"You Really Didn't Look So Good..."

A few days ago, I spoke with a dear friend of mine to make some long overdue lunch plans. We worked together for quite some time many years ago. He had visited me a few times while I was in the hospital. I can remember one of his visits quite well. The others, not so much. As we chatted, we commented on how we couldn't believe that we hadn't managed to get together since I've been out of the hospital. The last time he saw me, I was bald and wearing the ever so fashionable hospital johnny. That's when he commented, in a very concerned tone, "The last time I saw you, you really didn't look so good. I thought, this is not good." I could hear it in his voice. He had a huge question in his mind as to whether I would make it or not. I have experienced this concern, this fear, from many people in different ways, with different levels of emotion and doubt. As unbelievable as it may seem, there were even a few people that I had to comfort over my diagnosis. No joke. I'm the one who was facing an untimely death and I was the one doing the comforting? Whacked.

But, there were two people who stood out above the rest. Two people that every time I saw them or spoke with them, they had "assumed the sale" as it were that I would be ok. It wasn't a denial kind of thing. No, they were well aware of the mountain that I faced. But, there was a confidence and a calm that was addictive to me. One person was my husband. Sure, he had plenty of fear and worry, but he also had an unshakable confidence. He was in every way possible, my rock. Then there was Rich. I have worked with Rich for 10 years now. We've designed and developed many, many successful footwear lines together. His world was turned upside down about two weeks after I received my diagnosis. He was unceremoniously ousted from the company he founded and grew from the ground up. And, the people that engineered his ousting were all his friends. Betrayal at it's purest. Perhaps it was the fact that we were both at a proverbial bottom that forged the mutual confidence in each other. Rich would visit all the time. He would fill my long days with hilarious stories. He would bring me work. A wonderful blessing. While I could tell he doubted his ability to pick himself up and start anew, I never doubted that he would be able to do just that. He is a true shoe genius. And, he never doubted that I would beat this wicked cancer and keep designing shoes, just as I had so many seasons before.

I am proud to say, Rich has started anew and I was right there with him. Our new footwear line will launch in Spring '10. I will post a link when it's out so you can all see what unwavering confidence looks like in shoe form.