Into your arms I go

The lyrics I choose for these blog titles have usually got a link to the content. At least that's what I try to do. Normally the link could probably be understood by about three people but I'm explaining this one. My friend Lynn and I have a real love for the band the Lemonheads and Into Your Arms is each of ours favourite song. We have both been at concerts where when the song is being played we've phoned the other just for them to hear it too. It's a tiny little something that's bound us quite tightly over the years.

Right back when I started this blog my friend Claire (affectionately known as Bundo) wrote a little piece about what it's like to be the friend of someone going through all the stuff I have. Well Lynn has come up trumps with a short piece of writing that pretty much encapsulates how most of my friends feel. It is intended for her own blog for her business but I thought it could do with an airing here

"I want to share a story about a friend of mine today. I’ve actually been really struggling with this as his story makes me feel incredibly guilty, I don’t see him often enough and when I do see him, I don’t want to share my stuff because he’s struggling just to breathe.

Everytime I go to see him, I think that I’ll give him hypnosis and help him out, and in the end I just sit and chat, feel helpless, and go away thinking there’s nothing I can do. Then I won’t see him for another few months because I’ll allow myself to get distracted by my life. A life I’m living fully thanks to my health.

My Friend, Paul, is waiting for a lung transplant. He’s 33 and spends most of his time in bed, connected to an oxygen concentrator. This visit, he explained that he’s not even on the active transplant list yet – he’s not even at the stage where he could get that call at any minute. Right now he’s just waiting to be called for the tests to see if he can be placed on that list. It make me really angry to think that this could go on for him for months yet. He’s already been there for over a year, and no end in sight. Yet each time I go see him, he’s positive and talks about it so matter of factly.

Truth is, I talk about trying to live with integrity and passion, yet with Paul, I don’t know how to. The thing that I noticed recently was that I was bothered that two of my friends got ill while we were on holiday, there was a part of me that was annoyed because I thought we’re in Marrakech for god’s sake – make the most of being here…it's just a silly little stomach bug! Not entirely the best and most compassionate way for a pharmacist to be thinking!

The thing that bothers me most is that I’ve been so sure that Paul will get the call any day now, so hearing that he’s not at that stage makes me want to cry. But I also feel like I have no right to feel like that. He’s so strong, that I feel awkward and shallow in his company now. I feel guilty for having full health, which I know is silly too – surely I owe it to him to be living life to the full? "

For what it's worth I think she beats herself up a bit much about how often she visits as she calls often enough and we can just chat away for hours too. Her final point is always something that bothers me though. She doesn't owe it to me to be living life to the full; she only owes that to herself. I often have people telling me they don't want to tell me the troubles from their lives because they seem trivial next to mine. I used to get really annoyed by that - I worried they were ignoring important things just because they weren't as dramatic as Cancer. If something important is happening in your life you need to address it and it's ok to tell me all about it, not least because knowing that life is just carrying on is curiously therapeutic, but also because I'm a right nosey bastard.