May
24
No Timetable
I’ve learned through my many medical crises that even the best of friends seem to have a mental timetable for which you’re supposed to get over things. Break-ups, deaths, the loss of a loved one, cancer, a health crises; it doesn’t matter. “Hope you feel better soon!” “Speedy recovery!” These expressions are intended to convey the idea that “I hope your suffering will end soon.” Sometimes, however, it feels like pressure to be done with grieving or recovery or just plain not feeling well because that person is tired of worrying about you. When the husband of a friend died suddenly and unexpectedly a few years ago I told her, “I’m here to support you in any way that I can as you grieve this loss. Take as long as you need. I’m here. There’s no timetable.”
Life rarely operates on a timetable. Grieving or adjusting to a “new” normal is not linear. You’re going along thinking that you’re doing better and suddenly you’re in the grocery store and you hear a song or see something that reminds you of your loss. Then the bottom falls out of your day and you’re back where you were six months ago. Sometimes the best way to support a friend is to let her know that you’re in it for the long haul, no matter how long that might be.
yes. it's my real name. 
Thanks for posting this. A friend made it through “the first year” recently.
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I think that indirect pressure to be “better” actually prolongs the process because people internalize their loss and grief.
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Absolutely. For me it increased my feeling of being isolated in my recovery because I felt as though people were annoyed that I was still sick.
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You’ve described it so perfectly, those “grocery store moments.”
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Weeks, I have been enjoying your thoughts immensely and they give me something to think about through my day. I especially like the post about being a conversational ninja and giving ground to make the interaction more pleasant. But this one hits home particularly as I am pulling myself (and family) through anticipatory grief – we have found I am a BRCA2 carrier and my best choice for long term cancer prevention is lots of surgery before anything develops. The grief is strange and overwhelming and I can have weeks at a time feeling well and then back to bed with the covers over my head. Not a straight line at all.
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Oh Kim, I’m sorry to hear that you’re dealing with this grief right now. My entire 40s were totally spent dealing with medical issues, surgeries, endless testing and being bed-ridden 50% of every month. Losing time, productivity, energy and dreams is no small loss. I can offer two suggestions that have been helpful to me: one, therapy to cry it all out and reframe the way you approach the rest of your life give this diagnosis and two, an understanding that your biggest loss can be your greatest ministry. And I use the word ministry not in a strictly religious way but rather a deeper way to support and connect to others. I was able to write this post BECAUSE I have suffered so much loss in my life. If you just see loss as loss, it is just more loss. If you see loss as an opportunity to become more resilient, more compassionate and more selective about what matters to you, the loss then becomes an opportunity for good. I don’t mean this in a “all’s well that ends well” context but rather if you need to walk this difficult road, can you change your focus to not just focus on the suffering but also on the potential for your family to become stronger in knowing that you can make it through something really scary and come out the other side? Please let me know how I can support you because, although I didn’t have a say in the losses I’ve suffered, I have chosen to take those losses and use them to try to be a better friend.
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Weeks,
I have been thinking about your lovely response for a couple of days (unfortunately small kids and part time work make grabbing five minutes to respond a challenge). Your advice is much appreciated and I have been doing the first step you suggested for about 6 months via a lovely woman who looks after breast cancer patients and is very experienced in the type of issues we face. She is a wonderful sounding board and also very pragmatic – her best line is ‘anxious brains think rubbish!!’ which gives me permission to ignore alot of the churning my brain is doing about undiagnosed ovarian cancer. Your second piece of advice is more long term and I had thoughts of doing exactly that with my experiences. Yet to see what form that is taking but I am sure opportunities will present themselves.
I think the other thing that is so important for me right now is mindfulness/being present – and only doing one thing at a time. I think as mothers to young children we get used to doing 3 things at once, and right now my brain can’t handle it. Even down to things like finish making lunches and THEN cook dinner. Don’t do both at once. But is amazing I find myself having to reign myself in about 10 times an hour. I have also had to carve out a small amount of time to myself – no kids, no job, no chores – to give myself time to think. This works out to about 5 hours once a month (how I envy people with lives that allow long contemplation) but I make good use of it and even a small amount makes a difference.
I will be at the Brisbane evening lecture in a couple of weeks – I will come up and say hi if the evening allows.
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