A friend?

"We'll be friends forever, won't we, Pooh?" asked Piglet.

"Even longer," Pooh answered.
Piglet sidled up to Pooh from behind.
"Pooh?" he wisphered.
"Yes, Piglet?"
"Nothing," said Piglet, taking Pooh's hand.
"I just wanted to be sure of you."

A.A. Milne

There was something that happened after surgery that is important for me to talk about. Although it happened to me and by all means is therefore a personal experience, it is something that I feel falls in line with a specific issue that I have heard many other people who live with chronic medical problems go through. I am not sure if issue is the right word to use to describe this matter but for lack of a better word it is what I will use. Please forgive me if you think it is wrong. I don't mean to offend anyone; merely to express my feelings about something that I find quite personal and hurtful; something that other people also go through; something that you likely won't understand until you yourself are faced with a major medical crisis or some other life altering situation.

The issue that I am going to talk about is friendship. Yes, friendship. Friendship should not be an issue. It should be something natural and fulfilling, the source of fond memories and many laughs, something that brings joy and, if need be, support, a shoulder to cry on, an ear to listen, a much needed hug. Depending on what the individuals in the friendship are going through, it might at times require effort and even commitment and dedication, but, in general, a friendship is easy. When things are difficult, it is natural to support a friend. When things are going well, it is easy to include a friend. But an issue? How can friendship be an issue? The word issue implies that there is a problem, a point of contention, a disagreement, something that is wrong. How can a friendship be wrong?

Let me back up a bit. While in school, I thought that I had made a number of good friends. Sitting in class with a group of people for days on end is a sure way to do that. Just ask any college or university student out there. But there is something special about nursing school - the heavy course load, surviving your first clinical placement together when you all feel equally inadequate and scared that you might do something horribly wrong, early morning trips on empty buses to the hospital while the rest of the city still sleeps, worrying about the next physiology test and that fear sparked by the approach of end of semester clinical examinations. Nursing school builds friendship, as I imagine any post-secondary program leading to a medical profession would. On the first day of the program, the course coordinator told us that the friends we make in nursing school will be friends for life. I believed her.

Given how close some of my classmates had become during the first half of the program, I was not prepared for what would happen once I took leave to deal with my medical problems. This is something that those of you who regularly follow my blog will know. When I took leave from school, my so called friends forgot that I existed. I haven't heard from some people since the final day of exams. Other people texted me for several weeks, the texts gradually slowing down and tapering off, eventually stopping entirely. One individual texted me on and off for some time. When she texted me several days after surgery in November, I hadn't heard from her in about at least a month. She never texted me back after I told her that I had already had surgery and was recovering in the hospital. There were others who I tried to stay in contact with; those individuals never got back to me. There were no phone calls or emails, no get well cards or hospital visits. It was as if I somehow ceased to exist. And it hurt. It hurt a lot. And you know what, it still hurts. I was completely unprepared to lose almost my entire circle of friends within the matter of a month or so. Who would be?

Why did this happen? That is a really good question. Perhaps they never liked to me to begin with and saw my leave as the perfect opportunity to lose contact with me. But why did they spend all that time with me if they didn’t like me? Maybe they didn't value the friendship as much as I did so it was easy for them to forget about me. It could be that they didn't know how to respond to the situation, how to address my medical issues, so they kept silent. Or maybe, the most likely explanation in my opinion, they were only my friends when it was convenient for them, when I was already there in class with them and putting forth my part of the friendship.

In contrast, I spent a long time wondering if it was my fault that my friends lost contact with me. What if I had tried harder? Sent more e-mails? Texted more often? I thought that maybe it was my fault that the friendship failed. But that didn't make sense either. I tried really hard to be a good friend. I helped people with school work, gave study and exam advice, hung out with people between classes; many laughs and jokes shared, reassurances given when necessary, texting, talking, coffee... What did I do that could cause my friends to forget about me? I did my best to be a good friend. So, the question is why? It was a question I asked a lot. 

Regardless of why my friends dropped me like a stone, it happened and it is something that happens to many people who are confronted with a health crisis. There is a statement that I have heard time and time again - I learned who my true friends were when I became ill. Just like other bloggers who have experienced this phenomenon, so have I. By the time I had surgery two weeks ago, I was almost over losing my friends. Not quite, but almost. The long months stuck at home, in my bed or on the couch, still bother me. I still find it unfair when I see or hear about other young people doing fun things, going to school, finding work, or any of the other things young adults do. I still feel lonely and isolated. But I am finding more and more joy from the friendship I still have (two very good friends) and thinking less and less about the supposed friends who forgot about me when I got sick.

And then that heterotopic ossification thing happened and I needed surgery so I found myself in the hospital early one Friday afternoon. I really needed something to eat after surgery, so once I had left same-day surgery and before I headed to the parking garage, mum wheeled me to the cafe on the hospital's main floor. I had been so worried all those months about bumping into a classmate while I was in the hospital. I was adamant that I would ask for a new nurse if one of my classmates happened to be doing their clinical placement when I was in the hospital and were assigned to take care of me. I even told my surgeon that I didn't want nursing students in the OR when I had surgery because I knew at least one classmate who's clinical instructor told her she would get her students into the operating room. I worried about it two weeks ago, the night before surgery, because I had seen student nurses working the pre-op area before. But I wasn't expecting to see anyone after surgery.

