Understanding[,] sympathy and humor

Yesterday I was slightly irritated because a good friend hadn’t written or expressed the amount of concern I’d anticipated. After some (hopeful) hesitation, I wrote and explained that I needed to hear things like, “Thank God you’re not dead!” But since those were my words, I requested more creativity. He answered that I’d made it sound like a bump and a slight bruise.

That’s when I understood about sympathy and humor. It’s up to me to find the humorous side. For example, dear Sanity asked how bad it is. I said: “Well, I sleep as long as I feel like it and even then don’t have to get out of bed. I stay up reading as late as I want. I don’t have to cook, clean, go grocery shopping, or do laundry. It’s awful!!!” She said, “Oh, you poor thing!”

But when someone else said, “You can be thankful it’s not worse and that you can expect a full recovery,” I felt my operated-on shoulder twitch with annoyance. That’s what I’m supposed to say! Or if someone else says it, they need to include a preface like: “Thank God it’s not worse and you’ll recover fully.” You know what I mean? I don’t want to be lectured that I should be thankful. I am of normal intelligence and boy oh boy am I thankful!

All humor aside, I can’t play guitar for quite a while and I can’t drive for at least 3 weeks. (Okay already! I KNOW some people don’t even have a car at their disposal.) I feel like a totally caged monkey with no toys. (SanityFound, when you have a free minute could you take my picture? Thanks!) Now I have sympathy for animals in the zoo. Luckily their living conditions have improved over the years. But now and then they still might wonder about their purpose in life.

Why am I sharing this? Because somebody else might feel sorry for herself or neglected. In that case, I encourage you to reflect on whether or not people know that you need comfort and sympathy. If you joke too much, they might think you’re just fine. And if you happen to be in the lucky position of only having to comfort someone, tell them you are so GLAD that it wasn’t worse. Chances are, they’re as smart as me and have already thanked their lucky stars (probably more than once).

I also want to share that although I am not drowning in self-pity — not even treading, but easily floating with occasional bouts of tears (so that I don’t get stranded on dry ground), and although I will recover and be fine, and with some delay put out the CD that will in my modest estimation far exceed the first one, as well as eventually be able to cook and clean again (low priority), all expressions of compassion and sympathy are welcome!

And if anyone else needs some, feel free to let me know. I have plenty to spare. (Funny how our own compassion works best for others!) Compassion is free, but it’s priceless. So is sympathy.

Try again

Well I still only have five fingers at my disposal and have to lean back in my chair or my shoulder starts to throb in pain, but perhaps this will teach me to get to the point. Tuesday morning I had an awful argument with my almost-16-year-old. Once again she was running late and begged me to drive her to school. We’d been through that the previous day, and I’d told her that was it. If she gets up too late, that is her problem. She went from begging, to guilt (“Just once you could do me a favor), to outright accusation and abuse (“I wish you were dead.”) That shocked me and I told her: “Even in your strongest anger, you don’t say things like that. If I die today, you’ll never forgive yourself.”

I eventually gave in and drove her, which meant I could forget a leisurely breakfast, reading the newspaper and then walking to the hairdresser. I got back just in time to park the car and ride my bike there. This is an expensive bike that I was coerced into buying, because my family considered my 20-year-old mint-green three-speed an embarrassment. But it had gentler brakes.

So I raced off, signalled a right turn and clamped the left (front) brake. That led to a somersault. My shoulder was thoughtful enough to take the brunt of it. Rather than being dead now (in which case I wouldn’t be writing), or in a coma, I just have a slight bruise on my cheekbone and it hurts when I laugh. There isn’t really much to laugh about these days, but my dear friends are doing their best to cheer me up, so an occasional smirk is unavoidable.

There I lay in the middle of the road and watched a white van advancing. Since I couldn’t move, I calmly wondered if he would finish the job or help me. Lo and behold he stopped, lifted my bike off of me, helped me stand up (with another person supporting my back whom I never caught sight of), and offered to take me to the doctor. I said the hospital was more appropriate, but first I had to go cancel my hair appointment. He helped me walk the 15 yards, I walked in and said, “Hi, I have an appointment, but unfortunately have to cancel because I just had a bicycle accident and have to go to the hospital.” The guy put my bike in his van, drove me to the hospital, asked my address, and dropped my bike off at home. And I thought to myself: “Wow! There really are some great people!”

Since then I’ve been operated on and am back home. Mostly I sleep, read, talk on the phone, or spend brief intervals at the computer. Everyone has been incredibly nice and encouraging. More later, I have to rest again. Cause then I’m going to walk into town (10 minutes) and go to the hairdresser. My husband asked if I was going to take the bike, but I think the scooter would be more manageable with one hand. Just goofing around — I’m walking!

What have I learned? I will stop spoiling my daughter. I will take better care of myself. It is better to be firm and say “No.” If I’m not careful, something will happen to wake me up. When things get to be too much, I need to slow down. I have dear friends upon whom I can rely. Life is always good for a surprise.

I have not made it easy for my daughter. Rather than immediately forgiving her or saying it wasn’t her fault, I refused to see her at the hospital. When she walked in, I simply commented that her wish hadn’t been granted. I’m not dead yet. I’m letting her help out, make me a sandwich, get me something to drink. I’m not accepting any demands she tries to put on me. It is rather late to learn about boundaries, but I believe this is a valuable lesson for both of us. Like Rousseau I believe in the basic good of all people, but we/they need more boundaries than I realized.

And no, I don’t blame her for the accident. I was the one riding the bike.