2008 Woodie Awards
Listen to the rain
by Liat Faver
Issue date: 2/11/08 Section: Opinion
I got a letter from a friend of mine the other day. She wrote that her step-father has cancer. Her words were of great sadness and concern for her mother and her children. I listened to her and cried with her a little. It's really all I could do. Her news rekindled a lot of memories for me.
Several years ago, my sister died of pancreatic cancer. She was 54. I moved in with her and her husband in order to care for her while she underwent chemotherapy and myriad visits to the doctor. We spent long, gentle hours together watching movies, planning recipes, doing what sisters do. However, she was living in a morphine cloud that protected her from the pain. I kept books and puzzles at my bedside as an escape; small, but necessary, comfort for a weary soldier.
One thing I remember from all of those visits to the cancer clinics was how much the patients needed to talk. They compared stories with one another and shared their burdens. Once I was the only one in the waiting room with a woman who was in her seventh bout with cancer. She was balding and chalky white, with red blotches on her skin. She talked and talked about her battle, and her husband and children. I never heard her complain. She needed to talk a lot. I remember thinking what a large society cancer has created. These people live in a world of needles, catheters, pills and tears. I was a visitor to this planet.
The cancer path starts with hope. Everyone who loves the patient responds together with support and affection, prayers and positive energy. In my experience, the hope never died, but the signs indicated more and more that we would have to say goodbye to my sister. It's a terrible feeling to find yourself giving up a fight with death when it's your sister who's going away.
I will pray for my friend, her family and her step-father. I will try to offer strength and comfort when she needs me. But mostly I will listen, and hear. That's what is really needed. People need to talk about death and illness while it's happening, and no one wants to hear about it. Most of us feel inadequate and frightened that something will be asked of us that we can't give. All that's required is your heart and ears. Listen to grieving friends when they need you. It may be the most you will ever do to help them, and it's more valuable than you know.
Several years ago, my sister died of pancreatic cancer. She was 54. I moved in with her and her husband in order to care for her while she underwent chemotherapy and myriad visits to the doctor. We spent long, gentle hours together watching movies, planning recipes, doing what sisters do. However, she was living in a morphine cloud that protected her from the pain. I kept books and puzzles at my bedside as an escape; small, but necessary, comfort for a weary soldier.
One thing I remember from all of those visits to the cancer clinics was how much the patients needed to talk. They compared stories with one another and shared their burdens. Once I was the only one in the waiting room with a woman who was in her seventh bout with cancer. She was balding and chalky white, with red blotches on her skin. She talked and talked about her battle, and her husband and children. I never heard her complain. She needed to talk a lot. I remember thinking what a large society cancer has created. These people live in a world of needles, catheters, pills and tears. I was a visitor to this planet.
The cancer path starts with hope. Everyone who loves the patient responds together with support and affection, prayers and positive energy. In my experience, the hope never died, but the signs indicated more and more that we would have to say goodbye to my sister. It's a terrible feeling to find yourself giving up a fight with death when it's your sister who's going away.
I will pray for my friend, her family and her step-father. I will try to offer strength and comfort when she needs me. But mostly I will listen, and hear. That's what is really needed. People need to talk about death and illness while it's happening, and no one wants to hear about it. Most of us feel inadequate and frightened that something will be asked of us that we can't give. All that's required is your heart and ears. Listen to grieving friends when they need you. It may be the most you will ever do to help them, and it's more valuable than you know.
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