I have one and only one things to say when people tell me terrible things have happened to them. Be it death, injury, or career, there is only one thing to say that ALWAYS works
It is
“Can I buy you a drink” or if at home “Would you like a shot of vodka?”
95% of the time, shut up, pour the drink and LISTEN.
I couldn’t agree more.
Even among Christians this kind of comment is controversial. A Catholic may agree that “she’s in a better place” or say “I know Grandma’s looking down on me right now,” while some Protestant denominations (mine included) believe that the dead are asleep.
As a suicide/crisis hotline volunteer, I talk with many people who are in all kinds of situations like those mentioned in this thread. We don’t mention religion unless the caller brings it up. And if a person tells me that Grandma is watching them from heaven, I wouldn’t dream of saying anything otherwise. It isn’t the time or place for debates on religious doctrine—it’s a time for them to talk about what is weighing them down.
Actually, no, I wouldn’t “be down” on that.
Being unrealistic isn’t being supportive. It’s being unrealistic. They’re being idiots. While it’s true that some people are going to be idiots regardless I see no reason to encourage the idiots.
Yes, we all go through tough times. We do NOT all go through spinal injuries. Comparing the ordinary difficulties of a normal, able-bodied life to the sort of injury that results in life-time wheelchair use is ridiculous. It really is significantly different “tough times”.
Random strangers who don’t know the person can be forgiven for such things, I suppose, but family and close friends should do better. Focusing on “walk again” when what the person really needs is a well-designed, durable wheelchair they can maneuver so they can get around in “the real world” is actually counter-productive.
Right, the person in question has just suffered a life-altering trauma and THEY need to take care of other peoples’ feeling in ADDITION to taking care of their recovery? No, I’m sorry - in the initial recovery phase it should be all about the injured person, not about them “understanding” well-meaning idiots.
Seriously, I think often the “understanding and kindness” phrases are said for the benefit of the speaker, who’d rather live in a magical world where everyone with an injured spine learns to walk again and being brave cures cancer.
OK, but did people keep saying those things for the rest of your entire life? I’d say about one time in four when my husband is out at the mall or big box store some dizzy church lady comes up pushing Jesus or some brand of woo-woo to cure him and make him normal. It doesn’t stop for someone with a visible physical disability.
There’s a type of kindness that’s more hurtful than kind. Looking on someone with constant pity rather than seeing what they can do and helping them actually achieve what’s possible is a kind of cruelty. Implying that someone’s life isn’t worth living unless they can walk is likewise cruel, however kindly said.
The kid in the OP seems to be coping better than some of the folks around him (which isn’t that unusual). He’s trying to see what is possible in the world of wheelchairs, so presumably he’s got a grasp he’s in that particular world. He’s at least acknowledged the possibility he won’t walk again. He’s moving on with his life. He probably thinks falsely chirpy people coming into his room proclaiming he’ll walk again are stupid or nuts.
In the initial recovery phase after that sort of life-altering trauma YES, IT SHOULD BE ALL ABOUT THEM. In the initial phase. If you’re visiting someone sick and/or injured in the hospital or in rehab yes, it IS all about them, about them recovery, and learning to cope with new limitations and learn new skills they never imagined they’d need.
Really, your attitude is on par with the attitude that the cripples should just sit down (whoops, they already are), shut up, and go sit over there where they won’t be in the way. They need to be “quiet” and “good” and “well-behaved” and not be uppity, like confronting able-bodied assholes who park in handicapped spots or doing backflips off ski-jumps or sky-diving or starting companies. They shouldn’t confront idiots spouting off shit they know nothing about, or attempting to limit them, or force them down a path that’s either impossible or ridiculous.
Right…my husband should have been grateful his relatives were “kind” enough to take him to church even if they made him sit in the back pew and made him sit on a stack of newspapers because everyone “knows” those little cripple kids are incontinent. Then there was all the praying for him to be normal and when it didn’t happen, well, he must not have enough faith!
