Walking Alone

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The days where you’re on death’s bed, faking your smile, crying every minute on the inside for some type of relief just wishing you had a broken foot.

I’ll never forget the day after my husband told me about what the doctors said, “We are very afraid of where she’ll be in two months if she’s even with us.” Odd it’s the day after but let me explain. I worked on the 3rd floor of a local mall and to get to my car I had to take the elevator to the first level. 4 other co-workers walked with me. As we walked we had to pass by many clothing stores, a dollar store and by the exit doors was the food court. This was like any other day, only according to the doctors I only had about 59 more of them left to live.

I walked as I usually did, with my friends. When we neared the exit door there was a young woman with a broken foot in front of us, walking lightly on her casted foot, alone. There were 2 men, I would say in their 40s, sitting at a near by table. They saw the young woman in front of us and jumped up to help open the door. In the process they kind of shoved me to the side, giving all of us a dirty look. Almost to say, “Can’t you see this young lady needs help!” They opened the door for her, smiled, and told her to have a great day. They then pushed the door closed so I had to open it myself and they went and sat down.

I wondered, if they actually knew would it have been the other way? Would the men at the table have jumped up and opened the door for me, giving the same dirty look and shove to the young girl with the broken foot? 

The girl wth the broken foot would be ‘normal’ and back to her every day life as usual in weeks. I was running out of those weeks. But the truth is, we all do it. If we see a physical ailment, we often bend over backwards to help those people, to make their life just that much easier even if just for a moment. But what about those that you didn’t hold the door open for and today is there last day? Would you have changed your interaction with them?

It’s simply so much easier to have an ailment that everyone can see than to live with brain tumors, pain, and so much more. I would rather wobble alone down a dirty mall hall to an exit door in so much pain because I have a broken foot, then to walk perfectly fine (most days) with a group of friends, a fake smile on my face, not knowing if I have a tomorrow.

Many times, even alongside many, I feel like I’m walking alone. But as life has different plans for me, I walk no matter what. Alone or not.

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