Please don't stop reviewing...I love all the encouragement. Thank you everyone! This part in particular is for Violetfishy who gave me the confidence to post this part. Thank you:D
I don't own any of them
Phoebe entered Joey's apartment. Rachel, who was now staying with Joey, looked up from her magazine. "Hey Pheebs."
"Hey." Phoebe plopped down in a chair and sighed heavily. "Joey around?"
"Nope. I think he had an audition." Phoebe appeared crestfallen. "What's up Pheebs?"
Phoebe waved dismissively. "It's nothing. It's stupid."
Rachel sat on the arm of the chair and put her arm around Phoebe's shoulder. "C'mon, something's bothering you. You can tell me." She gave her shoulder a supportive squeeze.
"Alright. I haven't been sleeping much lately." Judging by Phoebe's haggard appearance Rachel had already guessed that. "I've been having this dream over and over - a couple of times a week."
"'Bout what sweetie?"
"That's just it. I'm not really sure. I just have this bad...feeling. I see Joey on a plane and he's obviously upset. I think Ross may even be there. And I see me, you and Mon looking at our watches like we're waiting for something. But I have no idea what. And then I wake up. Usually I've been crying in my sleep and I wake up really sad." Phoebe seemed as if she would start crying now.
"Oh, honey. How long has this been going on?"
"About six months now."
Rachel mulled that over. It didn't take her long to make the connection. She watched Phoebe get up and grab a juice from the fridge before she spoke, "Six months, huh? Either that explains it or it's an awfully big coincidence," Rachel was thinking out loud.
"Rachel, what in the hell are you talking about?"
"Did your dreams start about the time Chandler was diagnosed?"
Phoebe pondered that for a moment. "Yeah, I guess. But I don't see what that has to do with anything. Chandler's not even in my dream." Rachel raised her eyebrows at Phoebe. Phoebe drew in a sharp breath. "Oh my God! I'm dreaming of the future - one without Chandler in it!"
"Not necessarily. Freud believed we work out our anxieties in our dreams. Maybe you're dealing with this whole thing by doing just that - working it out in your subconscious."
"That sounds like a really good explanation, but it's not like I'm super stressed out like the others."
Rachel chewed on her lip. "I'm not exactly sure what you mean."
Phoebe played with her hair. "Of course I feel really sad and I worry about Chandler. But this whole thing is hardest on him, Mon, and Joey. My worries kinda pale in comparison. That's all I meant."
Rachel nodding in understanding, but Phoebe's recurring dream disturbed her. She had a sense of foreboding deep in her gut.
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Chandler sat across from the doctor, shaken up by what he just heard. He had expected bad news, but not this bad news. "Are - are you sure?"
The doctor gave a curt nod. "The tests confirm it. We need to start ASAP."
Chandler swallowed hard. "I need to talk to my wife."
"Of course."
Chandler stood up and shook the doctor's hand, more out of polite habit than gratitude. "I'll be in touch."
He walked out of the office numb. He reached out to touch the elevator button and realized his hand was trembling.
The elevator doors opened and Chandler rushed out of the building, not really sure where he was going. So many thoughts ran through his head that he couldn't think clearly. Monica had to be told; that was obvious. It was the 'how' that gave him pause once again.
The city passed by in a blur of lights and sounds. He wanted to be the cab driver, the hot dog vendor, the traffic cop...anyone but him. His life was tumbling down around him one brick at a time and he had no idea how to hold up the wall.
Chandler stared at the pack of cigarettes that suddenly appeared in his hand unbeknownst to him. After a brief inner debate, he lit one and took a long drag. It had an immediate calming effect. The world came back into focus again and he knew what he had to do.
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Monica rushed through the supermarket picking up various ingredients. She had been experimenting with different dishes, trying to find something that Chandler could eat without getting sick. Her last several experiments had failed miserably. Even the macaroni and cheese with cut up hot dogs made him sick.
The amount of weight he had lost seemed to grow day by day. His appearance was teetering on gaunt. Sometimes it hurt her just to look at him. She had never loved anyone like this and if multiple culinary endeavors kept his weight up, she would gladly do it.
Monica was reaching for an onion when she felt a tap on her shoulder. She turned around and subsequently let the onion fall to the ground. It rolled down the aisle.
"Hello, Monica."
"Rich - Richard."
Richard picked up the onion and fingered it. "You can close your mouth now."
