A community of street vendors lines the sidewalk around the corner from where I live. As I run the gauntlet of tourists and fellow New Yorkers, my yellow lab-pit mix lunges at an unsuspecting flock of pigeons. They burst into the air, settling a moment later. Gracie gives it another go, all but yelling “Hiyah!” as the birds flap around us.
One of the vendors calls out, “You just keep on going!”
I turn to him and smile. “Yeah, can you believe she’s 11 years old?”
“No, you,” he grins. “You’re like the energizer bunny, going and going.”
As Gracie pulls me on, I wonder. Why did he say that? I don’t know his name, but he knows something about me. At the end of my 1.6 mile walk around the reservoir, I return to his food cart.
“Hey, excuse me,“ I say. “Can I ask you a question?”
He turns from what he’s doing and steps closer to his cart window, looking down at me.
“Did you know that I’d been sick?” I ask him. “Is that why you said that before?”
He smiles kindly. “Yeah, I talked to the guy who walks your dog. I asked him about you.”
I let that sink in for a moment. I take another risk.
“You were sick a while back too, right? I noticed you’d lost weight, and then you weren’t around for a while.”
“I lost a kidney,” he replies. “But now I’m 100%.” He says this with a big smile, spreading his hands expansively to measure his improvement. “ What were you sick with?”
“Breast cancer,” I say, without hesitation. “Surgery, chemo, radiation, the whole shebang. Now I’m 100% too.”
I reach my hand into his cart. “I’m Debbie. Nice to meet you, neighbor.”
“Jimmy”, he says, shaking my hand.
I see this encounter as a reminder. I survived some pretty daunting medical treatment in 2013. But I had incredible support from some unexpected places. In addition to a community of colleagues and Bank Street College alumni who did everything from walking my dog to accompanying me to chemo appointments, I had my own secret weapon. I reached into my Child Life bag of tricks for coping mechanisms to help me through. I used play, humor, writing and videography to scaffold my journey.
This week I face a much less frightening surgery, an outpatient procedure to mend a torn tendon in my right wrist. Until this morning, though, I have to admit I was feeling a bit sorry for myself and pretty anxious about being stuck left handed for the duration of my recovery.
But Jimmy’s witnessing was a reminder. It jumpstarted my awareness of the lessons learned during cancer treatment. I have all that I need. It’s all here. I can handle this. All I have to do is reach for it.
6 thoughts on “Reach for It!”
I love this post 🙂 Good luck with your surgery and I’m sad to not be able to be with you in preop this time!
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Me too. You are a walking distraction, and I mean that in the nicest way. 💖
You are an inspiration Deb! Good luck on the surgery. Xox Esther
Love you, Deb! What an inspiring post. Will be thinking of you with your surgery. My best to your new neighbor, too. Nice photo. XO XO Betsy
WOW. I love reading your insights! Thank you.
Wow- and sometimes we do not recognize all of our resources. New Yorkers care! Love this look to the community support aspect. Thanks, Deb!
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