“If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know”

 

“If there is anything I can do for you, please let me know”

In the face of tragedy everyone utters this phrase. You say it to those closest to the tragedy, and you mean it. You mean it to a point. For example, if your wife throws you out, you can crash on my couch, that’s not a problem. But after a couple weeks, it becomes a problem. You have to know where that line is, and stay on the right side of that line. All this is fine to say, but there is no way to know where that line is. Not only does it change from person to person, but it also changes based on the persons mood. 

This is even more noticeable in a prolonged event. My wife was diagnosed with cancer, and was in active treatment literally for years. People rally around you when it happens but as the weeks turn to months y people naturally tend to move on. This is in no way a criticism, its human nature.

So while many people ask how to help, it is an impossible question to answer. If you ask how you can help, I will worry about asking for too much, and putting a strain on the relationship. And as time passes, it becomes harder and harder to ask.  Also, while you always appreciate any help you get, you fear it looks greedy to ask for more. The very last thing you want in this situation is to look ungrateful. I am after all very grateful for the generosity people have shown over the years. It is a powerful motive to just stay quiet.

It is frustrating; I know I could use help in any number of things, but I am not really all that good at delegating to begin with. Even when I can think of a concrete way someone can help, I am too worried about being a burden to ask.  

I bring this up, because a friend passed away earlier this week. Anna was a friend from our cancer support groups. I have been to dinner with her and her family quite a few times. Her husband Ian and I bonded over our mutual situations, and over a genuine love of beer. 

Ian and I are both parents of young children who have had to deal with the stress of having a spouse who has been sick for years. We both have had to re-explain things to our children as they grow up, and develop new fears and concerns regarding their mother’s illness. We both deal with the stress of juggling work and chaotic home life, as well as the hard truth that we will be the ones to outlive our spouses. 

 While I cannot know what he is going through now, I feel I at least have an understanding of the circumstances that brought him here. I do understand how he has anticipated this day for years now, and while I am sure dealing with it is very different than just the anticipation, I feel I should be in about as good of a place as anyone to provide comfort. 

So why can’t I think of anything to say other than asking if there is anything I can do to help? I know it is impossible to fix the situation, but as someone with a similar background there has to be something I can do or say that helps. But that’s not how stage four cancer works. It doesn’t impart wisdom, it takes. It doesn’t build your character or make you stronger or more confident. You don’t get a valuable lesson. It just takes.

And so it has taken Anna. And Ian, my heart breaks for you and your family. I’m writing this because I have found that writing is one of the few things that help me cope with the complex emotions left by cancers wake. I am writing this from my desk at work when I have spare moments. I am weeping quietly, hoping that those around me don’t notice (I’m sure they do, but they are polite enough to pretend they don’t). I’m not sure if I will post this, and even if I do, I don’t know if Ian will ever read it (he has enough on his plate). But if you are reading this Ian, I can’t imagine what you’re feeling, and I know I can’t, but if there is anything I can do to help, please let me know.