Fearing Our Sick Friends
Why do we avoid friends who are ill? Visiting them may be all the medicine they need.
Louise had been in the hospital. Now she was recuperating at home, a time when it is easy to be forgotten. My friend wife phoned her and said, "Let's have tea. It will only take fifteen or twenty minutes from your day. All you need to provide is a tea kettle where I can boil some water. I'll bring everything else." And they set a time.
My wife packed a basket with a teapot, teacups, tea bags, sweetener, cookies and napkins. When we arrived at the appointed time Louise's husband Jim answered the door. He already had a filled teapot whistling merrily on the stove. Louise was well enough to join us at the kitchen table, and conversation flowed easily as we unpacked the basket and set the table for our simple tea. It seemed more like a celebration than a sick call. Soon Louise began to tire, but she remembered we had said we would only stay fifteen or twenty minutes. We wiped the teacups dry with the paper towels we had brought, and repacked the basket. We joined hands for a brief prayer for Louise's continued healing, and after hugs we left. But not before Louise had thanked us saying, "You will never know how much this time has meant to me."
We all know we should do it. So why do we make excuses instead of visiting a friend who is sick? If you have ever felt this way, you are not alone. If the number one fear of Americans is public speaking, then fear of speaking to a sick or grieving friend must be a close second.
In preparing for this article I stopped by a large bookstore. I explained that I was writing an article on visiting friends who were sick and asked if the store had any books that might help me in my research. "No," replied the head of the book department, "but let me check the computer to be sure." After a brief search she confirmed that there was not a single book available. "But there needs to be," she blurted out. I was shocked by the intensity of her response. "My brother has been sick," she explained, "and his friends did not come to be with him. He died two weeks ago." The pain of her brother's death was still very real. But a hurt that was almost as deep was that his friends had abandoned him in the hour of his need.
Rabbi Harold Kushner wrote, "At some of the darkest moments of my life, some people I thought of as friends deserted me-some because they cared about me and it hurt them to see me in pain; others because I reminded them of their own vulnerability, and that was more than they could handle. But real friends overcame their discomfort, and came to sit with me. If they had no words to make me feel better, they sat in silence (much better than saying, 'You'll get over it', or 'It's not so bad; others have it worse') and I loved them for it." What should you do if you find that some subconscious feelings hinder you from visiting an ailing friend? The good news is that you don't need years of psychotherapy. This is the garden variety kind of problem that is often best cured by the Dr. Phil approach. He would likely tell you that you don't need to understand the roots of your problem. Just do it. Turn off the television and go visit.