What Can I Do?
There is no handbook for what to do when someone you know becomes seriously ill. As a result, we find ourselves fumbling and stumbling, or worse -doing nothing- in situations where we really DO want to be helpful and compassionate to those who need us.
I recently received a list of do's and dont's from a mother whose child has osteosarcoma. Even having had cancer, and been in the unfortunate, unfamiliar and uncomfortable position of needing help and hope, this list was a revelation. It is a handy list to guide one through the emotional forest of uncertainty.
I need to preface this list by saying that during my treatment, I felt incredibly, unexpectedly overwhelmed by love, prayers and treats of every kind. I never felt alone. There are friends, strangers, acquaintances and family members that held my hand and heart and gave me hope. My family was uplifted and touched by the kindness of friends and strangers literally every day.
On the flip side, there are friends and family that I believed would always be there for me (and I for them) that are shockingly, sadly, completely absent. A far-to-common side-effect of having a bummer disease, I guess. I try not to think about that. Focusing on those who are NOT there is to dishonor those who ARE there to share the ugly, depressing and sobering reality that is yours.
I think the author of this list is Bruce Feiler who was also diagnosed with Osteosarcoma at age 43. He is the bestselling author of "Walking the Bible" and "Council of Dads" among many other bestselling books:
_________________________________________
THE DONT'S
1. WHAT CAN I DO TO HELP? Most patients I know grow to hate this ubiquitous, if heartfelt question because it puts the burden back on them. As Doug Ulman, the chief executive of Livestrong and a three-time cancer survivor, explained: “The patient is never going to tell you. They don’t want to feel vulnerable.” Instead, just do something for the patient. And the more mundane the better, because those are the tasks that add up. Want to be really helpful? Clean out my fridge, replace my light bulbs, unpot my dead plants, change my oil.
2. MY THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS ARE WITH YOU. In my experience, some people think about you, which is nice. Others pray for you, which is equally comforting. But the majority of people who say they’re sending “thoughts and prayers” are just falling back on a mindless cliché. It’s time to retire this hackneyed expression to the final resting place of platitudes, alongside “I’m stepping down to spend more time with my family,” or “It’s not you, it’s me.”
**PS - I will take the prayers all day every and any day!**
3. DID YOU TRY THAT MANGO COLONIC I RECOMMENDED? I was stunned by the number of friends and strangers alike who inundated me with tips for miracle tonics, Chinese herbs or Swedish visualization exercises. At times, my in-box was like a Grand Ole Opry lineup of 1940s Appalachian black-magic potions. “If you put tumeric under your fingernails, and pepper on your neck, and take a grapefruit shower, you’ll feel better. It cured my Uncle Louie.” Even worse, the recommenders follow up! Jennifer Goodman Linn, a former marketing executive who’s survived seven recurrences of a sarcoma and is compiling a book, “I Know You Mean Well, but ...,” was approached recently at a store. “You don’t know me, but you’re friends with my wife,” the man said, before asking Ms. Linn why she wasn’t wearing the kabbalah bracelet they bought her in Israel.
4. EVERYTHING WILL BE O.K. Unsure what to say, many well-wishers fall back on chirpy feel-goodisms. But these banalities are more often designed to allay the fears of the caregiver than those of the patient. As one friend who recently had brain surgery complained: “I got a lot of ‘chin ups,’ ‘you’re going to get better.’ I kept thinking: You haven’t seen the scans. That’s not what the doctor is saying.” The simple truth is, unless you’re a medical professional, resist playing Nostradamus.
THE DO'S
1. DON’T WRITE ME BACK. All patients get overwhelmed with the burden of keeping everyone informed, coddled and feeling appreciated. Social networking, while offering some relief, often increases the expectation of round-the-clock updates.
To get around this problem, I appointed a “minister of information,” whose job it was to disseminate news, deflect queries and generally be polite when I didn’t have the energy or inclination to be. But you can do your part, too: If you do drop off a fruitcake or take the dog for a walk, insist the patient not write you a thank-you note. Chicken soup is not a wedding gift; it shouldn’t come with added stress.
2. WOULD YOU LIKE SOME GOSSIP? One surefire tip: a slight change of topic goes a long way. Patients are often sick of talking about their illness. We have to do that with our doctors, nurses and insurance henchmen. By all means, follow the lead of the individual, but sometimes ignoring the elephant in the room is just the right medicine. Even someone recovering from surgery has an opinion about the starlet’s affair, the underdog in the playoffs or the big election around the corner.
3. I LOVE YOU. When all else fails, simple, direct emotion is the most powerful gift you can give a loved one going through pain. It doesn’t need to be ornamented. It just needs to be real. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.” “I hate to see you suffer.” “You mean a lot to me.” The fact that so few of us do this makes it even more meaningful.
____________
My best advice is to err on the side of love. Show up, call, send a note, a casserole, or walk the dog. The best antidote to cancer is hope. To be there for someone and give them hope at a time when they need you most is truly divine. Thank you for being there for me.
