What To Say, What To Do

Barbara: For today’s short post, and in honour of the current situation, I thought it would be appropriate to call back an earlier post that we did about cooking for people in times of trouble or need. We asked all of you to contribute your favourite recipes for offering and freezing, food that can sustain when no one feels like cooking, food that also tastes delicious.

It’s been my intention since we posted to catalogue all those recipes, giving each of you who contributed due credit (first names only if you prefer), and posting it to a stand-alone page in our side-bar. It could live there for any of us who might find ourselves suddenly on the “giving” end of life. If you posted a recipe but have any objection to being included by name, please let me know at radeckirites(at)gmail(dot)com (no worries!). In the meantime, please link here if you want to read the original article.

I also want to take this chance to give a shout-out to all of you who “never know what to say” in bad times and yet still venture a kind and loving word or two. I want to assure you that to a person in crisis every kind word is so very valued, appreciated, and needed. They may never be able to acknowledge it, they may not remember to, they may not have the words yet themselves, but in our experience (and, sadly, we’ve had a lot), literally every word of support and compassion makes its way into our hearts and helps with the heeling. This is definitely a “just do it” moment.

Here’s another fast and easy recipe I love. This soup is delicious and comforting, freezes well, and is super-easy to make. You can easily double or triple it.

Yummy lentil soup

4 cups chicken (or veggie) stock

2 cups coconut milk

1 tablespoon green or red curry paste

1 tbsp peanut oil (or any oil)

1 cup cooked green lentils (ie, canned)

6 lime leaves (found in Asian food stores), chopped thinly if fresh (you can freeze the extra leaves after), or whole if dried (then just pluck them out like bay leaves when done cooking)

Heat the oil, then add and heat the curry. Add stock, coconut milk, lentils and lime leaves. Gently heat until it comes to a light boil—10-30 minutes.

The lime leaves give a really lovely lemony flavour, but if you can’t find them, it’s fine without. You can also add fresh peas or snow peas or baby corn. Mmmm.

Spent

Deb: Mom is coming home. Monday. That was going to be the subject of my blog. Because I am rejoicing. We all are.

But...

I am also spent. We all are. You know how it is when a crisis winds down and you find yourself unable to move, peep or pontificate?

That is where I am at. Between a bed and a sleep place.

So I will take this time to say thank you. Thanks to each and every single one of you who reads the blog and comments, reads the blog and doesn’t, reads the blog on Facebook or reads the blog when it’s shared.

And to each of you who have reached out and made me feel packed in support, I thank you.  I really truly felt your love, advice and shared experiences coming at me at the speed of blog. And I took each comment to heart.

We are moving to the next phase, the one that opts us out of all the previous confusion and pain and sends us toward the optimistic future. And we have every reason for optimism.

Mom is coming home.

Barbara: Yay, Deb!!! Not that you’re spent, of course, but that your mom is going home. And that the village made sure she could get there. Wow. So impressive.

Okay, I have to make a call-out to our blog peeps now. I would like to send over some yummy easy food for Deb’s parents to heat up, but really have no awesome “casserole” recipes. I cook on order, in the moment. I go—yes, every day—to the store and get my supplies. I’m not and have never been good at the plan-ahead. Hence my dearth of good meals that can be made ahead and frozen. Maybe portioned-up for the 2-person meal.

If any of you have any great recipes you don’t mind sharing, I would be so very grateful!!

Love!

Stepping Up

Deb: There are times in your life when you need people. You may hate that you need them, but the current and present fact of your life is that you do. I am not an easy ask. I think I have mentioned that before. I decreed years ago that I would be always the bestower and never the bestowed. Asking for help is something I struggle with. But that rug has been pulled from under me of late. As it turns out, you don’t have to ask for help when the help arrives before you can muster the courage to ask.

When my Mom had her emergency almost a month ago now, I was a big pond away. My two “stepupsisters”, Cheryl and Mary, were all ready on it. In fact they discovered the severity of Mom’s condition and stepping up got the ball rolling and was ultimately responsible for saving my Mom’s leg. They moved swiftly with no questions asked. They just did what had to be done, pushing their own lives of laundry into literal and figurative baskets. They put the proverbial band-aid on the gunshot wound until the doctors could assess and scramble to help her.  And stood by her so she would be daughtered until I could get home.