"Right. Um, how have you been?" She took the onion back and tossed it in the basket. She motioned him to join her at the checkout counter.
Richard obediently followed. "Pretty good, actually. I'm a grandfather again. So how are things with you? How's Chandler?"
Monica quickly bagged her items and left the store without responding. "Did I say something wrong? Talk to me, Monica." Richard stepped in front of her and blocked her path.
Monica reached out and squeezed his forearm. She led him over to a bench across the street. "I'm sorry, I didn't mean to be rude. We've all been under a lot of stress lately."
"Are you and Chandler having...problems?"
"Not the way you're insinuating," Monica snapped. Monica's face softened and she looked at him apologetically. She started over. "It has been a tough six months." She chewed on her bottom lip to suppress the emotions that wanted to bubble over the surface.
"Care to elaborate?"
Monica let her hair fall softly in front of her face without brushing it back. She exhaled, causing her hair to riffle slightly. "Chandler's been sick."
Richard blinked in surprise. It was such a broad statement. She could've meant, well anything. "Is he okay?" Monica only shook her head, not trusting herself to speak. "Monica?"
Monica squeezed her eyes shut to keep back the tears. "No. No he's not." She tried to get her breathing under control. "He has - he has cancer." All the feelings she had been holding in came out in a rush. She sobbed openly against his jacket.
Richard accepted her onto his shoulder. He was shocked and saddened at the news. He really liked Chandler and genuinely wanted Monica and Chandler to have a happy life together. He meant what he said when he told Chandler to go after her. "I'm so sorry."
In time Monica settled down, and she filled in all the blanks from surgery to chemo. She even disclosed the reason for her errand. She invited him to dinner without thinking, and he accepted. He wanted to see Chandler for himself and see if there was anything he could do.
Monica had second thoughts, but the invitation was already extended. Out of consideration, she decided to call Chandler.
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"Hello?" Chandler jumped across the couch to answer the phone.
"Hi, baby. How are things going?" Monica's voice was very tentative and Chandler did not miss that fact.
"You know, the usual." Chandler needed to tell her, but he did not want to do it over the phone.
"Are you feeling alright?"
Chandler was becoming slightly annoyed at that question. "I suppose. Why don't you tell me what's going on, Mon."
"I kinda ran into someone today." Chandler could hear her breathing on the other end. "Richard."
Chandler chose not to respond. Monica knew how he felt about him. God, that was all he needed today. He rubbed his free hand over his face.
"He wanted to see everybody so...I asked him over for dinner. I hope it's okay. If it's not, just say the word" Her words came out in a rush belying her nervousness. "Are you there?"
"Yeah, I'm here. That's fine." He knew he sounded less-than-enthusiastic, but in reality in would allow him to put off telling Monica the bad news.
"Okay, good. We'll see you soon." She hung up the phone. Chandler immediately picked up the phone and called Joey for backup.
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Richard was stunned at Chandler's wan appearance. He tried to cover it with a warm smile and a handshake, but he got the distinct feeling Chandler saw through it.
An uncomfortable silence ensued. Chandler felt like a specimen under a microscope. He adjusted his baseball cap and pushed up the sleeves of his baggy sweater. "So um, Richard...how are things with you?"
"Good. Good. Can't complain. You?"
Chandler laughed uncomfortably. "I thought you knew. I kinda thought that's why you were here."
Richard nodded noncommitally. "Yep. You caught me."
Chandler gave Monica a sidelong glance which she pretended not to notice. He silently pleaded with Joey to hurry up.
"So Monica tells me you see Dr. Marshall?"
"Yeah."
"He's one of the best. You're in good hands." More awkward silence followed. "So are you finished with treatment?"
The oven timer dinged drawing Monica into the kitchen and out of earshot. Only then did Chandler respond. "Not exactly."
Joey burst into the apartment slightly out of breath. "Hey guys! What's for dinner?"
Chandler smiled inwardly at Monica's annoyed countenance. "Good to see you, Joe." Sometimes Joey's timing was impeccable.
Joey gave Chandler's shoulder a brotherly pat as he passed. He headed straight for the refrigerator. "Hey Chan, catch. You need to drink that."
Chandler's hand closed around a bottle of water. He twisted off the cap and took a sip. "I have two personal nurse-maids," he joked weakly to Richard as Monica put dinner on the table.
Chandler spent much of the dinner pushing food around his plate while listening to the forced small talk. He was reluctant to eat. Throwing up in front of company was not his idea of a fun evening, but then again, neither was sitting across the table from your wife's ex-boyfriend.
