My Shoes

About two and a half years ago, I bought a pair of shoes for work. I usually maintain three pairs of shoes - a pair of sneakers for weekends, a pair of black dress shoes for whenever I have to dress of up, and these - my go-to work shoes that I used to wear almost every day. In September of 2024, I realized that these shoes were starting to wear down - they were about a year old at that point, and they were starting to fade. However, I decided that I could probably get to Christmas with them, so I waited on replacing them.

Then I got sick. A doctor gave me a letter that said I had six to twelve months to live. My priorities shifted. I had to 'get my affairs in order'. I had debts to resolve. Bank accounts to organize. A will to revise.

I looked at these shoes and decided that they were sufficient. They would see me through to the end.

I no longer needed these shoes for work. I was 'permanently disabled'. I still pulled these shoes out from time to time. I wore them to the doctor's office when he told Mary and me that the many rounds of chemotherapy and immunotherapy had not helped; my tumors continued to grow. He explained that he had 'nothing more he could do', but suggested we consider a 'second opinion'. 

I wore the shoes again when we drove to Pittsburgh. To our surprise, the doctors had a plan. Lutathera; a nuclear treatment designed for pancreatic cancer, but which may also attack my tumors since they shared many characteristics.

Four trips to Pittsburgh. Four treatments. Eight months. Same shoes. Because why get new ones, right?

But, because of God's grace and mercy, the treatments have worked. My small tumors have been destroyed. Larger tumors made smaller. 

I decided I felt healthy enough to substitute teach a few days a week. I looked at the shoes and decided they'd get me through that. They could substitute teach one or two days a week. I was still 'permanently disabled', right?

But my most recent visit was the most optimistic. Out of my team of doctors, my local oncologist was the most positive. He was effusive in his hope for my future. We have options - either more treatments of Lutathera to destroy the tumors further, or other treatments that are likely to prevent further growth and stablize tumors where they are. I will have cancer for the rest of my life. I don't know what that is, but it's no longer 6-12 months. My affairs are in order as much as they need to be. I don't feel permanently disabled.

This morning, I saw a listing for my dream job. If you could write up a perfect role for me, this is it. It would allow me to leverage everything - my education, my passions, my experiences, my hobbies. All of it comes together in this one job. 

I sent in a cover letter and my resume.

I think it's time to buy a new pair of shoes. I'm going to need them.