Friends Who Listen

Cancer can be a great gauge of character. 

When I  found out that this terrible disease that I fought so hard to eliminate from my life was back and progressed to stage 4, I was hysterical. To hear "stage 4 breast cancer" was like a death sentence to me in the beginning. 

I cannot even imagine now the amount of tears I shed during that first week. I was angry, hopeless, and depressed. And those who walked me through that time are truly amazing people. 

This entry is about two types of friends who showed up at my doorstep when I just found out. I'd like to write about this because I feel there is a great lesson to be learned here by all of us.

The first type of friend was one who let me pour out, and listened. 

They knew I needed to let things out. I was talking about how angry I was at the people who were mean to us during my treatments....about those who didn't keep their word regarding something (as I wrote about in this entry, On Judgment and Betrayal), about how Doods and I felt at times we were really on our own. I was lamenting about how all these caused me a lot of stress during my recovery period. The moment they tried to make me feel better, I got angrier. It was a difficult time and I spoke of things that were hard to take and listen to, but these friends stayed. They didn't squinch, twitch, or hurriedly left our home. In fact, one friend even went to the kitchen and prepared something for all of us to eat.

They stayed until I was calm. And we ended the night with a prayer. What calmed me down were not words, but to know that there would be friends who would stick it out with me and my family during the most difficult times. 

The other type of "friend" who showed up  got offended when I wasn't accepting of her words of "wisdom and knowledge". I needed for my feelings to be acknowledged at that point, not to be fixed. 
She clearly withdrew from me that night, and totally disappeared from my life eventually.

It was more important for this person to be right than to simply give comfort. 

Really, do you expect a woman in her early forties, who could possibly leave her young children to be "ok" a few days after finding out she could die? No doctorate or religious degree could comfort any woman in that position, I believe. Only genuine love and comfort would work. 

Now, I can laugh, have more hope, and those friends who listened are still here, enjoying these better days with me.
(Maybe soon I'll be posting pictures of them. Love 'em.)