Tuesday, April 26, 2011

You Got Any Glass Slippers for a Princess with a Lame Foot?

I searched the Internet today for nursing shoes, orthopedic shoes, shoes for diabetics and shoes for neuropathy.  Found a few that might work, going to check a uniform store first and try a few of them on, then see if I can find a better price on the Internet.  They are pricey.

I also checked around for swimsuits to put my fake girls in, just in case I feel like going to the pool stacked.

I shoulda been a chiropractor for all the adjusting I am doing right now.  Returning home from the war, learning to live with my battle wounds, and my prostheses too.

The flashbacks of treatment continue, I told NaniGlenda today.  Sometimes they are so vivid, I almost have to hold my breath.

I see myself.  Doing what I had to do.
I see her.  She is somebody different than me.  She is braver.  I don't know how she did what she did.  I don't know how she did it.

I couldn't do it.  No way.

and then I remember, she and me are the same, and it's freaky baby.  It's freaky.

Everybody wants me to be ok.
Everybody is relieved this cancer gig is over.
Everybody is welcoming home Deb.

I am still trying to integrate the three me's.
There is the old me.  The Deb before diagnosis.
There is the Deb who went through Cancer Camp, who wore the purple scarf on a bald head and started this blog.
Then there's the me right now, the Deb who is searching for her "new normal."

Sometimes I miss old Deb, but it's like she's dead.
I look back on all the stuff that Cancer Deb went through, and I'm like, Damn Girl, I'm impressed.
Then there's this me.

Still unfolding.
Wings still wet.
Heart still mending.
Still rowing.

“He went into the hills to pray.” Mark 6:46
What does Jesus do while we are in the storm? You’ll love this. He prays for us . . .
So where does that leave us? While Jesus is praying and we are in the storm, what are we to do? Simple. We do what the disciples did. We row . . .
Much of life is spent rowing . . . Getting out of bed. Fixing lunches . . . More struggle than strut.
Max Lucado

1 comment:

fosteringcare said...

You are oh so wise, my Tink-Cancer Camp Counsellor!! Don't forget to drop those bread crumbs please...I wanna get to where you are!
Hugs...
Jane

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