Knowing they were stopping their own clocks to step up, I thought I better get the extended family involved simply to be there for my Mom and Dad in the form of visits or phone calls. So I called my cousin Scott. He and I grew up more like siblings than cousins. His Mom was my Mom’s only sister in a family of six kids and they were extremely close. We lived down the street from one another, shared the same schools, holidays and events. Scott is three weeks older than me and his twin boys are a month older than the boy. Our boys are close as well, to our everlasting joy.

Again, I was not looking forward to asking and again, I did not have to. Before I could finish the sentence regards Mom’s precarious circumstance, his plan was launched. He called key family members, got to the hospital, liaised with the doctors and nurses, picked up and delivered my Dad, cared for my Mom, made her laugh when she was scared and kept me informed every single step of the way until seconds before my plane took off from Heathrow.

That night he and his stepupsister wife Lorette were at the hospital. My Dad had already gone home when Scott and Mom were informed that they still might have to amputate.  Mom was clearly upset but resigned to doing what needed to be done to prevent the further spread of the gangrene. Scott texted me and I phoned my Dad from London to tell him, and he was devastated. I turned to Colin and I said, “It kills me that he is sitting along at home trying to come to terms with this information.” Just as the last words were out of my mouth, my text chime rang in with Scott’s words, “Hey, Lorette was just thinking that it is so awful that your Dad is sitting there alone with this news and wants to go over, make him tea and sit with him for a while. I’ll stay with your Mom. Is that okay?” Colin and I were sitting in the theatre when I got this text and I burst into grateful tears. Spent the whole first act trying to stifle my crying and part of the second act sleeping it off on Colin’s shoulder. It was awful when I realized I would have to wait a day to get out of London, but wonderful knowing I was being more than represented.

The next day when I landed in Toronto, I arrived to copious texts from Scott reporting important details, including the fact that they had done an angioplasty which might just save her leg. His diligence breathed hope into my panic for that trip from the airport to the hospital. A trip I did not have to take alone thanks to the third stepupsister, Barb, who was there as my shoulder and my chauffeur. Arriving in her hospital room was like showing up to a party. Cheryl had just gone home to tuck her daughter in, Mary was there, my brother Craig and his wife Jacquie, and Scott had just left knowing I was on my way.

In the days to come I would marvel at friends and parents of friends and cousins and uncles and aunts who more than stepped up with phone calls and visits and flowers, balloons and candy. Erica, the gal who cleans our homes, has been twice, our friend and dog walker Claude has been three times. All I have heard this last month is, “What can I do for you?”, “What do you need”, “What does your Mom need?”, “What does your Dad need?”  Also there have been the silent steps of people who just show up and visit or phone or bake or send cards, treats and balloons.

I can’t say that this really showed me who my friends are. I already knew them well in friend and family form. They are the people who step up. Now it’s my turn to step up with thanks. Rather than say, “They will never know what this has meant to my family,” ... I’ll make sure they do.

Barbara: Okay, out and out bawling now reading this. The step-ups are a remarkable bunch, aren’t they? I’ve known your cousin Scott from your get-togethers over the years, Deb, but my appreciation and admiration for him just skyrocketed.

And I will also say that Deb’s gratitude has absolutely spilled over in this time of need. I can’t tell you how often she has marvelled at the support you’ve extended her here on the blog, at the many hours her friends and extended family have spent visiting her Mom at the hospital, at the kindnesses bestowed all around.

You know what else impresses me—and this from visits to both your mom’s hospital and Nana’s—the step-ups in the medical system. We hear so much complaining abut indifferent or remiss healthcare (a situation I don’t doubt), that it’s worth a shout-out to those tireless men and women who bring their best selves to their job at the sickbeds. We notice you too. Your good humour, your patience, your respectful care. We bow to you. We thank you!


PS In honour of today's Remembrance Day––talk about stepping up––a sweet and beautiful video. Here's the explanation that goes with it:
A lone young Belgian boy is waiting to salute the Canadian troops passing by who had been attending a memorial service. Such class from our Canadian troops - watch what they do for this little boy. The "Eyes Right" command is the biggest compliment troops on parade can pay and is reserved for dignitaries in reviewing stands. Every now and then something just makes you smile!!!

The Helping Hands List

Barbara: On Deb’s Monday blog-post—her heartbreakingly beautiful tribute to a marriage through “worse”—Katie May gratefully acknowledged Sheila’s efforts and the example she was setting for her daughters, but also noted that: “One might think that her behaviour was ‘just natural,’ but believe me, it is not as common as one might assume.” It got me to thinking that sometimes we know what to do when our loved ones are going through tough times and sometimes we don’t.

