Being There: A Covenant

Recently someone posted a comment, or rather a plea, on CarePages' emotional health discussion forum, and it both broke my heart and inspired great hope. Here’s an excerpt of what the poster wrote:

“i have so many medical problems an have been so hurt recently an asked friends to support me an they havent. I. . .cry from the emotional pain that someone caused me. hurts when people say will be here for me. . .an they dont come. i. . .feel betrayed.”

What was hopeful were the loving, heartfelt comments and support this community offered; what angered and deeply saddened me was, of course, that this person’s friends failed to follow through.

When people say they’ll be there for you, especially when you’re traumatized and rendered vulnerable, raw, and hypersensitive by illness or disease, it’s like a covenant, a sacred agreement. Friends should not offer to be there unless they know that they will be able to do so, and make helping a priority.

When I had cancer, I remember a neighbor asking me to call if I needed anything at all. I felt kind of strange about it, because I didn’t know her well, but after my surgery, when I was back on my feet, literally, but still wobbly in terms of re-entering the “normal” world – which was now a completely new and foreign “normal” – I emailed her one day and asked her if she could bring me some groceries.

She wrote back saying she was too busy that day and that she was sorry. I remember feeling devastated. Seems silly to me now, but it took so much for me to ask, and I had trusted that she would be there for me, so I felt both sad and somewhat embarrassed. I was depressed and frightened. I was not myself.

Last Fall, when my dear friend, Roxanne, was dying of cervical cancer and she, alone and without children, depended on her friends and neighbors to help her remain at home to live out her last days, we made sure we were there for her.

Almost completely without appetite, she suddenly had a hankering for sushi, which we brought her immediately. She wanted more. Problem was, she only liked uncolored pickled ginger, as opposed to the bright pink stuff that often accompanies sushi. Moreover, she only liked the packaged stuff that came in one certain kind of pre-packaged sushi. And there was never enough in there. We tried other undyed ginger, but none appealed to Rox.

So, even though I was extremely busy with caregiving and work, I managed to track down the special ginger she liked, all the way to LA, to the importer. I excitedly told Rox about it and was about to call and get some overnighted to us, when she lost her appetite for sushi.

It was anything but a waste of time, because I understood what it felt like to be dependent on others and know my friends cared enough to make sacrifices for me.

Please be there for people who are ill, especially if you have said you will. And please share this with others, because that’s the only way they’ll understand how vital it is to honor what is, in my mind, a covenant.

With thanks and always hope,
Lori
Producer • Editor • Author
www.LoriHope.com
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This post originally appeared on Lori's CarePages blog, "what helps. what hurts. what heals." To read more about how to support those who are ill, visit "What People with Cancer Want You to Know."