Joey nudged him in the ribs, laughing at something Richard had said. That move triggered an ache deep in his chest. It spread down to his belly sparking off a wave of nausea. He quickly excused himself, barely making it. The few bites he had eaten had come back up. He sat back on the edge of the tub trying to gather his dignity before going back out there. A knock at the door interrupted his thoughts. "I'm fine, Mon. I'm okay, Joe."
The door opened slowly. "It's not either one."
Chandler's humiliation reached new heights when he saw Richard standing before him. "Are you alright?"
"Yeah," he answered breathlessly.
"Does this happen every night?"
Chandler nodded sheepishly. Richard started examining him. "What're you doing?"
"Chandler, you're dangerously dehydrated. You need to go to the hospital and get fluids."
"No!" Chandler shook his head vehemently. "No hospital. Not tonight. I won't do it."
Richard knew that arguing with Chandler was pointless. He tried a new tactic. "I've got an idea. I've got some supplies at work. We could give you some fluids here. Only...I don't have any supplies to access your port. I'd have to stick you."
Chandler glance down at his port that was currently exposed. He adjusted his sweater to cover it up. He mulled over Richard's idea. Truthfully, he probably was dangerously dehydrated, and it sure beat going to the ER. "Okay."
Richard returned nearly an hour later. Chandler laid on the couch and offered up his arm. Monica and Joey watched as Richard slid the needle home. Once all the tubing was connected, he hooked up the saline and hung it on the coatrack that they were using as a makeshift iv pole. Richard eyed the drip chamber.
Chandler watched the fluid infusing. "Thanks, Richard."
"No sweat." He turned to Monica and gave her some instructions. "I'm going to take off now, but I'll come back tomorrow to take out the iv. Remember, two more bags after this."
Monica walked him to the door. "Thank you for everything."
"No, thank you. But please, if either of you need anything, call me."
"Sure."
"And Monica? Take care of Chandler."
"Count on it." She accepted a quick peck on the cheek and clicked the door shut behind him.
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Joey had just left and the couple was finally alone. Chandler still lay on the couch and Monica came and sat beside him. She slid her hand into his and waited for him to open his eyes. "The last bag's almost done."
He looked behind him sleepily. "Yeah," He let out a long sigh. "The doctor called me today. He wanted me to come see him...so I did."
Monica's heart fluttered in her chest. She suddenly didn't want to know what new obstacle would be tossed in their path. Chandler's eyes slowly came into view. Their blueness was magnified by the unshed tears. At that moment her heart stopped completely. "What did he say?"
"You want the good or the bad first?"
"Good."
"All my lymph nodes are now cancer free. But -" He drew her head onto his chest. Chandler couldn't bear to see the look on her face when he told her. "- the spot on my leg isn't going away. In fact, it's gotten bigger. They want to do about four more weeks of radiation treatment."
Monica started to raise her head, but Chandler gently pushed it back against his chest. "And there's more bad news..."
This time Chandler couldn't stop her from sitting up. He read the anxiety in her eyes, but she remained quiet waiting for him to continue. "The scan revealed a new spot - on my lung." He took both of Monica's hands in his. "It's still spreading, Mon."
Monica let out the breath she had been holding. Her next breath turned into a sob. "Are they sure?"
Chandler kissed the top of her head. "Yeah, they're sure."
He held her tight, letting the tears flow freely. "I, uh kinda need some advice. The thing is, I'm not sure what to do here."
Monica moved to the coffee table so she could face him. "Whatever you choose, I will support you sweetie."
Chandler brought her hand to his lips. "I know, but it's complicated and I'm not sure what I want. Well, that's not completely true. I do know what I want most of all." Monica gave him a sad smile, understanding what he meant. "None of the options make me feel particularly comfortable with any of them."
"So, let's lay it on the table. What exactly are we talking about here?"
"More radiation treatment and more extensive chemo which means me being in the hospital." His scratched his head trying to say the next part as delicately as possible. "They could also do more surgery to remove the cancer , and continue the radiation and chemo as is."
Monica took a shuddering breath. "What kind of surgery?"
"They's remove part of my lung. And, um -" Chandler ran a nervous hand over his face, shaking his head simultaneously.
"What? What is it?" Monica let a stray tear run down her cheek. She foresaw where he was going with it.
"They would have to remove - um, amputate my leg." He almost choked out the last few words.