I recently received a list of do's and dont's from a mother whose child has osteosarcoma. Even having had cancer, and been in the unfortunate, unfamiliar and uncomfortable position of needing help and hope, this list was a revelation. It is a handy list to guide one through the emotional forest of uncertainty.
I need to preface this list by saying that during my treatment, I felt incredibly, unexpectedly overwhelmed by love, prayers and treats of every kind. I never felt alone. There are friends, strangers, acquaintances and family members that held my hand and heart and gave me hope. My family was uplifted and touched by the kindness of friends and strangers literally every day.
On the flip side, there are friends and family that I believed would always be there for me (and I for them) that are shockingly, sadly, completely absent. A far-to-common side-effect of having a bummer disease, I guess. I try not to think about that. Focusing on those who are NOT there is to dishonor those who ARE there to share the ugly, depressing and sobering reality that is yours.
I think the author of this list is Bruce Feiler who was also diagnosed with Osteosarcoma at age 43. He is the bestselling author of "Walking the Bible" and "Council of Dads" among many other bestselling books:
_________________________________________
THE DONT'S
1. WHAT CAN I DO TO HELP? Most patients I know grow to hate this ubiquitous, if heartfelt question because it puts the burden back on them. As Doug Ulman, the chief executive of Livestrong and a three-time cancer survivor, explained: “The patient is never going to tell you. They don’t want to feel vulnerable.” Instead, just do something for the patient. And the more mundane the better, because those are the tasks that add up. Want to be really helpful? Clean out my fridge, replace my light bulbs, unpot my dead plants, change my oil.
2. MY THOUGHTS AND PRAYERS ARE WITH YOU. In my experience, some people think about you, which is nice. Others pray for you, which is equally comforting. But the majority of people who say they’re sending “thoughts and prayers” are just falling back on a mindless cliché. It’s time to retire this hackneyed expression to the final resting place of platitudes, alongside “I’m stepping down to spend more time with my family,” or “It’s not you, it’s me.”
**PS - I will take the prayers all day every and any day!**
3. DID YOU TRY THAT MANGO COLONIC I RECOMMENDED? I was stunned by the number of friends and strangers alike who inundated me with tips for miracle tonics, Chinese herbs or Swedish visualization exercises. At times, my in-box was like a Grand Ole Opry lineup of 1940s Appalachian black-magic potions. “If you put tumeric under your fingernails, and pepper on your neck, and take a grapefruit shower, you’ll feel better. It cured my Uncle Louie.” Even worse, the recommenders follow up! Jennifer Goodman Linn, a former marketing executive who’s survived seven recurrences of a sarcoma and is compiling a book, “I Know You Mean Well, but ...,” was approached recently at a store. “You don’t know me, but you’re friends with my wife,” the man said, before asking Ms. Linn why she wasn’t wearing the kabbalah bracelet they bought her in Israel.
4. EVERYTHING WILL BE O.K. Unsure what to say, many well-wishers fall back on chirpy feel-goodisms. But these banalities are more often designed to allay the fears of the caregiver than those of the patient. As one friend who recently had brain surgery complained: “I got a lot of ‘chin ups,’ ‘you’re going to get better.’ I kept thinking: You haven’t seen the scans. That’s not what the doctor is saying.” The simple truth is, unless you’re a medical professional, resist playing Nostradamus.
THE DO'S
1. DON’T WRITE ME BACK. All patients get overwhelmed with the burden of keeping everyone informed, coddled and feeling appreciated. Social networking, while offering some relief, often increases the expectation of round-the-clock updates.
To get around this problem, I appointed a “minister of information,” whose job it was to disseminate news, deflect queries and generally be polite when I didn’t have the energy or inclination to be. But you can do your part, too: If you do drop off a fruitcake or take the dog for a walk, insist the patient not write you a thank-you note. Chicken soup is not a wedding gift; it shouldn’t come with added stress.
2. WOULD YOU LIKE SOME GOSSIP? One surefire tip: a slight change of topic goes a long way. Patients are often sick of talking about their illness. We have to do that with our doctors, nurses and insurance henchmen. By all means, follow the lead of the individual, but sometimes ignoring the elephant in the room is just the right medicine. Even someone recovering from surgery has an opinion about the starlet’s affair, the underdog in the playoffs or the big election around the corner.
3. I LOVE YOU. When all else fails, simple, direct emotion is the most powerful gift you can give a loved one going through pain. It doesn’t need to be ornamented. It just needs to be real. “I’m sorry you have to go through this.” “I hate to see you suffer.” “You mean a lot to me.” The fact that so few of us do this makes it even more meaningful.
____________
My best advice is to err on the side of love. Show up, call, send a note, a casserole, or walk the dog. The best antidote to cancer is hope. To be there for someone and give them hope at a time when they need you most is truly divine. Thank you for being there for me.
Comments
Post a Comment