TGIF: It's so good to see you, my friend.

Hello and happy Friday, patrons! You’ll never believe it, but I just got back from a doctor’s appointment. I had a pre-op appointment at my general practitioner’s office to make sure my body won’t freak the fuck out during surgery. I haven’t seen my general practitioner since earlier this year, which now seems like a different era of time completely, and it felt like I was reuniting with a paternal ghost from some dreamscape of my previous life. He walked in to shake my hand hello (because he’s hilariously formal sometimes) and I thought my hand might go right through him. Turns out he wasn’t a ghost of my pre-op past, he was human. It also turns out watching A Muppet Christmas Carol the other night might have planted some ghostly visuals in my head. Of course this fever dream dialogue was only happening quietly in the background of my brain while the front-facing side of my body factory was attempting to appear “healthy” and “surgery ready”.

Meanwhile, my emotions were already glitching because he has this absolutely lovely man who works his front desk named James. James has been working that front desk since I first started going to that front desk ten years ago. James is probably in his late 60s, always upbeat, with a very slight southern twang that makes everything he says incredibly charming. He told me I’d be in the room on the right at the end of the hall and just after I started down the hallway he said “it’s so good to see you, my friend.” I was in the middle of my look-at-how-healthy-I-am strut to the room on the right and I felt like I got hit with an emotional arrow.

It’s so good to see you, my friend.

FUUUCK.

Something about those words got me good in a completely unexpected way. Before I knew it I could feel tears in my eyes, but I kept moving while getting out a quick “you too”. I got to the room and closed the door and let out a huge breath, as if my body was trying to make space for the tears to go back in. Damn these damn hormones, I thought. And then the tiny mental spiral continued.

…and damn James for saying it was so good to see me because he hasn’t seen me because I’ve had breast cancer and he inherently knows how hard that’s been especially because he works in a doctor’s office and he knows what it means for me to be in this office for this pre-op now and how literal and symbolic that is of winning a fight he hasn’t seen but likely knows the depths of and that hiding is a byproduct of battling so seeing is a suggestion of winning…

And just then I heard James’ voice saying a muffled “Bye, my friend, good to see you” as the lobby door closed.

Oh. Right.

My brain instantly went back in time playing a flashback of previous visits as James muttered the same “it’s so good to see you, my friend” as I walked down the hall earlier this year, last year, and the year before.

That’s just what James says. The tears were safely back in their docking station.

But, I won’t discount James’ genuine care. I do think he meant an extra something special to me as he said those words this time. And it registered. And it was one of those teeny tiny “whoa” moments that shook me by shoulders and snapped me out of the isolated surreality that surrounds this experience and reminded me of just how real it is. It reminded me of how much has happened and how much my body and brain have been through in such a short period of time. My mind doesn’t have the processing speed to make sense of it all in real time, but I get glimpses of the big picture in moments like this.

There’s a physical and psychological transformation happening to me and I’m desperately trying to keep up with it. Seeing a sweet peach like James feels like I’m seeing someone I knew from a previous life. And his familiar sentiments pierce me in a new way. It’s like they poke a hole in a floodgate I don’t realize was holding back a wave of emotion. Emotion that recognizes the hardship. But there’s no conscious effort to dam up any emotions. I’ve been talking in therapy, and have heard from many of you, that this phase of healing/treatment is complicated and sometimes very overwhelming. So, I’ve been anticipating and attempting to accept its awkwardness. It’s like I can feel myself going through a medical puberty. Or molting in some way. Things are shedding (more than just my hair). And a little phrase like “it’s so good to see you, my friend” suddenly allows me to look down and see my dead ass old exoskeleton on the ground. Metaphorically speaking. But who knows, there’s still a few weeks for the chemo drugs to work themselves out of my system so maybe a last minute wild side effect like molting my whole ass exoskeleton will show up!

Anyway, this is all to say that I’m starting to feel the progress and the plight of the last few months and WHEW it’s emotional. There’s still a ways to go, but wow little moments will bring me back down to earth from the non-fiction fantasy I’ve been living in. I have equal parts:

-eager excitement for everything I want to do and see and eat and experience as I heal

-emotional overload at the thought of physically seeing family for the first time in my new exoskeleton over the next few months

-a neutral numbness that simply cannot register the complexity of feelings all at once and reminds me to take it one day at a time still

Chemo may be over, but this next phase of treatment seems to be INFUSED with feelings. I have a feeling I will continue to be feeling a lot of feelings over the next few months. Here we go!

**An old white ‘dressed to repress’ sweatshirt waves in the wind like the ultimate surrender flag**

Speaking of making sense of a seemingly fictional experience, I chose a new book for the next BAR flies! Thank you for all of the wonderful suggestions! I actually bought a few of them just to read on my own. But I thought I’d challenge myself a little bit for ol BAR Flies and try a FICTION BOOK. Is that even how you say it? Why does that look wrong to me. Hahaha. I literally cannot tell you the last time I read a FICTION BOOK, so let’s give it a go! We’re reading Remarkably Bright Creatures by Shelby Van Pelt!

Just look at how great the cover is! I'm excited! And thank you Rachel for suggesting! As she put it "Octopus helps a woman solve her son’s disappearance. So much better than it sounds unless that sounds good to you lol". I love it! I'm gonna ask you to hold SUNDAY JANUARY 21st for the livestream. How's 2pm PST for everyone? We'll try that for now and see how it holds.

Okay that wraps up this internet diary entry. Thanks for letting me spill my guts. I'm gonna go eat some snacks and make some tea. O0oo0ooooOoOOooo! I hope you all have great weekends. Thanks, as always, for being here (it's so good to see you, my friends). 💚G