Intentions. We Prefer to Assume They’re Good…

A few weeks ago a fellow blogger who is living with terminal illness put up a post about things that people sometimes say to the dying (and their loved ones) that can come across as hurtful or upsetting. I’m not using the exact phrasing for reasons that might be become clear in few moments.

Dozens of examples were provided, and her readers added plenty more over the following days.

Although I could relate to many of the comments that patients had found upsetting, I had felt that perhaps the author might have embarrassed people who would recognize their own words. I’d discussed the blog post with a few friends, recognizing some phrases that had come out of my own mouth over my lifetime when speaking with ill friends and their families.

I had at no time ever meant to be insensitive, I just didn’t know what to say. Sometimes when I don’t know what to say, the wrong words come out. My friends shared that they’d had similar experiences over the years. I’m generalizing, but I’d say that in North America we’re not as comfortable addressing death and dying as some other cultures around the world.

Yes, in rare moments I do bite my tongue. And when it happens it’s almost always someone I don’t know well to whose words I took offence. I remind myself that the speaker was most certainly well intentioned and caring and I have no wish to let them know that the comment might have hurt a bit, or that it reminded me of something I don’t wish to be reminded of.

A few days ago however, something was written to my daughter that floored me. Someone from our past sent her an email with a request for her to do something to benefit the sender. No offer of help, no recognition of the struggles she’s going through. The request was prefaced with a phrase that deeply offended both of us. No, life is not treating her well. The sender should have a pretty good idea of how tough her life is right now in trying to balance getting an education with having a mother who is dying without a caregiver.  Not to mention all the other usual stuff than can crop up in a nineteen year old’s life.

Despite our best efforts to keep my daughter at school and me at home, something had to give. And it did over the last weeks. For the moment, that’s a private matter until we have more details sorted out.

The mother bear in me reared up. I told my daughter to forget the request, forget the email – just concentrate on the exam that she was stressing over. That I would look after the issue, and I did.

Let me just say that despite the fact that she and I both try to put on a brave face with a smile as much as we can, everyone may safely assume that our situation is pretty lousy at the best of times these days. This is really hard on so many fronts.

We appreciate the smiles, hugs and kind words. A lot. We appreciate the offers of help, we appreciate when we can share how we’re feeling. And also appreciate that sometimes we’d rather not talk about what’s going on and just want a pleasant diversion.

The next while will be even tougher as we face some difficult decisions, realities and consequences.  I won’t always be around to stand up for her, and frankly that truth hit me pretty darned hard across the face this week.