Really, what my husband wanted to do at that age was get up on a horse or bicycle so he could go out and explore the world around him, because on either of those two conveyances he was the equal of anyone. He didn’t need pity, he needed his freedom.
No, sometimes you ARE better off if you’re left alone. Implying that the crippled are so pathetic that any attention at all is better than allowing them to make their own way in the world is just… well, I can only conclude you don’t really know anyone who is actually disabled.
Do you really think the disabled are in such a horrible place that they should be “grateful that someone, anyone cares enough to show interest”? My god, the pity and scorn in that statement are blazing. Just as women are more than simply objects of sexual interest for men, the disabled are more than simply objects of pity for the likes of you. Really, all you can see are people so desperate that any human contact is welcomed?
Now I feel sorry for you.
Depending on the degree of disability, I do have some trouble getting my head around that idea.
About 25 years ago an uncle of mine was in a bad car accident and was rendered partially quadraplegic. I say “partially” because he still had some control of his arms: if you pushed his forearm up against his upper arm, he couldn’t extend it (couldn’t control his triceps), but he could lift you off the ground with his biceps. After recovering from various other injuries incurred in the accident, he was able to enjoy his hobby of sketch art through the use of some braces that made interesting kinematic use out of whatever muscles he was still able to control. So yes, in that case I could see that he was able to lead a somewhat fulfilling life.
OTOH…
About twelve years ago a colleague’s teenage son broke his neck in a swimming accident and was rendered completely quadraplegic, no voluntary control of anything below his neck. I didn’t know this boy very well before the accident; I saw him only once about a year after the accident, and I had no idea how to relate to him, what to say or talk about. I struggled (and still do) to imagine what I would want to hear if the roles were reversed. Physicality is a defining part of my existence - I ride a motorcycle, I do home maintenance, I make things in a machine shop and in my home shop - and so I am at a loss to comprehend the existence of someone who is barely able to manipulate the physical world. 
Why would you say that? Nobody is arguing that you have to be blunt and honest to the point of being demoralizing. The important point here is think about what you are saying. No matter how good your intentions, it’s not a good idea to give people false hope (which does not mean it is your responsibility to puncture whatever hope they may have) or put pressure on them. “I’m sure you will walk again-” seriously, unless you are the person’s doctor, how would you know this? And if the doctor isn’t sure, how are you?
Those facts tend to suck the meaning out of the statement, and what’s the good of empty words? Don’t tell people what’s going to happen when you and they cannot possibly know what is going to happen. Tell them you love them, tell them you support them, tell them they can rely on you if they need help. Don’t tell them everything is going to be OK because you’re sure they will walk again or because your aunt beat cancer or whatever or that you know someone else who went through something else terrible and now they’re fine.
This has been acknowledged repeatedly. It’s a difficult situation, but that doesn’t mean you can’t think about what you’re saying and what it means. A statement is more meaningful if you consider it first.
That’s actually a pretty logical response, isn’t it? I mean, if you stop and think about what is means instead of just saying it because it’s something people say.
Of course not.
If you can’t think of something meaningful to say, don’t say anything. If you are speaking formulaically and are not putting much thought into what you are saying, how much meaning do you think the other person will get out of it?
What real world do you think you’re in that people with serious illnesses or suffering through tragedies are not in?
Here’s an idea: ASK him what he enjoys doing. If I recall, our locked-in Doper enjoys playing Civilization on line. Oh, and he spends time on message boards. Don’t be afraid to say “I’m a physical guy, I’m not sure what I’d do in your position - do you have any hobbies? What do you like to do?”
When YOU are giving comfort to someone else, it is all about THEM. If that isn’t what you intend to do, keep your mouth shut. If it IS what you intend to do, try and keep from cramming your foot down your mouth while you do it.
Now, most people are gracious and no matter how much “they are in a better place” or “God knows best” or “oh, my cousin beat cancer, you can too” or “oh, you’ll get pregnant if you just relax” makes you want to punch them - most of us smile and take it in the spirit its been given. When we are strong, we brush it off, and it doesn’t add to our burden - but when we are going through troubles, we are often weak, and thoughtless comments wear on us, they don’t comfort us - which is what they are intended to do.
