Help When Needed

Recently, a girl I know from high school was complaining about being hot on Facebook. It seemed she had a window air conditioner but was too afraid it would fall out the window if she put it in herself, so she needed help.

I knew for a fact that she has a good relationship with her parents and is often at their house (not too far away from where she lives) doing laundry, sleeping over, having dinner, etc. So I asked if she could ask her dad to come by and help. If my dad lived as close to me as her dad lives to her, I'd ask for exactly that type of help. But she said she couldn't ask, as "my parents still live on Long Island, and I'm in Queens." Um, Valley Stream is like, the last town before you HIT Queens. WTF? But okay.

I felt bad for her though. Because my dad would absolutely come over to help. He's the type who, on the very first warm night in early May, would say that the following weekend he would put air-conditioners in. Now, my parents got central air before my brother and I moved out. My point is, my father would help. I felt bad for this girl that she was so scared of accidentally killing someone that she was sweating her ass off in her oven of an apartment. Because, for whatever reason, she couldn't ask her father to help. Yes, maybe her parents don't have a car (although, everyone living on Long Island has a car). Or maybe her dad only has one arm. Or a bad back.

That's just not the impression I got though. I got the impression she simply could not ask that of them - it is not one of the services they provide. Free use of washing machine? Yes. Hauling ass into Queens to lift something heavy? No.

Then, a different friend broke her foot. She needed to go to a hospital. She happened to be staying at her mother's house (also in Queens, and yes, had she not been broken I would have asked her to go help the high school friend put in her A/C because I'm too far away to do it myself). This friend told me the hospital she was planning to go to the next day. I was not pleased, and made a phone call to find names of better hospitals near her.

When I called her back with these hospitals, she got upset. She was at the mercy of her parents, and they were only willing to take her to this one crappy hospital. I was frustrated and upset. I was angry at her parents. Had my parents still been living in New York I would have asked my own father to go into Queens, fetch my friend, and take her to a good hospital. And you know what? He would totally do that. He's just that kind of person. And my mother would take her to the drugstore to fill whatever prescriptions needed filling and also buy her a lollipop.

In my family when people were so sick or injured that they were immoble, they were given a little bell to ring when they needed something. And everyone in the family checked on you. Multiple times. They brought you things to play with throughout the day and night. Sometimes they just came and kept you company. Once, when I was stuck laying on the floor, waiting for an ambulance, my brother gave me his Gameboy to use. The EMS guys arrived to put me on a body board and I was playing Tetris.

I didn't grow up with a tv in my bedroom, but the couple of times I had long illnesses, one was brought in. I have a very clear memory of waking up in the middle of the night, turning on the black and white tv my father had put on my dresser and watching a movie where Gary Coleman was an angel (strange timing, I know). You knew you were seriously sick when the tv was brought in.

We're not particularly mushy about medical problems. There's very little "Oh, you POOR THING! I feel SO BADLY for you!" But there is a shit-ton of practical help, with a big dose of realistic reassurance. So there's no "You'll be FINE, don't worry!" but there is a lot of "We can deal with whatever the new reality is, because we will research the shit out of it and find the best people to help."

When my friend got angry at me for suggesting alternate hospitals she could ask to be taken to, I was hurt, confused, angry and frustrated. In thinking about it, I realized that she felt frustrated too. Because not only did her trip not turn out the way she'd planned it in her head, but because she couldn't take care of herself, and she's fiercely independent.

I don't care that my friend lashed out at me in anger. I'm angry at her parents though. She didn't get dropped off in front of the emergency room doors. She wasn't made comfortable. One of her parents didn't even ask how everything went when she left the hospital.

Of course everyone is different and has different experiences. But sometimes it takes seeing how people deal with things to realize how huge the differences are. Hearing about my these friends experiences with their parents makes me that much more grateful that my parents could be counted on to help. I hope that I am the kind of person others can count on to help.