The Power of Friends
Throughout our lives we relate to others, meet and make
friends on all the paths we walk; early friendships on the playground or at
parent-planned “play dates”, school friends from early day care programs
through high school, college and beyond.
“Friends” are those we invite to parties and sleepovers, visit beaches
and parks with our parents, meet at school and in the neighborhood. Friendships form the roots of our social
life, our networks and connecting links as we move from childhood to
adolescence to adulthood. All
friendships are unique, but there are some common features; likes and dislikes,
favorite games, similar interests in theatre or the arts, politics and sports,
school subjects and mostly a sense of safety:
friends “have our backs”; they are our supporters in times of danger or
stress and we can trust them to guide us if needed; to hold us up, or calm us
down but mostly to be there.
Beginning week three of my (very) slow recovery from ankle
and heel surgery, still in a cast, still unable to ambulate without my mostly
trusty roll-about I have had a lot of time to spare and spend. Living alone and limited to one floor with
tricky corners and turns, I’ve had more than enough time to reflect on the
power of friendship, the dance between friends of giving and taking, asking and
doing, following and guiding and mostly just being there. Friends call to check in and ask what they
can do to help; some remember a favorite food I usually purchase at one of our
many grocery outlets and call to ‘take an order.” Others stop by to delivery
the mail, or share fresh fruit from a local farmer’s market. The most helpful moments are the ones when a
friend calls to ask: What do you need?
What can I do?” I’ve found that this is the time for me to take stock of what I
do need, what I can do alone, and honestly ask for specific help. At first I felt uncomfortable making specific
requests, such as: could you wipe down the kitchen counter and put away dishes
in the dishwasher; or could you open that case of water and put a few bottles
in the frig. Some requests seemed too
personal, such as help with getting clean underwear from the upstairs bedroom,
doing a laundry and remaking my bed or shampooing my hair. What I have found is that I can and now do
make those requests with simple statements:
“Can you take a few
minutes and bring me something from upstairs: or “My hair feels so dry, could
you do a quick shampoo?”
One rule I learned early that has helped me a lot: I am usually very specific about what I ask
for, making sure it is comfortable and doable for the friend, and I am careful
to check when they visit how long they can stay. If I am clear that I need a
nap in an hour, say, or have someone coming later, the time lines for each visit
fall naturally in place. Likewise, its
helpful to clarify what a friend can, wants to do when visiting, and how long
they will stay.
The most satisfying times come when a friend joins me for a
meal, and we share stories about our past lives, decisions we made, how we got
to where we are today. At other times, a
friend will drop by with my favorite sandwich from the health food store,
grilled Portobello and eggplant, and other friends or neighbors stop by. In effect, I feel a bit like Dorothy Parker
at the Algonquin roundtable, listening, adding a thought or two, and enjoying
the stimulation and the support these visits provide.
I’ve got two weeks to go before the cast is removed, and
yes, I am chaffing at the bit, wanting to get out, to be more independent. Learning the art of patience is, for me,
harder than any other skill. I remember
back in the 1980’s when my Crohn’s disease acted up again and I was briefly
hospitalized. One morning I got out of
bed, washed up for the morning, and found myself simultaneously pressing one remote to put the TV on while the other
hand held a remote to raise the head board of the bed. Multi-tasking at 8am with nothing more to do
the whole day!
Today is Sunday: papers to read, crossword puzzles to
decipher, a friend bringing lunch to share.
Another day crossed off the calendar.
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