“What’s Up with the Yellow Shoes?”

That's a Good Question

Part of the occasional series called “That’s a Good Question.”

What’s Up with the Yellow Shoes?

If you’ve been around The Incurable for a while, you’ve likely seen photos of people in their happy yellow shoes. You’ve seen the photo of the yellow Converse sneakers as the anchor image. But several of you have asked: “Um, why the yellow Converse? What’s up with the yellow shoes?” To answer, let’s zip back in time … yes, to a year ago when the yellow Converse entered the picture, but even before that to talk about one of my favorite subjects: shoes!

I have loved shoes for as long as I can remember. My favorite dress when I was in preschool was a bright fluorescent orange confection with a pattern of green and purple platform loafers. I wanted to wear it every day. This festive [hideous?] outfit was in contrast to the shoes that I had to wear on my feet. Because of my leg length discrepancy, I had to wear horribly ugly shoes with a lift for the shorter leg. They were fitted at the hospital, and I had exactly one option for style: blah brown oxford.

Off to start school saddled with blah brown shoes.

I always wanted the cute saddle shoes that the girls who had leg braces could choose. I never got the cute saddle shoes. Just brown, brown, brown, blah, blah, blah. To this day, I do not care for brown shoes.

My sister is wearing the cute saddle shoes. I am wearing the blah brown oxfords. Her coat game is also on point.

In third grade, I realized that I could be very sneaky and hide cute sandals in my book bag and change shoes at school. I then realized that the flaw in my sneaky plan was that my teachers and parents would converse and my teachers would report to my parents whether I was wearing my medically mandated shoes and my mother would start checking my book bag before I left for school each day. Thwarted!

One of the great joys after having surgery in fourth grade was that I no longer had to wear the medically mandated shoes. I remember when my mother bought my first pair of heels for me to wear to my cousin Elizabeth’s wedding. I remember my first pair of Nike sneakers with the light blue swoosh. I remember finding paratrooper boots at the Army Navy Surplus Store that I wore my last two years of college. (Not my mother’s favorite of my shoe preferences.) As if to make up for years of wearing blah boring brown oxfords in my childhood, I developed a particular fondness for bright and weird shoes.

One of the hilarious horrible ironies of getting my cancer diagnosis involves shoes. I’d had my eye on a pair of fantastic weird shoes, the Fluevog Munster, for years. They went on sale at the end of 2020, and although we were still in the throes of the pandemic lockdowns—and I work from home anyway and barely even need to wear shoes at all—I decided to treat myself. Snag #1: The shoes were being shipped from the Netherlands, and although I ordered them in 2020 they weren’t actually shipped until January 2021 … which was after the Brexit agreement came into force. This entailed over two months of wrangling with the delivery company and U.K. customs office over the financial terms of bringing me the shoes. Snag #2: By the time that I had all the customs information sorted and received the shoes, I was experiencing horrible back pain and could barely stand, much less walk. So my beloved weird Munsters have made one wobbly loop around my house and that’s it.

Wearing my Fluevog Munsters. I can hear the collective sigh of relief that these were not the “joy nugget” shoes!

And that brings us to the yellow Converse. On May 6, 2021, I sent an email to a small group of friends and family. The day before I had received the diagnosis of a collapsed vertebra, spinal cord compression, and secondary cancer in my bones. I started radiotherapy that day to try to shrink the largest tumor. In that email, I said the following:

I will say that this week I have had a deep kernel of joy, which has been a gift. I’ve felt that joy flicker and spark in different ways, for which I am so grateful. I’ll share two of them here with you. One is this recording of one of my favorite songs, which has been in my mind most mornings when I wake up. The other is my bright yellow sunshine-y shoes, which make me smile even when I’m wearing them in the scanner and radiation machine and oncology office. (I mean … it’s me—you knew shoes were probably going to be on the happy list!)

I shared this photo:

Wearing yellow sneakers in May 2021

I kept wearing my happy yellow shoes to all my radiotherapy and oncology appointments—it never hurts in Scotland to bring some sunshine in on your feet if you can’t order it to appear in the sky—and then various friends and loved ones decided to get their own happy yellow shoes as gestures of solidarity and prayer support.

I don’t wear my yellow shoes every day or even to every medical appointment now. But they continue to spark joy, not only because they are yellow and bright but also because they remind me of the incredible community of friends, loved ones, medical staff, and more who have walked alongside me in their own literal or metaphorical yellow shoes. Now when I lace them up, I have a tangible reminder in my hands of God’s work to sustain my body and nourish my spirit. The brown oxfords of my childhood were necessary for my shorter leg; the yellow Converse might not be medically mandated, but they have been soles that encourage my soul (if you’ll forgive the shoe pun).

And that is the story behind the yellow shoes!

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Treatment Updates

I had an oncology appointment! And I kinda sorta have an oncologist! I’m being told that he’ll come up from Edinburgh in order to see my cohort of patients in clinics in Perth. I still have some mental asterisks appended to this; it’s now the fourth “plan” that I’ve been told will be in place for oncology care in the past six months. And I should note that this seems just as, if not even more, stressful for the medical professionals. The nurses are continuing to be impressive in a less than ideal circumstance. The oncologist, who I do like very much, seemed so tired. I worry how long this current version of the oncology care plan is going to be sustainable from a human energy and capacity perspective. Say a prayer for the doctors, nurses, and therapists.

That said, here are the big treatment notes:

• My scans indicate that my disease remains stable. Granted, these scans were done in April and I’m just now getting the results. They’re practically pensioners, they’re so old. But it is still excellent news that my most recent scans, albeit from April, show that my treatment is working and the disease is not progressing.

• The oncologist will try to have the neurosurgery team here notified and prepared for when I return from surgery. This is a much longer topic, but for now I’ll just say that I think he’ll do the best he can on that front.

• I’ve graduated from this phase of neuro rehab! We concluded with my favorite neuro practice: standing and marching on the BOSU ball while batting a balloon. I’ll have to continue my neuro practice as long as I can—it’s use it or lose it—but my physiotherapist feels like we’re in good shape to shift our focus to post-op recovery after my surgery.

There is so much to be thankful for! And please continue to pray for the preparation and logistics for the surgery and travel.

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One More Note

After one year and 40 posts, The Incurable is growing! I’ll have more information to share soon, but plans are underway to expand the existing updates, include more people in conversation, and offer more opportunities for community involvement. I’m excited and grateful to be able to keep walking with you!