Tag Archives: chemotheraphy

My Cinderella Shoes

My husband R and I were living in an Army Mess at Rawalpindi. We had shifted there due to R’s bout with cancer. He needed to be near to CMH (Combined Military Hospital) to get chemotherapy. Staying in a hotel in the long run was an expensive issue, and R didn’t want to be 24 hours in CMH where he had a room in the Senior Officers Ward. 

Almost all his course mates rallied round him once it was known he was residing in Pindi. Many bought home cooked meals and soups when they came to visit with R. God bless them. 

To show how much he appreciated them, R wanted a party. We arranged for a dinner in the dinning room  of the Officers Mess. The only problem was with me not having party clothes or shoes. I had brought along with me (from Peshawar) few clothes, and hardly any shoes at all. I wasn’t expecting a party, and never thought that in the circumstances we were having I would be the one hosting one such event.

As soon as R had his chemo of the day, I went with our driver to the local market to look for shoes and clothes. None of the tailors I met with that day were ready to stitch me clothes in two days time. I came to the conclusion that I will have to forgo new clothes and will have to wear one of the washed (many a times) old one. 

I searched for shoes in some of the shops, but none were to my liking. Finally I spied what I wanted. It looked like glass shoes, but they looked beautiful. It had one drawback. The front of the shoes was decorated with gaudy material I didn’t like. Fortunately it could be removed. 

I still have those shoes in my wardrobe in Peshawer. It’s a reminder of a day in my life.




Write a new post in response to today’s one-word prompt.



When was the last time someone told you they were proud of you?


Who was going to tell me that he, or she is proud of me? What a tricky question?

I phoned my daughter, and asked her, “are you proud of me?”

She started, “you had no mother to follow a role model……….” She started laughing , “haha…”
Oops! I was getting alarmed. Was she laughing at me?
“No, I can’t hold my tears”. She cried in earnest.
I did get an earful of praise from her. No use writing, that’s so contrived.

Although I suppose I can write about my late husband. Two weeks before he died, we returned to our rooms from the hospital. He was drained of energy after his chemotherapy session. I fed him chicken soup, and helped him to bed. As I was covering him with a sheet, he remarked that he was not going to make it.

I couldn’t stop crying, although I always took care not to cry in front of him. I asked his forgiveness for anything I may have done in my life with him. He tried to get up, but he had gone so weak. With tears in his eyes, he asked my forgiveness, and said that he was proud that I was his wife…….


The Alms

Ready, Set, Done!
by Ben Huberman
Our ten-minute free-write is back for another round! Tap away on whatever comes to mind, no filters attached. (Feel free to edit later, or just publish as-is).


When my (late) husband health deteriorated with chemotherapy, and he stopped driving, we had to employ a driver to take me around for the outside chores. I could drive, but for safety sake my husband insisted on a driver. When I was out, he would worry. A lone woman in our male oriented society (back home) riddled with bombs, and terrorism wasn’t a safe place anymore.

I would buy fruit from vendors with carts, who sold them at cheaper prices than the fruit shops.

An old man would be sitting under a nearby tree. In front of him was his alms bowl. He never begged. If someone put money in his bowl, he would murmur, “God bless you”, otherwise he remained silent.

He was different from the other beggars who clutch at you as soon as you step down from your car. It made a person feel irritated. At times I didn’t feel like giving them anything.

Finished with my buying I quietly slipped a money note in the old man’s bowl. While I was getting in the car, I saw a teenage boy bend down to the alms bowl, as if to put money in it. Instead he snatched the note I had put in it, and away he ran.

I told my driver to run after the boy, but the old man stopped us. He said, “God never intended that money for me. If He had, it never would have been taken away from me.”

I was astonished at the old man’s calm acceptance.