New Shoes

I'm reluctant to type these words.  I'm a Jewish trauma survivor, which means my afraid-to-say-good-things superstition game is STRONG.

here goes:
I feel better today than I have since before my cancer surgery two and half months ago.
Better physically.
Better energy-wise.
Better emotionally.

Better mentally.

Today I remembered how I felt as me-me before surgery, before chemo, before Stage IV diagnosis.
I had cancer, but I didn't know it yet.

I expect this to change. AND I'm so deeply appreciating it, in a way I don't think I could have before.

My gradual-turned-rapid weight loss started last summer. And one feature of adrenal tumors is that weight loss is disproportionate in the limbs/face.
Last summer, my rings and shoes started to feel looser. (I thought I was imagining it.)
But nope-my rings fit on different fingers now. many of my shoes are now too big.

I've been on the search for a new pair of shoes, and today I was at a shoe store and the person measured my foot. I'm not sure I've had that done since I was a kid!
And indeed, my shoe size has gone down.  She asked why.
I said: I had a significant weight loss.
Her: oh, what was that from?
Me: Cancer.
That was the first time I said it to a stranger.  It felt a little weird, and for a second my caretaking instinct kicked in-- I worried that I needed to take care of her, to soften the blow, to smooth it over. To convince her I'm okay.
Yeah, fvck that.
First of all, and most importantly: I am not here to care for anyone else, especially strangers.
And second of all, I'm not okay! (I am, and am not at the same time).

Anyway, she didn't react negatively. She responded with "Sorry to hear that," and didn't seem shaken by it. 

It was a banner day: I felt like my old self, finally found a new pair of shoes, told a stranger I have cancer.

They didn't have my size, but I ordered the shoe I wanted.

I'm looking forward to having it in the right size.