Musings on what to say to someone who is ill, etc...

Tough things happen to good people all the time. It comes with being human (and not the absolute master of the universe, unfortunately). In the face of those times, courage, compassion, and connection to understanding supporters are important resources. Bert Hellinger had a saying that basically went like this: “People come seeking comfort when what they really need is courage.” I find that maintaining a positive attitude and maintaining courage are holding me in good stead. And, I have access to excellent medical care and insurance. (Thank you, former President Obama!)

Having an illness is one thing. When you live a semi-public life as a teacher, having to talk to others about it is another critter all together. While I so appreciate the kind impulse that motivates people who care about me to want to express their caring and concern, there are varying degrees of effectiveness in how to go about this. During this recent episode, I’ve been doing an unplanned social experiment in how people react when you tell them you have a significant illness. What follows is a brief tongue-in-cheek summary of my research experiment, which I will title, What NOT to Say When Someone Tells You They Have an Illness/Accident/Need Surgery/Treatment/Will be off work for a while/etc.

1. Please do NOT say, “I'm so sorry." I think this one bothers me most, it is so common and so odd. What I hear when someone says this is, "I'm so sorry [for you, poor thing].” I am not broken nor any less of a human being than I was before this happened, and so not an unfortunate object of sorrow or pity. Nor did you do anything to cause this. Even though this is the standard response, it is an all-together odd, diminishing, and frankly rather dis-empowering experience to receive it, especially over and over.

What to say instead? My favorite response so far is Leslie Nips’ heartfelt, “Rats! What a bummer!” That sums it up pretty well and felt like genuine empathy rather than it's poor cousin, sympathy. Even a “Wow! That sounds tough.” is better than being the object of another person’s sorrow (or worse, pity), especially when they don't know you well. What is really stellar is when someone actually asks, “and how are you doing with that?” or “is there anything you need that I can offer?” (instead of assuming that I need to be "helped".)

2. Please do NOT volunteer all the horror stories you’ve heard (or lived through) that spring to your mind the instant your brain cells are jiggled by the name of the illness/accident/treatment/etc.

Yup! I do not need to know all about that in this moment. I’ve had enough shocks as it is. Please keep those delectably gory details to yourself. If that was you or a loved one who lived through that hell, that was tough, breathe, and please allow me to be separate from them. This is my unique journey.

3. Please refuse all visits from the “Angel of Unsolicited Advice” as one of my friends called it.

All those miracle cures you’ve heard of? If I ask for them, feel free to unload. If not, and especially if I have good confidence in my medical team and treatment choices, keep those stories of fabulous medical miracles locked, loaded, and … in reserve. I’ve made my choices and my confidence in the approach I’m taking is an important factor in my healing.

What to do instead of these common reactions?

If you’re just hearing about someone’s illness, the old reliable…

“How are you doing with that?”

“Is there anything you need that I can offer?”

“I’m available, please let me know if there is anything I can do for you.” (assuming you really mean it) …are great starting places and leave the ball in the other person’s court as to what they want to share or request.

If the person you are talking with says, “I’m fine.” and wants to talk about something else, for heavens sake, let them. You’ve made your offer, give them the grace to decline if that doesn’t suit them in this moment.

On parting, a kindly, “I'm thinking of you. Call me if there is anything I can do.” is also nice.

Well, that sums up the experimental results to date. I’m curious to hear from you what happens in that awkward moment of hearing bad news when you check the “I’m so sorry (for you)” response. What might you come up with instead?

Kind thoughts and genuine offers of support are, of course, always welcome.