Tastefully bound in pink and white, with maybe just a hint of gilding. It becomes your obligation to produce the best-selling memoir: Shoemom’s Story. You in fact have wild fantasies about running through the streets smashing pink stickers into chests. You want everyone to be aware of it, of the problem it symbolises, how desperately a solution is needed. The bubble-gum pink that previously set your teeth on edge is now your favourite colour in the whole wide world. I would only note - as a matter of perhaps mere personal interest - that the first thing to go in these situations is cynicism, no matter how carefully cultivated.
So the last thing I want to do is disrespect anyone currently trapped in the nightmare stage, or their loved ones. She is on the whole relaxed and optimistic about it all except – characteristically - when she thinks of the effect on her daughters. The surgery is apparently routine (well, as routine as removing a breast can ever be) and the prognosis is excellent.
It’s in the early stages, I hasten to add just caught in time to avoid becoming a nightmare, actually. …well, that got shot all to hell in a hurry. All I want for 2011 is my mother not to have breast cancer. Which, as you can imagine, made the resolutions really, severely uncomplicated. However this year our previously merry eating, drinking etc were overshadowed by a bit of the old ‘…for tomorrow you may…’, on account of Shoemom having found a lump in her right breast about a month prior, and due for the appointment with the specialist the first Tuesday of the new year. Short version: No panicked shopping, dealing with family angst, or blinky-light-induced insomnia. As explained previously, on a Very Special Entry - we don’t actually celebrate the winter holidays, here Shoe Central.
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