For the past year and a half, I have been dealing with a chronic and terrifying disease. Although my skin is clear now and treatments are keeping it at bay, just over a year ago my body was covered with lesions, plaques, and tumors. The disease is called mycosis fungoides and it is appropriately initialized, mf. It’s a very rare type of cutaneous lymphoma – me and 30,000 other people in the US and Canada have it. It’s chronic and patients can live out a normal life span, especially if it stays just in the skin and doesn’t spread to other organs. In the midst of this, a condition I have that predates the mf has worsened. Perhaps your body sometimes says, “Well, she handled that well; let’s see what she does with this.”

A recent nerve conduction test revealed that I have sensory nerve neuropathy. Not just hands and feet, but my whole body feels numb. It makes balance and walking a challenge, hence the cane. Barefooted, at home, I do much better. Unfortunately, one must wear shoes when going out.

I don’t know why I’m telling you all this. You’re a millipede and, though I am watching you intently, you seem to be totally unaware of my existence. But on watching you walk tonight I ponder, “How do you know which leg to move first? Do you have to concentrate when walking, as I do, or lose your footing? I have to wonder, is this why fate brought us together? This chance encounter in the wee small hours has me contemplating what the future holds. Will walking ever be effortless again? Is the cane permanent and will there be more? Walker? Wheelchair? How is it for you? Or is the lesson here to take one day at a time? Does being in the moment lend you the faith to take that first step? Too much looking ahead leads to dread and worry and that can lead to a type of paralysis – something you don’t appear to have and the very thing I fear. What now? As I watch, you’re walking backward?? That has to be a freaking miracle!”