The tears of a clown

Yesterday was an extremely busy day for me. It was the first day since surgery that my husband and I had actually planned some outings. Although I didn't really feel up to it, I agreed to go because I knew it meant so much to him. The church we'd been a member of for many years was having it's 175th anniversary service and Phil really wanted to attend. I was hesitant about going because we'd have to travel an hour and a half to get to the church, but also, I hadn't seen any of my friends there since I'd had my breasts removed.

I began to get dressed for the service. I couldn't wear one of my "Sunday Go to Meeting" dresses because they were too itchy and scratchy against my bare skin. Since my prostheses were too weighty and cumbersome, I decided to go "flat and fabulous." In order to do that, I had to find something that was a "busy" print that could camouflage my chest. Digging through my closet, I found a nice leopard print, cotton, button down the front shirt, and a pair of black slacks. Surely those would look nice enough for the service and they'd give me something to hide behind.

After I'd gotten my clothes on, it was time for makeup. Before applying anything, I stood in front of the mirror looking at myself. I didn't like what I saw and I began to cry. I didn't cry very long because I knew I had to get ready and didn't want my face to be all swollen and puffy before the service. I pulled out my foundation and began to apply it. Slowly and gently, I massaged the 24 hour skin tone color into my face. As I did so, some of the sadness began to slide away. Next came a peachy colored blush. I definitely needed some color in my cheeks because without it, I was pale as a ghost.  Taking the makeup brush, I began to strike it against my cheekbones depositing a light, healthy shade of color. I looked in the mirror again. "That looks a little better," I said to myself. Next it was time for eye makeup. I wanted my eyes to look as natural as possible, so I chose a sandy brown and a dull pink color for the lids. After applying that, I pulled out my waterproof eye liner and trimmed my eyelids in black. I looked in the mirror again and realized, that makeup, just like the clothes, was going to give me great camouflage to hide my fears and feelings. I painted on waterproof mascara next, knowing I'd be crying again at some point in the day. (I didn't want to look like a raccoon like I always did when I cried without waterproof mascara.) The last thing I did was glide some lipstick across my lips. I stepped back to view the finished artwork. "It will do," I thought to myself.

The drive to the church was a long one. When we arrived, I told Phil I wanted to slip in the back door because I didn't want to be the center of attention. I knew many of my old friends would instantly hover around me asking all their caring questions. I was thankful when we walked through the back door and no one was there to greet us. I slipped into the restroom and took a few deep breaths. I looked in the mirror and saw a beautifully painted clown looking back at me. "On with the show..."

I walked into the sanctuary, and just as I'd thought, friends immediately started coming toward me. They were so happy to see me and were genuinely concerned about my health. I greeted each one politely and tried to answer their questions without going into too much detail. Soon, the organist began to play signaling the start of the service. I was thankful to be able to get into my pew and escape for a while.

The service was very informative as one of the deacons took time to read over highlights from the church's history. There were many things I hadn't realized about the church. It was the first church established in Stone Mountain in the year 1839, burned twice, and was rebuilt twice. Since its beginning, it had been a church that has been Bible based and focused on winning people for Christ. Though it's a small church, it's a loving and caring church that accepts people of all nationalities. After the history, the choir sang, and the preacher preached. Phil and I sat quietly reflecting on how faithful God has been to us through the years.When the service was over, we said our goodbyes and headed to the nursing home to visit my mother. It would be another thirty minute drive.

My arms were already very swollen and painful, I explained to my husband as we pulled into the parking lot of the nursing home. Walking ahead of him in the hallway, tears sliding down my face, I continued on to my mother's room. I had to get myself together. I didn't want her to see me crying. Dabbing at my eyes, I mustered up a big smile to greet her. She was surprised to see us and we had a very pleasant visit. It was one of her good days and she wasn't in a lot of pain. I was thankful for that. We stayed almost 2 hours, then left to visit my son on our way back home.

We arrived at my son's house around 3:30 p.m. I was really feeling tired but I wanted to visit with them. It had been several months since I'd seen my oldest grandsons and my daughter in law. The first part of the visit was spent catching up on events in their lives. I began to feel emotional at not being able to be a part of their lives like I'd been able to do in the past, so I excused myself to the restroom. Behind the closed door, I cried again. Glancing in the mirror, I saw a beautifully painted clown face. The face looking back at me looked happy on the outside, but underneath, there was a deep sadness. I remembered a skit I'd seen many years ago done by Red Skelton as he'd slowly put on a clown's makeup. In the skit, he portrayed a very sad and lonely man being transformed by various shades of color. Slowly, just as I'd done this morning, the sadness began to disappear as each consecutive layer of makeup was applied....but underneath all the grease paint, the sadness remained. That's exactly the way I felt at that moment. They had no idea I'd come into the bathroom to cry. I wasn't in there long enough to give them concern, and as I exited the bathroom, I had my "happy" face on again.

We had a long drive back home, so Phil and I ended the visit around 4:15 p.m. After making a few quick cell phone photos, we waved goodbye and left. In the car, I was so overwhelmed with emotion and pain. My arms were huge by now and were tight against my shirt sleeves. The lymphedema is worse late in the afternoon. I was sad to leave my family but glad to be on the way home where I could finally relax.

A friend of mine, who is also a Breast Cancer survivor, called to tell me she'd written a letter and wanted to read it to me. The letter she'd written was to her cancer. I know that seems strange, but to her it was very cathartic. As she read what she'd written, more tears tumbled down my beautifully made up face. It was a good thing I had on waterproof mascara! Every sentiment she shared in her letter was exactly what I felt in my heart. She was crying on the phone as she read the letter to me and I was crying with her. Phil, the solid rock that he is, just listened and kept on driving. 

Finally home, I changed into more comfortable clothes and then, went in to remove my makeup. Taking a makeup removal wipe, I swiped down one side of my face, removing all of the protective, smiling layer on that side. The mirror gave me a glimpse of both sadness and joy at the same time. One side of my face showed my true colors, and the other side showed what I wanted the world to see...happiness and joy...a huge, painted on smile. After removing all of my makeup, I felt relieved. I didn't have to hide at home. I didn't have to pretend that everything was okay.

I went into the living room and sat down with Phil. When I told him that today had been "too much" he shook his head in agreement. He knew I was exhausted both physically and emotionally. I shouldn't have planned so many things in one day. Before surgery, it wouldn't have been any problem to visit 3,4,5, or more stops in one day. Now, my energy level was at an all time low and my emotional level was at an all time high. Things that never bothered me before became huge and out of proportion now. Why was I so hypersensitive?

Taking the used makeup wipes, I held the layers of "face paint" in my hands. All the colors of joy and happiness lay there mingled with my emotional tears. I wadded them up and tossed them into the trash can. Today, I'd shed many tears. I'd hidden them from everyone except my husband. I'd been a beautiful clown with layers upon layers of makeup to hide behind. I wondered if Red Skelton's character, the clown, was ever truly happy without the makeup. Red Skelton, the person, was an extremely happy, loving person but he could transform into various stage characters with ease. I had learned to do this out of necessity through most of my life. I'd been a pro at hiding my feelings, but since cancer, it seemed I was having to do it more and more often.

I don't like hiding behind my makeup, but I do it to keep others protected from my true feelings. Until I am able to get a grip on this rollercoaster of emotion, I'll continue to apply those waterproof layers. The best thing about those layers, is that I can take them off whenever I choose. I don't have to hide behind them unless I need or want to do it. Makeup and grease paint...they are so similar and both of them hide the tears of a clown. Some days I'll need it and some days I won't, but I'm thankful it's available for the days that I do.

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