Dr Max on the importance of being there for people when illness strikes
Max is a hospital doctor, author and columnist. He currently works full-time in mental health for the NHS. His new book, The Marvellous Adventure of Being Human, is out now
WE’VE ALL DONE IT. A friend has some dreadful news—they’re seriously unwell or they’ve been bereaved, for example—and we mean to call them, we really do. But, well, life gets in the way and before we know it, it’s weeks later. It would look bad to call now. You’ll drop them a note. Or maybe pop in to see them. But again, before you know it, the weeks have turned into months. It becomes awkward so you do what humans do so often: bury your head in the sand. You ignore it, telling yourself that other people will have stepped in. If you get in touch now it’ll be too late and embarrassing and you’ll look like you don’t care, so instead you just drag your heels even more, hoping that it will all get smoothed over somehow. Before you know it you’ve effectively stepped away from someone at precisely the time they needed you.
This chain of events is more common than you might realise. One poor lady I saw a few months back had been bereaved after her husband died from multiple sclerosis, only to be diagnosed with the same condition just a few months after his death. What an awful, unimaginable twist of fate. Here she was, nursing a broken heart, only to be dealt this dreadful blow. She told me how, after her husband was diagnosed, his friends seemed to melt away. She had told herself that her friends would never do the same. Yet, following her bereavement and diagnosis and an initial flurry of concerned emails or texts, her friends had abandoned her too. Not all of them, of course, but enough to make her feel bleak and alone. It felt, she said, as if people feared her sorrow and bad fortune was catching and were keeping away lest they be tainted in some way too.
It’s hard not to take this personally, but it’s not anything about the person. I’ve seen this happen so often, especially when people are unwell. In the weeks after a diagnosis there’s an initial spike in family and friends pitching in to offer support. People send cards and flowers. But then, nothing. The help drops off suddenly. People get on with their lives and, not quite knowing what to say, keep their distance. Or they feel guilty that they didn’t help sooner, so they stay away too.
So, what do you do? I’ve thought about this a lot and I think the key is to seize the initiati
