Long before my long bones lit up a PET scan and changed the direction of my cancer journey, I was all too happy to have my feet ‘lit up’ by an X-ray machine installed in the Belk’s department store downtown in the nineteen fifties.
I would step up onto the wooden platform of the machine wearing a pair of potential Easter Sunday shoes hoping to convince others of what I already knew: the shoes my mother picked out really hurt my feet.
To help sell mother’s selected Thom McAn shoes to me, the store manager and the shoe department manager would take off their glasses and peer into their own view ports soaking up mega roentgens of radiation trying to convince me these shoes were perfect for Easter services. Can we box them for you? they would ask.
But, for whatever it was worth, the store employees also helped me to see my own metatarsals and soft tissue shoehorned into a very tight spot.
Last week, the folks at the nuclear medicine unit were able to see more of my bones than even I had seen at Belk’s Department store and there was no reason to believe a pair of mother-approved shoes would change that outcome.
Another twist in the road of this journey I’ve been on but I am ready to accept my new pair of Thom McAn Easter shoes just to make this reality go away.
©2019, JP New Media, All Rights Reserved