy.” That sneaky ****! She said I might have more issues than I had already been experiencing, including tingling hands, numb toes, and balance problems. For how long, you ask? Me too! The answer was 12 to 18 months. WTF! This is something that should have been mentioned! Maybe they didn’t want me to dwell on it or get depressed. 

This was another devastating blow. Once you reach the finish line you do not want to be told that there is another marathon to run. You’re high-fiving your friends and telling your family that you’re okay. You want to let your husband LIVE again like a normal person. YOU want to live again like a normal person. 

Later, as I looked back, I could then see that the shoes…did not fit. I just didn’t know because I couldn’t really feel my feet and toes.

Lesson: When you’ve been gut-punched and blind-sided by the sequel no one warned you about, walk tenderly, laugh loudly, and give yourself grace when healing trips you up.