The Kindness of Others
The first time it happened was when leaving a football (soccer) match. I was between my second and third chemo treatments.
We had to park at a fair distance and I just didn’t have the energy to make the walk. I sat on the curb while my wife went to fetch the car. A young guy, I’d guess early 30’s, saw me and offered to help me up. I thanked him and told him I’d be okay. I was slightly annoyed, I must admit. When my wife arrived, I pulled myself up using a post next to me.
I’d lost 85 pounds during cancer surgeries and chemo. I barely recognized myself in the bathroom mirror. There was skin hanging everywhere. My face was thin. My legs were twigs.
I was sixty-eight at diagnosis, sixty-nine at remission, and now I’m seventy. I can’t remember the last time I opened a door for myself. Typically, someone sees me approaching and opens the door for me while I am dozens of paces away, even though I feel pretty good. I’ve gained about ten pounds since remission, but that’s it.
Before all the cancer stuff, I was a two-hundred-thirty-pound fellow. Some people have told me I was intimidating. But just like that, I was a spindly old man. I’ve continued to age apace. The hair I lost in chemo didn’t completely return. The skin is still hanging off me. I’m certainly weaker. I shuffle. I have to pull myself up stairs. My blood is wacky. I spend…
