Accepting Help
Mon., January 17, 10:54 AM
Sometime in my early teens, I came upon what I believed to be a most profound truth: When there is a job to be done, you either do it yourself or pay someone else to do it for you. This truism governed my actions for years. Eventually I would learn that there were degrees and nuances to my motto.
If you need bread, you can buy it; you can buy refrigerated dough; you can buy a mix; or you can bake it from scratch. But even when I baked bread from scratch, I never milled the flour myself. Furthermore, I would discover that maybe the task doesn’t really need to be done, at least right now. Well, that was never an option in my mother’s house.
At any rate, since I didn’t have much money or the prospect of getting it in the near future, I made it my business to try to learn how to do whatever was necessary. Both my parents had skills and talents to teach, and I learned something from almost everyone I met.
Certainly, this practice made me independent and self-sufficient. Coincidentally, I guess it kept me occupied during those frustrating adolescent years. I would tell myself I was preparing for when my Real Life – whether that be career woman or housewife – would start.
Discovering that I had cancer led me to reexamine my thinking. I went for that mammogram by myself, and I went alone to the surgeon for the biopsy. But on the day that I asked U.D. to accompany me for my surgery, I realized that asking for help was going to be part of my new lifestyle. It turns out to be a real paradigm shift.
My intention was to maintain my personal routine as much as I could. I continued to do my mornings – except that I gave myself an extra hour, up at six instead of five. Dishes, test my sugar, make coffee, waken U.D., get my own breakfast. I’m still in charge of Husband’s medications as well as my own. So, as I began treatment, not a lot had changed.
Bosslawyer was among the first people I needed to ask. Even before I knew what chemo would do to me, I pointed out to him that I would have to be more flexible in my hours. Throughout the year, I went in on my usual three days (unless it was a treatment day, when I didn’t go at all), but I worked fewer hours. Bosslawyer was agreeable; why shouldn’t he be? I got all the work done, and he doesn’t have to pay me if I’m not there! (I haven’t earned such a small salary since the years I worked for Red Cross!)
When the chemo lowered my white blood cell count, making me more susceptible to infection, I was restrained further. Standard orders: avoid crowds, wash your hands, steam your vegetables. No theaters. They even suggested I stay home from the office, but no one comes in there except Bosslawyer and Otherlawyer. No crowds there.
I had figured that, if U.D. drove me to the stores, I could do my own shopping, even if I got tired. Suddenly it was necessary to make a list and have someone do the shopping for me. No more chasing bargains; the lists would have to conform to the most familiar store. As I had done before I had a car, I occasionally resorted to catalogues – or maybe the internet.
U.D. accepted responsibility for many household tasks. This was harder than it might appear, for not only is she housekeeping challenged, but she also has limits to how much extra she can handle. (Don’t ask me to explain; that’s how she is.) In any case, things generally got done, even if they weren’t done My Way.
I would have thought that I could do research myself, but I was on overload; I absolutely did not want to read anything about cancer on line. Son did all of that for me, checking out surgery, chemotherapy drugs and radiation procedures, before phoning the doctors and asking specific questions. (He also consulted his professional friends, giving him another viewpoint.)
Son drove down from Boston to accompany me to treatments and provide the “extra pair of ears” when I saw the doctors. And after a chemo treatment, when I’d fall asleep after lunch, he cleaned my kitchen or mowed my lawn. He did piles of cleaning and discarding, which is the hardest part of all sometimes. Yes, I’m still looking for some of the things he put away for me.
I depended on my daughters, my son and my son-in-law. They all contributed more than I can recount. But I shouldn’t forget what other people did too. Sister offered to drive me wherever I needed to go – a generous offer, since she would have to drive forty miles in the company van. Fortunately, I didn’t have to take her up on it. Nor did I need the hair that two young women offered me. Friends of my kids told me, just call if you need anything; we’ll be there.
Many people just said, we’ll pray for you. (One lady set up a prayer circle for me.) Never mind that they weren’t of my religion. I said from the start, all prayers gratefully accepted. There is tremendous power in good wishes, no matter what form they take.
I’m still depending on U.D. to take my car for maintenance and inspection (because my mechanic of choice is too far away). And since my last full-serve gas station has closed, she’s pumping gas for me too. Who would have thought I’d need that?
Even as I continue to get stronger, I’m not yet ready to pick up where I left off. Sometime I complain so much I get sick of myself, but that’s a subject for another day.
