At midnight last night, a text message popped up on my iPad. “Are you awake? There’s a small problem”. I’m always awake at midnight, I quickly replied that I was indeed up.
Although I didn’t recognize the telephone number and no name had appeared, the country code was one that was familiar to me. Not because I’ve ever called it, it’s just one of those curious things I look up when I’m bored.
Code 66 is Thailand where my closest friend and her husband are vacationing, as they do every year for an extended stay. Normally we communicate over Skype, her cell phone or now Facetime, so I’m never left wondering who the caller might be. Except for this time.
A phone call followed a few minutes later, my friend was heading into surgery for an emergency appendectomy and wanted me to know that she wasn’t going to be available for our usual daily call and not to worry.
I was of course concerned for her care and comfort, having surgery far away from home offers added worries. She assured me that the facilities were perfectly acceptable and that she would be out of hospital within a couple of days. And even likely back to the beach soon after that.
Yet of course I worried. I don’t sleep much at night in the first place and my unoccupied mind had to be there with her in spirit.
I received a text message from her husband this morning that all went very well which certainly eased my mind. I’m sure she will indeed be back at the beach very soon, she’s a tough cookie having had her fair share of serious health issues to prove it.
She said something to me last night that many friends have said to me when going through health and personal challenges. “Sandy, it’s nothing compared to what you’re going through, please don’t worry”.
The only thing that made the worry for her any less was knowing that her husband was by her side, as he always is faithfully holding her hand. Even when his work has taken him thousands of miles away, he arranged as no small undertaking to come to her when she faced a serious health crisis several years ago. At that time she too said to me, Sandy – it’s nothing compared to what you’re going through. In fact she waited until the worst was well past before even telling me, knowing herself how difficult long distance worry can be.
This is never a contest between me and my friends about who is suffering more. I want to support my friends in any way I can when things are tough, I try to never diminish their pain or sadness in comparison to my own. Sadly I know that often they don’t share their own trials because they feel they’re not as tough as mine and feel bad about bringing them up.
What this episode did teach me last night was about how utterly helpless it’s possible to feel when someone you care about is facing a difficult challenge far away. My friends tell me how they struggle with these feelings, and I always tell them not to worry, that I’ll be okay. What I didn’t realize until last night was just how much further that worry can be compounded by the thought that they might doing it alone until I let myself imagine my friend by herself in a Thailand hospital.
For those of my friends who know S., I know you send your best wishes for her speedy recovery.
But honestly, this episode was a dose of reality for me on a number of fronts. Despite all the preparations, documentation, schedules of Personal Support Workers, visitors and planning for what happens when the more serious health episodes come along – I’m most often alone when the worst pain comes along. Maybe my friends do indeed have valid reason to worry, I shouldn’t be so quick to dismiss their concerns. But that opens the door to worrying about my own welfare and I don’t want to let myself go there. It’s often easier to dig my head in the sand when it comes to facing my own health challenges. In hindsight, I should have ensured that I had a friend with me for every radiation treatment, every appointment where bad news was anticipated, every difficult procedure. I made the decisions to not accept offers because I didn’t want to be a burden. I’m slowing learning that people who care about me feel better knowing that I’m not on my own, it helps them too.
The discussion comes up quite regularly whether trying to live here on my own is the best option, as each day passes I’m not entirely sure that it is.
An update on yesterday’s post about the wheelchair. A final measuring session happens on Monday, and hopefully the chair arrives fairly soon after that. So far, the front runner on my wish list for the first outing is a trip to Longo’s (a Toronto area grocery store) to see the produce display. Squeeze a lemon or two, pick out something delicious for a friend to cook up for me. Dreaming big!
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sorry to read about S and i hope she feels better soon. please pass along my best wishes for a speedy recovery (and i know she will read them here herself when she is able to also) :)
ReplyDeleteit's a difficult feeling to feel helpless from a far ... i often wish i were closer to you to help with the little things that come up (and i am much closer than thailand to you!)
you, my friend are ALWAYS on my mind and ALWAYS in my heart.
and i will be very pleased to take you out one day if you so desire ♥♥
Sandy,
ReplyDeleteI hope all this can become a book. You are a brilliant and interesting writer, and I know brilliance and interest when I see it.
I often say that when I (any of us)look around, it's pretty easy to see someone who has worse problems. I don't know what rock bottom is. Another friend replied that although she didn't dispute my idea, it didn't improve her life (and it's pretty damned good) any. It's her nature, she admits, to complain about fairly trivial things. She did get my point. I use that to give perspective. She didn't get the perspective. Sad. It lets the air out of her tires too often.