My mum was a step or two away from where I was, sitting in my wheelchair. I was groggy and trying to think about what to eat, looking around at the various people in the cafe when I saw a familiar friend. I will call her E. I didn't want her to notice me, to talk to me, so I asked my mum if we could go down to the cafeteria instead. Despite my wish to remain unnoticed, E. noticed me when mum and I were half way out the cafe. So there I was, pale, tired, groggy, black half-moons under my eyes, leg stretched out in front on me with the fixator perched on top of it. E. walked toward me, looked me up all down and asked "What are you doing here?" Not how are you or long time no see. There was no pleasantry. No questions about that external fixator so prominent on my leg. Just "What are you doing here?" And there I was, tired and groggy. I didn't know how to respond, what to say. I didn't want to justify being in a place I had every right to be or to explain why I was there. I didn't want to have to tell her about everything I had been through over the months - the PICC line, all the surgeries, the pain and worry and fatigue, the external fixator, all the appointments, all the x-rays we waited to see as the anticipation built inside us. I didn’t want to explain all these things to someone who clearly had no interest all those long months. No. I didn't want to tell her any of that. I wanted here to know how hurt I was that our friendship meant so little to her; how incredibly painful it is to lose all of your friends when you are already confronted with a tremendously difficult and lengthy situation. I wanted her to know how badly I felt. And I couldn't find the words to say, they got stuck. All I could say was "It's surgery day". And she said "Oh". To which I replied "Yeah. I have to go".  E. took a second to respond and then slowly said "Oh, you have to go?" Yes... so mum wheeled me away, and that was that.

But it wasn't. I'm still thinking about it, trying to understand it. Maybe she was just as surprised to see me as I was to see her. But even then, why wouldn't see ask how I was doing or say something nice like everyone missed me? Did she go home afterwards  and think about the brief interaction just like I did? She didn't call or text in the following days, apologizing for not keeping in contact (goodness knows that I tried) or wondering how I was doing. All those months while I sat at home she probably didn't think about me at all. Our friendship didn't mean to her what it meant to me. I would never treat a friend that way. If one of my friends was ill, I would be there to offer support and company, a hug, a distraction, a good laugh. I would never forget about someone because they got ill or because it was inconvenient to send them a text message or short e-mail. 

And that's when it hit me, like so many other before me: You learned who your true friends were when you became ill. The only explanation that comes close enough to explain why my supposed friends forgot about me was that they weren't really friends at all. I value my friendships so much and they are worth putting effort and dedication into, even when things get tough. But not everyone thinks that way. E. will probably forget about me. She won't wonder how I am doing or if I got rid of my bone infection. Neither will she wonder about the fixator on my leg or ever call or text me again. I wasn't important to her and when things got rough and required effort on her part she backed out of the friendship. All of my friends from school did. That hurts, it stings. It is cruel. The loneliness and isolation are already cruel, but the realization that your friends didn't care enough to keep in touch is worse. And that is why friendship is an issue. It is a massive problem for that individual who does get left behind.

The word issue might offend some people. They might say that my so called friends had every right to stop being friends with me. Yes, they are free to do as they please. A friendship is not a lifelong obligation, nor is it a given right that one can demand. But isn't it odd that all those people who I considered friends, every last one of them, forgot about me at the same time? That they all dropped the friendship even when I continued to contact them? I tried to be the best friend I could be while I was in school. When I got sick, the friendship ended. Sometime I think that the friendships would have continued if I tried harder. Maybe if only I sent one more text. But I was the one who got sick, whose life screeched to a halt, who required multiple surgeries and crutches and PICC lines and an external fixator. I already had the burden of being tired and sick and worried. Why then should it also have been my responsibility to try to keep in contact with all those people when they clearly had no interest in putting effort into the friendship. And that's what gets me that most. If I would confront them about it, they would likely say that I could have kept texting them. But that's not fair to me. It is not a valid excuse towards anyone who is sick or going through a really difficult situation. I shouldn’t be sick and tired and worried and trying to keep I contact with everyone if not one of them puts any effort in being a friend to me. That realization is liberating; it makes is possible to stop blaming yourself or wondering why and realize that it wasn't your fault that people forgot about you. That helps things a little bit. It was not my fault.

And that's it. It’s actually quite simple when you get down to it. You really do realize who your friends are and you do figure out that it is not your fault if others are unwilling to put in their part of the friendship. I wanted to share that with everyone because even though this was a personal experience, it matches what so many other people go through. I want people who are ill to know that they are not obligated to keep up their end of the friendship if all their friends no longer get in touch with them when they become ill. The person who is ill is also not obligated to question why those friends don't call anymore. If the friendship and the effort I put in meant so little to them, I shouldn't waste more of my time (already so precious when you are tired or sick and face medical hurdles) questioning why they don't call any more.

Lastly, to everyone out there, I want you to consider your friendships and how much they mean to you. What is friendship worth? What value do you attach to it? Are you willing to do for your friends what they do for you? Are your friendships worth that little extra bit of effort that could brighten the other person’s life? We might be individuals, but when we are in any type of relationship our actions have an effect on others. With that line of thought, it makes sense that the other people involved in those relationships are also affected when we walk away them. Losing my friends during the most difficult part of my life has had a profound effect on me - I now know the effects of isolation and loneliness, how difficult life is without friends and the support they offer. The only positive to come out of this situation is the affect it has had on how I view friendship. It is valuable and cannot be taken lightly or for granted. I will never treat somebody the way my friends treated me. Getting through something difficult with a friend makes the friendship stronger, more valuable, and more meaningful. For now though, that knowledge offers little comfort. I am still sitting on my couch alone.