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If you do not like graphic photos of blistered feet, which is in this post, I suggest you stop reading now…

 

The severe issues with neuropathy in my feet have led to horrible blisters.  With numb toes and feet, it’s hard to feel the ground beneath me, which is what I felt last Thursday as I walked from NYU’s hospital on 1st Ave to the cancer center on 3rd Avenue.

 

With hubby by my side, hand in hand, as we strolled those two long avenues, it suddenly became apparent to me that my balance was off and my gait was awkward, like a wobbly fawn taking its first steps.  On the positive side, at least blisters number 2 and number 3, under my right foot, had drained the day before, so I was no longer limping–and yet, I still walked like an elderly woman shuffling slowly down the street.

 

Heading down the avenue, I stepped deliberately, feeling like I might topple over, and tread delicately on shaky legs that felt like the feet had been separated from the ankles.  In my mind, I was sure I swayed a bit and was slightly embarrassed. How could this be, I thought?  Was it me or were people staring at me?  How paradoxical to feel so young in my spirit but so ancient in my body.

 

My husband slowed down and talked to me as if nothing about me or my walk was off.  Even though I called attention to my waddle, he poo-pooed my observation and kept walking and talking with me like I was his young spring-chicken bride.  I love him for that.  Even when I share my impediments he chooses not to live in it with me, not because he has no compassion, but because he loves me and wants me to feel his love despite the obvious physical changes I endure.

 

For some strange reason, my impaired pace made me think of a Happy Days episode where the Fonz and Chachi tried to convince their grandmother that she needed to move into a retirement home.  Grandma Nussbaum’s hearing was poor and her stride was slow but her mental acuity was sharp.  To help the Fonz understand how age was no friend to the body, she made Fonzie put cotton balls in his ears to make it hard for him to hear and rocks in his shoes to affect his steps.  In the end, the Fonz learns a lesson about growing old with grace and no longer believes Grandma Nussbaum needs to move.

 

How crazy is it that I remembered that episode (Season 9, Episode 4)?  I mean, really, I don’t remember any other episodes in such detail.  God strangely deposits things in our memory at certain times to help us endure difficult situations.  As I retell the episode to hubby, I begin to realize that I am like Grandma Nussbaum–recognizing that the limits of my body are not congruent with my mind.  Oh, Fonzie!

 

 

Although the first blister trained last week, and a day later I had two more, which also drained a week later, the night before chemotherapy, my healed foot now looked diseased.  For the record, I’ve always taken pride in how pretty my feet look.  No mas!

 

The photo below is disgusting.  If I had a better camera, you might puke.  I thought long and hard about sharing this–and hubby said I really shouldn’t–but if I’m going to be transparent about the awful side effects of chemo…  And actually, the photo below is when I started to get the first blister.  The foot likes 10x worse now.  That pic would really gross you out–trust me!

 

 

On a lighter note, I am eyebrow and eyelashless now.  I took a photo sans makeup to show to hubby.  He said, “just draw them in.”  So, I made a collage of the photo and use the drawing technique to do as he said and then shared the photo with him.  That’s not what I meant, honey.”  Oh, well.  I laughed.  I also share a photo with makeup, wig, and hat–which is how I prefer to wear my wig now.

 

 

Be blessed.

 

In love and Christ,

Liz