Ten points on being a good friend to someone with a sick child

Depending on how well you know me, this will either be news or not news, but I currently have two friends with very sick children.  Both happen to currently be at BC Children's Hospital, which is very convenient for me, but not-so-pleasant for them.  One of these moms, Kate, recently blogged about a similar subject.  Her post got me thinking.  The following is a ten point guide of my personal thoughts on how to be a good friend when this huge, life-changing thing happens to someone you know.  I'm sure there are other points, but these are the ones that have struck me as the most profound and universal... really, they're just the things I wish someone had told me.  

1: Show up.

I'm not sure if this one requires further explanation.  Maybe it does.  It can be scary to show up at the home or hospital room of someone with a sick child.  However scared you are though, they are more scared.  However "strong" you feel you have to be to be there for them, they have been forced to be infinitely more strong without being given a choice.  Suck it up.  Be there.  You have a choice, they do not.  Choose to be there.

2: Hugs don't require words.

Nobody "knows what to say".  "I don't know what to say" is a perfectly acceptable first attempt at conversation.  You will probably find that the rest comes naturally.  If it doesn't, just don't say anything.  Hugs say more than anything that could possibly come out of your mouth.  If you can't find words for mom, focus on the child.  Kids make it easy. 

3: Bring coffee.

Hospital coffee is terrible. That is all. Or, maybe that's not all. 

4: There is no "wrong coffee."
Here is what will probably run through your mind when you try to heed point 3.
"But I don't know what kind of coffee she likes!  What if I bring a latte and she's more of an americano kind of girl?  What if she's lactose intolerant and I put milk in it?  What if she doesn't even like coffee, and would have preferred tea?  Maybe I shouldn't get anything, I'll just get it wrong." 
Snap out of it.  She's not going to stop liking you just because you brought the wrong coffee.  Worst case scenario, she doesn't drink it, but she thinks you're a pretty great person for making the effort, and you find out what she prefers for next time.  In my experience... if it is strong and tastes better than "melted rubber" (a direct quote re: hospital coffee), people with sick children will drink it.  For some reason, they all love coffee.  I'm going to go out on a limb and guess that its because it is really effing hard to sleep when your bed is a chair (or if you're lucky enough to be staying longer than a few days, a cot) and the nurses come in every 2 hours to check on your kid and stop the beeping machine from making that ridiculous noise until you want to throw it across the room, and when you "wake up" from your non-sleeping, you have to face another day of the same 4 walls, beeping machines, endless parade of nurses and doctors, and your kid won't go to sleep unless you're touching her.  So yeah.  Coffee.  It's a simple enough concept.

5: Take responsibility for the little decisions.

The "no wrong coffee" thing leads beautifully into this next point.  This point is about not needing to ask "what would you prefer".  Your friend has just been given 72 hours to decide whether she'd prefer to have her daughter beat the current tumours she has in her lungs, or to keep her hearing.  Or maybe she's been asked to decide, in the next 30 seconds please, whether she'd prefer her daughter be on a breathing tube or be allowed to die.  Asking her, then, what she would prefer to eat for dinner, can be pretty overwhelming and/or pretty trivial.  Just bring food.  Put it in front of her.  Put a fork in her hand.  She will eat it.   

6: Say "No."
So, you've shown up, you've brought some coffee and some food, you've given some hugs... you've done this a few times. She calls you.  She needs something.  You have plans.  It is OK to say "No".  Don't feel guilty about having your own life when your friend is going through this.  Don't feel guilty about having a crappy day and just needing some space.  She will understand.  She has crappy days too (more of them lately).  If she has humbled herself to the point of asking for help, she is also realistic about the fact that she may not get it.  She has every right to ask you, and you have every right to say "Not today."

7: Its OK to cry.
In my experience, moms like it when you cry over their babies.  It makes them feel less alone.  Be careful not to become a blubbering mess, forcing THEM to comfort YOU.  That is counter-productive, and will lead them to resent you.  If you have to completely fall apart, do it at home in the shower. 

8: Its OK to talk about IT.
IT is the elephant in the room.  The illness.  The dreaded spectre of whatever it is that is wrong with their child.  It can be hard to talk about IT.  IT makes you uncomfortable.  You don't want to remind them of their pain.  Well, hate to break it to you, but they remember already.  Hearing IT from you isn't going to suddenly make IT more real*.  IT is something that is never out of their minds, even when you think you've sufficiently distracted them by talking about something completely insignificant and irrelevant.  They talk about IT all day with doctors.  They think about IT as they try to fall asleep, or when they wake up at 3am.  They cry about IT every time they look at their child when they think nobody is watching.  Talking about IT can be very therapeutic... for both of you.  Also, they are like any other parent.  They loooove to talk about their child.  Right now, IT is the major thing going on in their child's life, and just like if they were a piano prodigy or really, really good at saying "Cat", they want to tell people about it.  The sooner you get comfortable with the words "cancer baby" or "demyelination" or "suction machine", the sooner you can connect with your friend on a meaningful level about what is really going on in their life RIGHT NOW.  And that is what they need.  They don't need to know about the cool party you went to last night, although it's OK to tell them about it.  Chances are, they are not bringing up IT because they don't want to freak YOU out, and scare away one of the few people who still visit them.

*big disclaimer on this point - if they have JUST been diagnosed, and have not yet gotten over the "denial" part of the process, talking about IT in too much detail should be avoided - ask some broad questions, and take your cues from them

9:  Tell your family you love them.

It is hard being married to someone who is friends with moms with sick babies.  They break dates to be at the hospital.  They decide on a whim that they need to bring coffee or food or hugs.  They don't come home for dinner because they decided to stop by and it turned into a 3 hour field trip to get food "anywhere other than the hospital".  They invite whole families to live at your house until they can figure out their next step.  They take in puppies who rip apart your garden.  They prattle on incessantly about breast milk donations, fill up your freezer with baggies of the aforementioned liquid gold, and make you deliver coolers to guys named "Steve" in random locations, like the local auto body shop.  You end up having to do things like rub their shoulder through the curtain while they cry in the shower.  So, as the friend of a mom with a sick baby, remember to tell your family that you appreciate their flexibility and understanding.  It is hard for them to watch you go through this, and they could very easily make it very hard for you.  Also remember that YOU could be that mom with the sick child one day, and be grateful for every healthy moment.

10: Show up

I repeated this one.  I did it on purpose. It is the most important.