What my favorite red shoes taught me about surviving cancer

I scored them off a clearance rack at Banana Republic. As a poor college student, I thought Id hit the jackpot. A nice pair of leather, square-toed, red loafers were calling my name.

The shoes were professional yet fun. They could be dressed up or dressed down. My feet didnt hurt when I wore them. Nothing screamed my style more than these red loafers.

In a season full of class presentations and potential job interviews, I wore the red shoes proudly. They transformed my insecurity into confidence. In these shoes, I was going places. I believed I could change the world.

But one day I looked down to see the soles beginning to peel away. The toes of each shoe carried small scratches. There were cracks in the leather from the curves of my feet. I worried their days were numbered and Id soon throw them out.

Randomly over dinner one night, my father-in-law told a story about taking his shoes to a repair shop. My eyes lit up. He offered to take mine.

A few weeks later, he brought my shoes back. Theyd been polished and shined. The scuffs and scrapes from the wear and tear were barely noticeable anymore. And then I looked at the soles. A new, thin layer of rubber had replaced the old. The shoes were like new again. Actually, they were better than before.

I wore them proudly for several more years.

Surviving Cancers Wear and Tear

This weekend marks National Cancer Survivor Day. As I approach this annual celebration, I cant help but feel like my beloved pair of red shoes when it comes to my survivorship.

When I first became a cancer survivor 16 years ago, survivorship itself was a badge of honor. I felt so proud of my story, so thankful to be alive. Beating colon cancer at age 17 changed and transformed me. It gave me purpose and direction, as well as a new outlook on life.

But as the years wore on, the wear and tear came. Long-lasting, chronic side effects. Mental distress. Identity crisis. Post-traumatic stress. I found myself in poor shape. I was in desperate need of repair.

Fortunately, help came quickly.

Friends, family members and professionals stepped in to offer support. I found serenity with my suffering, I made peace with my painful past. The process felt excruciating in the moment, but it became beneficial in the long run. Just like my worn down red shoes that got a new set of soles, I too became whole again.

I got put back together.

The scars are still there, but theyre not holding me back. And I dare to hope Ive got more years on me. I found strength can come from a moment of weakness. And most importantly, red shoes or not, I believe again that I can be used to change the world.