Monica unconsciously laid her hand on the affected leg. "Is that what you want to do?"
Chandler bit his lip and shook his head. "No," he whispered leaning his forehead against hers. His voice began cracking as he spoke. "But more than that, I want to live. I want to be here with you, have kids with you -"
"Kids? But kids aren't an option."
"There's adoption. And I want that. I want to raise children with you. I want to grow old with you. And I think that's the best way to make sure that happens."
Monica slipped her arms around his neck. Tears ran tracks down both of her cheeks. "So have you made a decision then?"
Chandler began crying openly, and in his heart he knew that he had made his decision.
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The first surgery to remove the tumor from Chandler's lung went smoothly. Recovery time was minimal and several weeks later, save for the fading scars there was almost no indication that he had ever had surgery.
Radiation and chemo continued. Unfortunately, the last ditch effort to shrink the spot in his leg was unsuccessful. He was checking into the hospital today for that surgery.
Chandler limped down the apartment stairs. It had become increasingly painful to walk - so much so that the surgery would almost be a welcome relief.
Phoebe was pulling the cab up to the curb while Ross was struggling with the suitcase. Joey lagged behind. The enormity of this upcoming surgery was weighing heavily on him. His best friend was losing pieces of himself bit by bit. First a testicle, then a part of his lung, and now his leg. He didn't know how much more Chandler could endure, both physically and emotionally. And Joey felt ill-equipped to deal with it, as well. He could say he understood what Chandler was going through, but he couldn't - not really. He'd never had to go through anything one-tenth this difficult.
Chandler turned to see what was holding Joey up. He urged him on with a wave. Joey watched Ross stuff the bag into the trunk of the cab and then climb in beside the girls. He waited for Chandler to get settled before he got in.
Joey spent the silent car ride contemplating what he could do for his friend. Chandler had done so much for him over the years that it was impossible to repay him fully. The sad truth was, there wasn't a damn thing he could do, and that was the scariest feeling in the world.
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"I'm so glad your dad agreed to sit in on this surgery, Rach. It makes me feel a little better about this whole thing." Chandler gave her a one-handed hug.
Rachel leaned into the hug, placing a hand on his chest. "Anything we can do, sweetie. I mean that."
Chandler stared at the icy blue walls. The fluorescent lights were glaringly bright. Everything was cold and sterile. Even the smell was somehow cold and impersonal.
His friends's face reflected varying degrees of concern and pity. Joey in particular looked like he would be sick. Chandler had made peace with his decision. As much as he hated to lose that part of himself, losing his life was a more daunting scenario. He was convinced that this surgery would finally remove all traces of cancer from his body. He was doing it not for himself, but for Monica and the chance of a future together. "You guys can go, you know? The surgery isn't until first thing in the morning."
"We know. Just didn't have anything better to do," Ross shrugged, giving him a smirk. He threw the hospital attire over to Chandler. "Get dressed, dude." Chandler disappeared into the bathroom.
"How come Chandler's parents aren't here," Phoebe asked.
"I couldn't reach Charles. Apparently the show's on tour and I have no idea which city he's in. Nora is trying to get here, but she's been snowed in." Monica relayed all this information matter-of-factly.
"Snowed in?"
"She's in Switzerland." Monica did not elaborate as Chandler had emerged from the bathroom.
He did a little half-turn, modeling the hospital gown. "So what do you think? Sexy, huh?" He pretended to slick his hair back.
"See. Right there! That's why people think you're gay."
"What?"
"A straight guy doesn't sashay like that."
"Really Joe? Sashay?"
"What? Can't a straight guy watch Queer Eye For The Straight Guy?"
"And I'm gay?"
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Morning dawned slowly. Chandler hadn't slept at all. Nerves were only part of it. He snuck out of his room and walked the halls aimlessly. The destination wasn't important; it was the walking itself - something he undoubtedly would not be doing for quite some time.
He paused at the atrium and watched the sunrise. The quiet hospital signified the calm before the storm. Arms slid around his waist from behind. "Good morning, Mon."
Monica didn't ask how he knew it was her - it was the same way she would know it was him. His touch, his smell, the sound of his breathing - she knew every little nuance instinctively. "Mmm. Morning, baby. Did you sleep at all?"
"Uh-uh. Just did some walking and thinking." Chandler didn't elaborate; there was no need. Instead, he was content to be in Monica's arms.