So let’s powwow for a bit about what we think are the best ways—from a friendship point of view––to help each other when things are bad. (Yeah, I think it’s a rule that spouses and children do whatever they can for their ill loved ones, especially those on deathbeds. Doesn’t matter how hard it is. These are our peeps, our tribe. ‘Nuff said.}

So this is just a little suggested “bro/bra code”. Most of us aren’t called upon to help out our friends––to really be there––more than a few times a year. If times are really bad, maybe a month. And when you think of it that way, well then it’s just a handful of generosity within a whole world of it. We have it to give and it is the simplest thing, even if—for reasons I viscerally recognize but don't fully understand—we often think it is more than we can “handle”.

So while these might be painfully obvious to some, let’s offer some guidance to those for whom this is unfamiliar territory (for any reason from inexperience to self-consciousness). Some of the ways we can help each other get through the worst:

1)      *  When someone we know is struggling with a particularly hard slog, we can call and check in regularly.

2)        *  We can make a dinner. Or bring the baked goods. If we’re very well-organized or part of a bigger circle of friends, we can even time our dinners so they don’t all come on the same night (or we should make sure there’s room in the freezer if that’s where they will go). Our friend may not like our offering, they may not even get around to eating it, but even so, food is a balm and a comfort, and if it is eaten, it’s one less chore. (I once brought a few dinners to a neighbour whose mom had just died only to taste one of my usually reliable curry dishes AFTER THE FACT and realize it was actually kind of icky. Sigh. Although the pie––baked by my younger from scratch––was heavenly.)

3)      *   If we bring flowers, we could already vase and water them. When you’re exhausted, the last thing you want to do is unbundle and snip and search for stemware and … well, you get it… 


       *   We can ask our friend if there’s anything about their situation that confuses them. And if there is, we can make a few preliminary enquiries for them, or we can be there with them when some diagnosis is made or some directions are given so there are two sets of ears. 

5)       *   If news needs to be spread, be a list-maker of the need-to-knows. This is a relatively simple task but it’s often overlooked. Just like that good friend who somehow didn’t find out that your mom was in the hospital. Overlooking people makes the person who already feels bad feel even worse. Even if no one in this world would blame them.

6)      *   We shouldn’t forget that pain is incredibly cathartic—we will find ourselves laughing hysterically as often as we’re sobbing uncontrollably. Both are okay.

7)       *   If we really don’t know what to do for our friend, tell them and offer to do “whatever”. It usually depends on the friend. Some people have issues around accepting help (formerly guilty-as-charged, have since kicked that issue to the curb). We want to urge our friend to yield. Because it will be better for everyone (the giver and the givee).

8)        *  We shouldn’t be heroes. It’s not our time to shine. Fade into the background and be unobtrusive, gentle, kind.           

Add your own ideas to the list. Spread the word. We only have each other for better and for worse and no gesture will go unappreciated (even if the curry is icky). ( … I don’t think…)

Deb: Barb, what a great idea this is. I have lived and learned through too many crises to count, the things that work for the people who are suffering and the things that don’t. And given that I am doing just this right now for my dear friend, here are some dos and don’ts (in my humble opinion) for this.

* When taking food, spring for some tin foil containers or plastic containers that you don’t want back. There is nothing worse after receiving gifts of food than having to clean and figure out who brought what dish ... and RETURN IT to them!

* When visiting the home of a friend who is going through a crisis, look around. Do the dishes that need doing, check if a meal needs heating and serving. Can you clip a dead flower of a floral gift or water the fresh flowers? I always just do these things without asking because often the person will decline if asked but secretly hopes someone will do it!

* Listen.

*  Try to resist comparing crisis stories unless you think what you have to add will be helpful.

*  Human touch is welcome––hugs are worth millions.

* I am not a cook. I have one dish I make and cookies, so with my wonderful and talented friends who do cook, I do the pick-up and delivery.

*  If you have a gift to offer, it’s great to think outside the box.

* Do a phone chain or an email chain. Sometimes with older people who need to know what is happening, we forget they are not on email.

* Don’t forget that laughter is the best medicine!

* If your crisis involves a funeral or travel in anyway, offer to pick up people who may need a ride.

That’s all I can think of right now. I am sure you guys out there have a million others?