Let Her Be

My friend is dying. Hopefully not tomorrow or even this year. But someday, the insidious disease that is eating away at her bones and her breath one cell at a time will get the best of her. It hasn’t yet. And I’m hopeful that instead of months, we still have years to enjoy. This lovely, brave woman gets up every morning and throws herself back into the battle, one agonizing day at a time. I am awestruck at the way she manages to move through her life with grace, focusing on what matters and leaving the bullshit behind. Her daily acts of struggle and courage humble me. This friend is me. She's actually my best friend.

But I’ve watched the women in my circle of friends envelop each other with kindness, laughter and unflinching support and I’ve seen the difference it has made in each of our lives. Most of the advice I have to give about being a supportive friend applies for the healthy and the terminally ill alike. It’s about cultivating a relationship and tending it with care and attention. It’s just that your relationship with someone who is terminally ill is a more difficult endeavor, requiring a defter hand. If you want your friendship to thrive despite challenges, you’ll have to invest in doing the things that keep you both strong and help you get the most out of your time together.

Leave Your Shit at Home

Please don’t mistake me. I am not insisting that you should be cheerful and avoid any discussion about yourself. That is NOT what we are going for here. But if you are feeling especially sad or upset about the situation your friend is in, get some support and clear your head before you visit. They have enough to deal with and they don’t need to worry about your shit, too. It’s okay to be sad. I’d be worried if you weren’t. And you should absolutely have someone you can talk to and lean on about it. But it shouldn’t be your friend. Reach out among your group or to a spouse and help each other cope, so when you do spend time together, it can be about being supportive and positive for your friend.

This also applies to people who think they’ve discovered the latest cure in their Facebook feed. Shut the fuck up. Unless you’re a doctor and the illness is your specialty, you’re not qualified. You can read up and attempt to understand more of what your friend is going through, but leave the diagnosis to the professionals.
If, on the other hand, you want to gab and get some advice about an unrelated situation, don’t hesitate. I remember I was chatting with my friend about a problem at home and before I knew it, I had been gabbing on and on about myself. I went to apologize but she stopped me. “It’s nice to hear about something else for a change,” she confessed. She said she gets tired of every conversation being about her and her illness. There’s still life to be lived and she doesn’t want her health to overshadow the joy of being present for it.

Let Her Be

I think sometimes we make the mistake of talking in clichés to people who are ill, as if we’re trying to give them some locker room half-time motivational speech. Stay strong, sister! Cancer this! Cancer that! We feel as if by remaining unfailingly positive that we’re bolstering them and preventing our friend from giving up in the face of something so overwhelming. And I get the good intentions behind that sentiment. But I worry we create a situation in which the terminally ill person feels they have to put on a brave face and rise to the occasion. That they have to meet your peppy enthusiasm with optimism or risk looking like a negative asshole.  I like to take a different approach.

In our group of friends, everyone has their unique way of stepping forward to offer support. One of the women is especially good at cracking jokes and her sarcastic one-liners often diffuse an emotional situation. Another is warmly affectionate and her motherly embraces hide a torrent of tears that fall suddenly and unexpectedly in public places. I like honesty. I try to listen and understand and whatever my friend is that day, so be it. I meet her where she is. I make clear that I don’t want her to leave things unsaid or hide her fear. Our circle of support is a safe place where she can be angry or afraid or exhausted without judgement or expectation. I don’t need her to be strong for me and if I sense she’s putting on her brave face, I try to take her aside and encourage her to drop it for a few moments. I find connection with her in quiet corners, where she lets her doubt spill out. I try to hold those doubts as gently as I would her hopes. I am honored by her trust and often, I don’t have a reassurance. Sometimes it seems like it’s enough just to give those terrible things voice so she can set them free.

Show Up

You’ve heard this before, but I’m gonna say it again. There’s nothing more powerful than this. Just be there. Even if you’re scared. Even if you don’t know what to say. Even if you’ve never done a damn thing like this before in your entire life. It’s okay. Guess what? She’s never been dying before, either. You’re all figuring it out as you go. Ask questions. Even if they’re stupid. You’ll be forgiven. Because you’re there. You’re showing up when it’s hard. There’s value in that and your friend will recognize it.

You don’t need to offer anything. Just listen. Extend a hand. And be there.

I get so frustrated when people tell me I'm being "brave." I certainly don't feel brave. I feel so useless most of the time, unable to do the simplest things without help. The only thing that still seems to work--at least sometimes--at my old level is my brain. But even there, I don't seem to have the patience, or the stamina, or whatever, to do any sustained work.

There are no answers to these questions. Why does it take so long to die? Why am I growing weaker so slowly? Why is every little thing such a struggle? Why can't I just go to sleep and not wake up?

People get upset when they hear me talking this way. I'm supposed to keep feeling "optimistic" and not give in to "depression," but I don't think these labels apply. To me, an "optimistic" outcome is one that will get me out of this limbo, and I am not depressed but am quite realistically evaluating my situation. I'm bored, and can distract myself only to a limited degree by reading or watching TV. I still enjoy visiting with people more than just about anything else.

I started hospice through Heart to Heart since really there is nothing more that can be done for my IPF. I'm going to do my best to make this a positive experience. On the bright side...no more trips to the ER, and I get my Dillauded.

I will try to start writing more often.

Love you all and truly mean it and God loves you too,

Shanna xoxo