He enjoyed the moment as much as he could, but a quick side glance to the clock on the wall broke the moment. In a few minutes he would be taken down for surgery. Taking Monica by the hand, he gently led her down the hallway. "God, you're beautiful. I love you so much."
She stopped in the middle of the now-bustling hall. Her chin quivered slightly at the sentiment. "I love you too. You are amazing. You have been so strong these past months. I don't know how you do it."
"Mon, you've been by my side going through all of this with me. It is your strength that keeps me going."
Their private moment was broken up by Dr. Green. "Chandler, we've formed a search party. It's time to go, son."
"Right. Sorry." Rachel's father gave him a pat on the shoulder to counteract the harsh tone. He turned to Monica. "This is it."
She cocked her head a little and he caught the glint in her eye. "Um, break a leg?"
"Very funny," he chuckled. "I'll dream of you." Chandler let his lips linger on hers for a little longer before climbing onto the gurney.
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Chandler came back to consciousness with a deep, nagging feeling in his right foot. He stretched and reached but couldn't locate the source. His hands kept closing on emptiness.
His brain finally caught up to his body. The fact that he no longer had a right leg was beginning to sink in. Without opening his eyes he slid a hand underneath the blankets and found his thigh. It was only a short distance to find where the leg stopped.
Chandler wasn't sure how he felt now that the surgery was actually done. Depression wasn't the right word. Ambivalence? Maybe denial.
He dared to open his eyes. The lights were blinding and the 'pinging' and hissing of the machines was unbearable. Where was he? This was different than the first two surgeries.
There was something hard and not quite right near his mouth. His hand reached up to find it, but a hand gripped his and guided it back to the bed.
Tired. He was so tired. His eyelids grew heavy and he soon lost the fight against sleep.
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Monica grabbed his hand before it reached the ET tube. She didn't want Chandler to panic and try to pull it out. It was a relief to see his eyes open, if only briefly. Several days had passed since the surgery. Complications had arisen and he hadn't properly woken up. The doctor said it wasn't a coma, but she wasn't so sure. Now they were fearing pneumonia was setting in. A fever had developed overnight and he was put on iv antibiotics.
Her eyes landed on the abrupt flattening of the blanket on the right side. The goods news was that the cancer appeared to be completely eradicated. He would undergo additional chemo just to be sure. But the flatness of the sheet left Monica bereft. Chandler had been dealt a lot of bad cards in life, but this took the cake. How he maintained a positive, if somewhat cynical attitude, she'd never know. She wondered if he would face this with the same aplomb he was accustomed to doing.
Monica knew in her heart that he would pull through this, but there would be many difficult days ahead. Once his incision healed, Chandler would essentially have to learn to walk again on a new leg. And there would still be the constant anxiety accompanying the checkups he had to undergo. Was the cancer really gone, or was it lurking in another surprise, hidden location? But she would be by his side during it all. And glancing around the room at their four wonderful friends, she knew that they had all the support that they needed.
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Chandler spent two arduous weeks in the hospital fighting infection. The doctors finally agreed to let him go home, but he would have to have a home health nurse come in to help administer iv antibiotics for several more weeks. The chemo would be delayed until the infection was gone.
That was only part of his foul mood. Navigating the steps up to the apartment proved to be a treacherous exercise - and painful. There was no elevator so the wheelchair wasn't an option. Crutches were his only alternative.
Finally, he made it inside and plopped down on the couch. He scrunched up his face in pain. Every little movement seemed to elicit that response. Monica wordlessly handed him a glass of water and a pain pill. Chandler accepted them gratefully.
He reclined back on the couch and attempted to adjust his position sparking off another burst of pain. Monica lifted what was left of his leg up gingerly and placed a pillow underneath. Chandler flinched from her touch - not out of pain, but of humiliation.
The next couple of weeks brought similar instances. Chandler refused to go out at all. He cited his mobility as the reason, but they all knew that was only part of it. Chandler was forever insecure about everything. No amount of talking would convince him that he wasn't inadequate.
Joey decided it was time for some tough love. "Come on, man. It's Ross's birthday. We should all go out to a nice dinner."
"Happy birthday, Ross. But no."
"Whyyyy," Joey whined.
"Joe, I don't wanna get into this again."
"Chan, the antibiotics are finished. You don't start chemo until next week. The pain's under control now. Give me one good reason."
