How could I NOT be thinking of Chandler Bing this week? This fucking week! Ugh. I got a call from the doctor while I was out of town, happily working with clients and just being away. She pierced my happy I'm-not-thinking-of-cancer-I'm-busy-and-out-of-town bubble with the news that the fourth biopsy (and you know how I feel about biopsies!) came back with yet a third known cancerous site in my left breast. With that revelation came her additional thoughts. "Are you considering mastectomy?"
Well...I was. But then I was assured without the BRCA gene mutation, it didn't need to be my path. And I got kind of used to believing I was going to keep my breast and just have a little lumpectomy with reduction/lift surgery and walk away smelling like a rose. Ok, possibly a slightly burnt rose after radiation treatment, but still.
And now? Now I'm back to my original thoughts. Just take the damn things - both of them - and let me NEVER deal with this shit again.
And Matthew Perry is dead. I find my brain gravitating there. Chandler Bing was my absolute favorite character on "Friends". Why? Most likely because he's me. Or I'm him. I'm not sure which way it goes when you're comparing a fictional character to a real-life character. I totally got his sense of humor and found it outrageously funny. I have the same sense of humor. On the surface it's endearing, laugh-out-loud, self-deprecating, ease any tension, kind of humor. But dig a little deeper...oh, wait, this humor is meant to keep you from digging deeper. It's the "don't look behind the curtain" kind of funny. It's only funny until you're really trying to get closer to someone but then you realize the humor is masking real emotion, keeping people who want to take the time to truly get to know you at arms' distance.
Chandler was a pro. I could give him a run for his money, though. Because unless you absolutely corner me, you'll never hear a serious emotion from me. But be careful - if you DO corner me, one of two things may happen. I'll either burst straight through you, horns first, like the natural Taurus that I am, or I'll fall to the ground, a nonfunctioning mushy puddle of tears.
This morning, I decided to work on my QuickBooks. I realized it was giving me error messages because a bank account that was connected has been closed, so I disconnected that link to clean up the error. And - boo - all of the transactions for the year disappeared. And I don't even have the receipts to enter them manually because that's supposed to be the beauty of cloud accounting. So what did I do? Unlike Mr. Bing, I sat in my office and cried. I cried about all the work I'll have to do to make my 2023 accounting right again. I cried because I don't know how to handle cancer, or mastectomy discussions, or reaching out and letting people know I'm not ok. I cried because when YOU are the one who backs yourself into the corner, there's no one else there to trample like a bull. I cried because all of the emotion about this situation that I've been keeping to myself has knotted itself up into a huge ball inside and tears seem like the only solution.
So, after a few minutes of being a puddle, I channeled Chandler again and ran to the store for a pack of cigarettes (because that's totally what a cancer patient needs!). And as I sat there puffing and feeling even worse - for some crazy reason I thought it would make me feel better! - I realized that my smoking may be linked to hiding my emotions. While it made me feel sick to my stomach and giving me a scratchy throat, it calmed me down and made me feel more in control of my emotions. And maybe I shouldn't be in control of my emotions. Maybe I should allow myself more than two emotional outlets and go beyond "tightly controlled, mask it all with humor" and "mess with the bull, you'll get the horns". Maybe it's time to say goodbye to Chandler Bing.
I read that Matthew Perry, who struggled with a drug addiction for years, got himself cleaned up and spent a great deal of time and money helping others who struggle from addiction. That he had hoped when he died more people would remember him for that than remembered him for his work on "Friends". One excerpt I saw from his book mentioned how he got to the point where he just cried and prayed and begged for help. Such raw emotion. I was in awe - the man who perfected a character that masked emotions with humor expressed such raw emotion.
So yes, this is a terrible week. It was supposed to be my "last" week. The last week before surgery. The last week to maybe feel "normal". The last week with both of my breasts in tact and "natural". A week to feel ok before having to really dive in and deal with all of this cancer shit. And it came crashing down. So, why wouldn't I rather sit around thinking about Chandler Bing and Matthew Perry?
But I know, now, that really, as crappy as it is, this is a week I must ask all the questions (again), get all the information (again), make new decisions all over again and process my emotions pre-surgery. It's overwhelming. I'm overwhelmed. I'm scared. I'm sad. Actually, I'm terrified and I want to scream, "I don't want to do this anymore!!"
Very un-Chandler-like, I know. But something tells me this is where our paths diverge.
댓글