See #4 in this New York Times list of things not to say to someone who’s sick:
Excellent. I hadn’t brought up “What can I do to help?” but that can be a tough one, too. It’s never bothered me, but my mom was complaining about it not that long ago. She’s been through this kind of stuff and she doesn’t know what people can do to help- and with enough things to do already, she didn’t want to take the time to think up things for other people to do.
If only more inspirational stories were told this way, the world would be a better place.
Absolutely, this. My husband has a SCI and not long after he was injured a local television reporter sustained a similar injury while surfing. Fortunately for the reporter, his injury was temporary although he had to undergo a lot of physiotherapy and rehab to enable him to eventually walk again.
Unfortunately, for the disabled community at large, the media went on and on and on about how ‘brave’ Kevin H. had been, how he’d never given up and how hard and relentlessly he’d worked at his physio and rehab. And guess what? Because Kevin H. had never given up and had worked so hard at his rehab, he’d walked again. The unspoken message was that those lazy bastards still sitting in their wheelchairs should’ve taken a leaf out of Kevin H’s book and they’d be walking too. No, they didn’t say that, of course, but that’s the way it came across.
Maybe the delivery of the “What can I do to help?” is more the problem than the phrase by itself. Perhaps some people have more sincerity in their tone, or their relationship to the suffering person might change “don’t do this” to “do this” in some cases.
My stepmother uttered that same phrase in May after my wife came out of the hospital in a very weakened state, beginning a long road of treatment that resulted in “the year without a summer” for us.
We took her up on it a few times, in ways that were not trivial or disrespectful to her offer (no scrubbing the oven or painting the walls). For example, when I had to go out of town on business, I said “You know, my wife has a doctor’s appointment on Tuesday afternoon and I wish she wouldn’t go alone, could you go with her?”
Happy stepmother, calmer wife.
People in tragic or challenging situations have plenty of things that need taking care of, at a time when they just don’t need more problems.
When a family friend lost her husband a few years ago, my wife walked with her through just about everything in the process of handling her husband’s death. She does not speak English very well and her husband had handled all affairs, so I imagine all of the tasks involved in death of a family member were doubly overwhelming. I believe my wife’s first question to her had been some variant of “What can I do to help?” and she did whatever our friend needed.
All situations are different and all people are different, so YMMV really applies here.
I think you’re right, and that it’s about people making a real effort to be genuinely helpful, vs. empty offers made for show.I think perhaps some combination is best: start by actually doing something unasked, as much as you can, and then make the offer: “I’m happy to do more, I’m just not sure what you need, and maybe you don’t know right now either. So just know that when you’re finding yourself thinking ‘Damn, I could use some help with this’ - I want you to call me.”
One of the hardest lessons I’ve learned this last year is that “it’ll be okay”, “it’ll all work out”, and “you’ll be happy again” are not necessarily true.
There are some illnesses we can’t beat. There are some tragedies that really do destroy us. Not in a “in a few years, you’ll think about it, and you’ll realize, you’ve healed” way, but in a “nope, that’s it. I’ve gone through every resource I had, and it’s never going to get better.” Maybe it’s terminal cancer. Maybe it’s watching a loved one disintegrate. Maybe it’s going through ten doctors, all of whom agree there is something wrong with you, and you certainly have an impressive list of debilitating symptoms, but there’s no diagnosis, and no treatment. Oh, and by the way, most people think you’re faking it because you’re lazy, a drama queen, or a hypochondriac.
My favorite aunt of childhood is a bloated, incontinent, immobile lobotomy. My mother and her sister are fighting to have her DNR updated to “allow to progress to natural death” so she doesn’t keep getting shifted from nursing home to ICU for every infection that sets in, won’t go through multiple amputations thanks to the peripheral neuropathy and arteriopathy due to advanced diabetes, and won’t bleed hundreds of thousands of dollars in Medicare money in futile attempts to lengthen a life that, by rights, would have ended years ago.