Chandler's face reddened. "How about that or this?" He gestured to the wheelchair and his leg respectively
.Joey's eyes blazed. The other four watched, curious on how it would play out. Joey stormed over and grabbed the crutches. He thrust them out towards Chandler. "Here. Take them. Get up!"
"No!"
"I want to show you something." When he saw Chandler not moving, he scooped him up and moved towards the door. There was a collective gasp from the group. "Joey!" "Oh my God!"
"Put me down, dammit!" Joey continued as if he hadn't heard him. They stopped in the corner of the building. "Oh, what a great view," he said sarcastically.
"Just push the button."
Chandler pushed the button angrily and something hummed to life. Doors opened and Joey, still carrying him, entered. "Push G."
"It's an elevator?" Joey nodded. "But how?"
"Treager. He had old plans of the building and knew this was behind the wall. He had some company come out and dig it out and service it while you were in the hospital."
"But why?"
"Don't you get it, Chandler? Treager did it for you...well, and for all of us."
Chandler's demeanor changed drastically. "That's incredible."
"See, we all want to help you. There are other people out there that would do the same thing. No one's going to judge you, except you. Chan, please go out to dinner with all of us."
Chandler studied his surroundings. He was touched that the building maintenance man did this. He didn't even know that Treager knew who he was. It certainly solved the mobility problem. Maybe Joey was right; maybe dinner wouldn't be so bad. The table would hide everything anyway.
"Okay. But before we go I have to make another stop."
"Sure, where?"
"I oughta thank Mr. Treager."
Yeah, we all should, thought Joey.
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Getting dressed was turning into a fiasco. After reassuring Monica he was fine about a hundred times, he nearly fell over trying to tie his shoes - well, shoe. "Wow, you look amazing," he complimented as Monica emerged from the bathroom. She did a little curtsy in response. "I take it you're ready then?"
"Ready when you are."
"That could take awhile."
"C'mon. You have to go out in public sooner or later. And we're all gonna be there. Besides, if anyone looks at you cross-eyed Phoebe'll kick their ass."
"Yeah, I am kind of a bad-ass, aren't I?" Phoebe got in a fighting stance which elicited a smirk from Chandler. "Alright. Let's go.Yay!"
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"Joey, our arms are getting tired. Couldja hurry it up a little," Rachel prompted.
"I just wanted to make a toast," Joey whined.
"I'll do it." Joey looked disappointed at Ross's offer and began to pout.
"Oh for God's sake, Ross. Let Joey do it or he'll sulk all night."
Joey smiled at Chandler and then turned and stuck out his tongue at Ross. He raised his glass again, and the others followed suit. "To coming to the end of a long journey. It's been a sucky year. Here's to bigger and better things in the future." He raised his glass slightly higher in Chandler's direction. Chandler returned the gesture. "Oh, and happy birthday, Ross."
The conversation was light throughout the evening. Chandler was secretly glad to be out, despite all the fuss he put up. He had been cooped up for the last several months. This dinner gave him that sense of normalcy that he had been craving for some time. A couple of weeks from now all this would be behind him. But he was left with reminders that he would carry with him the rest of his life.
He felt the depression trying to pry its way into his psyche. He quickly pushed it aside. Tomorrow he was getting fitted for the prosthesis, and today he was surrounded by his friends, celebrating life.
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The plaster had been hot and itchy and he was glad to be rid of it. It would take a couple of weeks for the prosthesis to be made and then it would have to be fitted. Then would come the humiliating task of learning to walk on it.
Physical therapy was next. He didn't really understand it, but it had something to do with keeping his leg muscle strong. And after all that would be chemo. He felt the exhaustion creeping in already.
Joey had volunteered to come today. He said he thought it would be cool to see how the prosthesis was made, but he was disappointed when he found out that wasn't what was being done today.
In Chandler's mind, Joey had wanted to come to be with him. That was fine with him. Chandler couldn't explain it, but he felt most at ease with Joey. The others had never made him feel uncomfortable intentionally, but still he felt the stares and looks of pity.
He was self-conscious around Monica most of all. He knew that shouldn't be the case. She was his wife. But she was also the woman that saw him naked, all scars exposed. Chandler had never been exactly secure about his body, but now he was downright ashamed. Monica tried to reassure him over and over. He wanted to believe her so badly, and on some deeper level he did. He knew it was his own issue that he needed to work through.
"Hey, Chandler. I'm gonna go get something to eat while you're busy with this," he indicated the room with all the equipment in it. "You want me to bring you something back?"
