I Can See My Reflection. . .

in the Target entrance door. And it isn’t pretty. How did I get so skinny? And what business does a 44 year old woman have needing a cane to get anywhere these days?

It took most of my denial and all of courage not to look her in the eye. Cool “Support Artists t-shirt”. Trendy Jeans. Exhausted Face. Skinny arms. Old skin. And the cane? I couldn’t even face her.

My Dad never had a cane. Too “proud” even for a walker. So he used me to help him to the bathroom. My mother’s presentation of cancer of the pancreas was more challenging – took more of her daily life away from the onset. She had a walker, with a built in seat. But they were post 60.

I have a 4 year old. I looked at this image in the entry door, and I knew it was me, but I don’t want it to me. I don’t know what is going on with my leg. Is it a sciatic issue? It is deep in my glute muscle and it is awful. It isn’t all the time, but it is sharp and paralyzing. It is intense and painful. And it never, even for a minute, lets me forget that I have a dangerous disease.

I want to get well so I don’t need to reach for the cane. I intend to get well.


2 responses to “I Can See My Reflection. . .

  1. Hey Jeanne, very well written. Sad but well written. Sorry you aren’t feeling so good right now. How are the boys?


  2. DO get well. πŸ™‚ πŸ™‚

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