My father, once the most intelligent man I knew, is a bitter, frightened, lonely shell of a man who has alienated five of his six children, and has left my mother and me praying that he’s dropped by a major stroke instead of feeling his own mind wash away like a sand castle under attack by the tide.
I don’t have to imagine a bout of depression so bad that death would be a relief. I’ve lived it. The only I didn’t kill myself is because my mom needed me. Even knowing that the depression would (probably? maybe?) pass wasn’t enough. It hurt so bad, if I could have taken a handful of pills knowing I wouldn’t wake up, I would have. I stayed for my mom. (It’s significantly better now, BTW. Thank you.)
Yes, sometimes platitudes comfort. Other times, all they do is rub a terrible wound raw one more time.
A word comes to mind, that I haven’t seen mentioned yet on this thread, for people who offer such empty “encouragement” for others who are hurting (in any sense): shallow. I really would want to pit such people for their shallowness in saying things like that. And I think that Broomstick is right, that such people are saying that to make themselves feel better, possibly even deluding themselves into believing it.
Just a thought, Broomstick, but it might be worth a snicker.
The next time some do-good-ie-two-shoes suggests your husband pray to Jesus, maybe he could give the person a blank look, and then explain as if the person were very stupid (because they are), “But, Jesus asked me to be a cripple. He said I was the only person He knew who could pull it off. So, of course, I said yes.”
If he can pull that off with a straight face, I really want to hear what happens after.
People are really inadequate when it comes to comforting a depressed person. Even having gone through depression yourself doesn’t ensure that you’ll say the right thing.
“Everything will be alright”, “Things always look worse than they actually are”, and “Look on the bright side! You have your health!” really and truly sound like good, comforting things to say to someone who is depressed. What’s hard to understand is that a depressed person, at least in the early stages, can know these things and it STILL doesn’t help. When I’m feeling very depressed, as I did a couple of weeks ago, I kept telling myself that the cloud was going to lift, that it was all an illusion of brain chemistry, that I have so many good things to be grateful for, blah blah blah. But depression is a delusional disease. A person can know they are deluded–that people aren’t actually trying to kill them, that monsters aren’t actually under their bed–but the feelings of their false beliefs are still there, compelling them to believe.
My therapist has been wonderful at teaching me, without knowing it, how to be comforting to someone who’s going through a depressive episode. “It’s alright to cry, I’m here for you” or “Of course, you’re depressed! Anyone in your situation would be!” or “I’m not going to abandon you. We’re going to get through this.” And I always leave feeling better, rather than guilty for not being grateful or for bringing someone else down.
People really need to read Barbara Ehrenreich’s “Bright Side”.
On of the pieces of advice I’ve gotten and given is to appoint a help coordinator. Go over in some detail about what sorts of things you feel comfortable having people do for you - and that might be different levels of comfort. Then say “oh, here is Barb’s number, she’s coordinating help for me and if you really mean it, she’ll put you on a call list to run errands, mow the lawn.”
Most people won’t call your coordinator. But for the ones that need to find something to do to help, the coordinator can coordinate.
A coworker did this when her child had cancer - and they had dinner brought to them four nights a week. Someone had their older child out of the house for all the doctor’s and chemo appointments, diapers and groceries were dropped off. They didn’t mow their lawn or shovel that year. And with the coordinator running the show, they weren’t getting four pans of lasagna at a time.
monstro, you’re a bad person; I hope you know that.
WHAT DID YOU GET AT THE GIFT-SWAPPING PARTY?
I got a big ole box of winterizing supplies for the car. Like a windshield cover so that I don’t have to scrape ice in the morning. And de-icer for the lock (dontcha just hate when the key won’t turn?) A big bag of rock salt. Some other doodads that will come in handy, plus the jumbo Rubbermaid container it all came in.