"No thanks, Joe," he declined. Chandler was a little hungry, but with chemo coming up next, he knew he'd just throw it up anyway.
Joey gave him a look that said, 'you need to eat.' But Chandler ignored it. Joey left without another word.
When Joey returned 45 minutes later fully satiated, Chandler was shaky and dripping with sweat. Joey took in his friend's tremulous appearance. "Hard work out, huh?"
"Physical therapy? More like physical torture," Chandler exclaimed angrily. In truth, he was mad at himself. He didn't realize how weak he had gotten until he was forced to undergo physical exertion. He would never admit it, but he was glad that Monica had insisted he bring the wheelchair today. She must have known how hard this day would be on him without coming right out and saying it.
"So where do we go from here?" Joey looked around the hallway confused.
Chandler directed him and leaned his head back still panting slightly. Joey took control of the wheelchair without being asked. Chandler didn't object because he doubted he could get very far on arms of rubber.
"Joey Tribbiani's chauffeur service at you service. Don't get too used to this." Joey stopped in the middle of the hallway and Chandler twisted around to face him. Joey leaned down and whispered in his ear. "It's almost over. You'll be on your feet again in no time. You won't need me anymore."
Joey resumed walking. Chandler appreciated the sentiment, but he knew he would never stop needing Joey.
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Chandler's friend was helping him get settled in the chair when Andi walked in. Although she tried to mask it, she was taken aback at the site of Chandler. He hadn't been to the treatment center for chemo in a couple of months. She read his chart so she knew the story. But reading it and seeing it were two different things.
As a nurse you weren't supposed to get attached to patients, but if you are at all human, it is inevitable. She quickly hooked him up and made some excuse about forgetting a medication (which she happened to have in her pocket).
Andi barely made it to the medication room before she broke down. Maybe she should switch fields or something. Her heart literally ached for someone like Chandler who was so young and going through so much. Yet, he always had a smile or a joke. He did have great friends, though.
His friend Joey was so good to him. One could tell they had a super close relationship. In a way, she was jealous. She wished she had someone like that.
Andi brushed away the tears and made her way back down the hall, syringe in hand. "Sorry about that. I must be having an off day or something."
Chandler grunted. "You wanna compare days?"
Joey cut him off. "Please, do not get him started."
Andi crossed her arms. "Okay, you win. So other than today, how have you been?" Did she really just ask that? She could guess how he was. "It's been a couple of months," she lamely finished.
"It's been a rough few months," he admitted casting a sideways glance at Joey. He didn't elaborate and she didn't push him. "But...this should be the last cycle. The doctor says they got it all this time. He better have," he added hurriedly glancing down at his right leg.
It might've sounded bitter coming from someone else. But Chandler cracked a wry smile that showed he was just stating the facts.
"Well, I'll miss you and all your friends. But I will be happy to see you go if you know what I mean." She left without waiting for a response.
Joey tapped Chandler on the arm. "Dude, she's hot."
"Joe..."
"No, I mean it. She's smart and cool. Maybe when this is all over I could ask her out?" Joey gave Chandler the puppy dog face.
"I don't own her. She's is pretty great though. Why not?"
"Yeah baby!"
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"Look Joe, no hands!" Chandler was completely vertical for the first time in ages, and it felt wonderful. He wiggled his fingers in the air to illustrate his point. Joey gave him a smile and a thumbs up.
Chandler took a step, but stumbled. "Easy there. No marathons yet," the physical therapist warned.
He looked down sheepishly and placed his hands on the parallel bars. He took another tentative step forward. This time he was successful.
The physical therapist smiled. "That's it for today. Keep using those crutches."
"You're doing great, man. You wanna walk up to Dr. Marshall's office?"
"Sure. I feel great."
The pair made their way up to the doctor's office. Chandler had an appointment to discuss yet more results. Normally he would be nervous, but he just couldn't put himself through that again.
Joey waited outside while Chandler talked with the doctor. Joey was nervous for Chandler. There had been so much bad news that it was about time his luck changed. He paced back and forth waiting for Chandler to come out of the little office.
Finally, the door to the office opened slowly, and Chandler emerged.
TBC
I know it just wrong of me to stop there...but I will try to update soon
okay, I know you are wondering how Richard would have those supplies being an eye doctor. We'll just pretend he works in an eye surgery center alongside surgeons. There are places that exist like that. I know it's a stretch, but... :)
