Kindness all around me

Becoming the de facto advocate for my sister has put a crimp in my political activism. I'm sure the White House and Congress aren't missing my kvetching one little bit.

D. had her first chemo session today. I haven't spoken with her but her boyfriend R. called me around 7:30 p.m. to say they were back home after having spent the entire day at the infusion center. He warned me that we have to be careful not to bring germs/infections around D., as her immune system is severely compromised.

R. is a good guy. He has his own issues, but he's taking on the responsibility of caring for D., making sure she gets to all her appointments, takes her medication, etc. In my book, that makes him eligible for sainthood.

Found out today that the company that makes Oxycontin does have an assistance program, that if D. qualifies, she'll be able to get a month's supply of meds for around $25. That would be such a help.

The last few days I've been overwhelmed by the kindness of folks that don't even know my sister. When trying to write on my friend V.'s facebook wall, I somehow announced to the world that my sister was sick and have been showered with concern and prayers.

My neighbor S. told me of a place where D. and R. can stay for free during treatments if they don't feel like driving the hour and a half to get home, and S.'s friend, P. knows where D. can get a wig for free if she wants to go that route, when her hair falls out, as Dr. J. has told her it will.

(Doctor's don't know everything, right???) And when I walked out of work today, my boss pressed a wad on money in my hand, to help my sister pay for her meds. What an angel!

I also got a touching email from my best friend today. She and her daughter have had to deal with the recent death of both a beloved family member and a friend.

They've come up with some strategies for dealing with grief that are so wonderful they need to be out there in the blogosphere. They said I could share:

We've been talking about how we aren't given time to be sad in our world. Someone dies, loses a job, gets sick, gets divorced and we say suck it up! move on! get a grip! They used to wear black for a year when someone died, now we take a day and head back in, and if we're sad, we get a prescription to make us happy again. People used to go to bed early, stay in bed all day, drink lots of liquids when they got sick. Now we say, take a pill and hand in that report first thing in the morning. E. and I say: bullshit!

Your sister is dying...of course you're broken hearted! We expect you to be devastated: no excuses, no apologies.

Here's our strategy for dealing with modern day sadness; feel free to use it.

Wear p.j.'s as often as possible. Slipper socks, too. Drink gallons of tea: hot or cold, sweet or unsweet. Avoid everyone you don't really like. No being polite just to have company. Eat chocolate. Find a cat to sit on your lap. Buy yourself flowers. Lots of them. Avoid any sappy, sad movie that might come your way. Watch a lot of "Friends." Sleep as much as you like. The idea that sleep is an escape is true, but we believe escapes are o.k. If someone asks how you feel, say: sad. And tell them why. No apologies, no excuses. I love someone and they are hurt/gone/leaving soon is nothing to apologize for. It's the reason we're here.

And take your time. Ask yourself why you're here, is there a god, who am I, where is more chocolate. They're slow questions that flow naturally from loss, and they give our life meaning. They help us heal and grow and make us strong, even if we don't like the answers.

Finally, wrap yourself in a warm blanket of blessings. Look out the window and see the buds springing, the dog taking a drink from the pond, your little boy hanging from a tree. Listen very carefully to the end of the day. Build a bonfire and sit silently until it dies. Hold your almost grown daughter in your lap and stroke her hair. Wake your husband up in the middle of the night just to talk. Take it easy on yourself. Let the phone ring, forget to wash the dishes, don't bring home any work, tell the kids you're not taking them to Disney, because you're sad, and it's o.k. to be sad. They need to hear it from you, because no one else is going to say it. And then when they say something absolutely silly, laugh. That way they'll now they're a comfort.

One day you will feel better, though 5-10 pounds heavier that when you first found your sadness. And the next sadness that comes your way will remind you of this one and it will comfort you to remember the times spent in p.j.'s, drinking tea, sitting with the cat, sleeping.

Next post: A missed call and the riot act is read