Crammed inside a subway car in Manhattan—feeling remarkably generous, as I often do these days—I smiled at a young woman with a fancy black ponytail hairdo who was intensely staring at me. She didn't smile back. She said: "This is the second time you stepped on my shoe."It was quite possible that I stepped on her foot. I'm a little clumsy nowadays. Almost three years ago, at age 29, I was diagnosed with stage III colon cancer The chemotherapy treatment that followed left me, among other keepsakes, with neuropathy in my feet, numbness and tingling similar to what advanced diabetes patients experience. One day I walked two blocks barefoot before I noticed my missing sandal."I'm sorry," I said, then whispered, "I know this will sound strange, but I can't feel my feet."She rolled her eyes.
Haha... ha... ah, yeah. Dying is funny.
"He had cancer!" "And laughter is the best medicine."