We all need that friend who’s willing to sit by our side at the hospital or visit us at home when we’re taking care of a loved one.
A friend once told me that she no longer visits a family member with Alzheimer’s because “it’s too hard on him not to remember me.” While there may be truth to this statement, I’m guessing it’s harder on her not to be remembered. Death and illness bring on a slew of negative feelings—sadness, fear, guilt, discomfort—and it’s not always easy to be a good friend with all those emotions going on inside.
One of the reasons I fell in love with my husband was his ability to face uncomfortable situations—especially illness and death—head on. When Steve’s mother was dying of cancer 20 years ago, he was one of her caregivers, taking turns doing overnight shifts with his aunts and siblings. When an old friend was at MGH undergoing cancer treatments, he dragged me along for a visit (even though we’d never met). Our son went to three funerals and a shiva in just his first month of life because “babies are good for funerals,” my husband said.
Before Steve, I admit I approached death and illness a little differently. “People need their privacy,” I’d argue. “He’s probably overwhelmed by visitors,” I’d say. “I’ll send a nice note but skip the funeral—they probably won’t even notice,” I’d tell myself. I now realize I was making these excuses more for myself than for others, and while I thought I was a good friend in sickness and in health, I wasn’t always.
Nothing is as isolating as illness can be—both for the patient and the person taking care of them. This is especially true with many of the illnesses we see in our business—Alzheimer’s, stroke, Parkinson’s, for example. A husband has a stroke, and a once-active couple stops socializing. A mom gets Alzheimer’s, and her son visits less often.
Being the primary caregiver for a sick or aging loved one can be a lonely endeavor. When one person in a couple is sick, both people suffer from isolation. You entertain less, stop going out, and often lose friends (or see a lot less of them) as a result. That’s why one of the best things you can do to be a good friend to someone taking care of a sick loved one is just be there. Visit them, eat a meal, share a laugh.
With almost every one of our clients, we can guess when they’ve had a visitor that day without them even telling us. They’ll be a little cheerier, try a little harder at therapy—talk more, walk more, eat better. You can tell they’ve seen a glimpse of who they once were—and they’ll work harder in every way to maintain that feeling.
If you’ve ever held a funeral for a loved one, you know that you do indeed remember every single person who attends—especially the least expected. The same is true if you’ve taken care of a sick family member. You remember every person who visits, cooks, and stands by your side. If you’re someone like I used to be—someone who skips funerals and visits because they make you uncomfortable, stop skipping and start going. I promise the discomfort you feel on the first couple of visits will be far less than the guilt that gnaws at you for not going.
Also published in The Swampscott Reporter.
Molly Rowe owns FirstLight Home Care with her husband, Steve, and lives in Swampscott with their two sons. FirstLight provides non-medical in-home care to adults in Swampscott, Marblehead, Lynn, Salem, Peabody, Danvers, Beverly, and Lynnfield. For more information and help caring for your loved ones in the comfort of their own homes, please visit FirstLight’s website at www.salem.firstlighthomecare.com or contact Molly at 781-691-5755/mrowe@firstlighthomecare.com