What I Need in a Friend Right Now

Someone to actually visit me and not make me feel guilty for living far away

Someone to call or text to say hi, even though sometimes the Prednisone makes me not want to talk to people because I know I’ll say terrible things because I don’t really have a filter when I’m tired.

Someone who, instead of saying, “I’ll come soon,” gives several options of when they can visit and doesn’t give up when I’m indecisive. One of the side effects of prednisone is that I’m anxious most if not all of the time, and for me that translates into not being able to make decisions. I don’t care if you schedule to come see me in 2 weeks, just tell me that you’re coming so I have something to look forward to.

Someone who will call me and tell me about their day, remind me that there’s life beyond my house and tv and the internet. Pretend everything is normal and just talk to me. I’m weak, I’m not dead. If I’m too tired to talk, I’ll tell you.

Someone to send me verses and encouraging texts. I know it sounds terrible, but it feels like everyone was really supportive when they thought I might die, but now that I’m alive, and not serving everyone around me, it’s like I’ve slipped out of the collective consciousness. I feel guilty asking anyone to come see me or call me.

But I’m so depressed. I’m so lonely and tired of being tired. I’m terrified that when we start reducing my medication on Monday I’ll relapse and start losing proteins and swell up again. But I can’t wait to reduce the prednisone, because I know, at least in part, it’s causing my weakness, and fatigue, and depression, and anxiety, and sleeplessness, and dizziness, and acne, and moodiness and headaches, and pain, and shaky hands, and ravenous appetite and dehydration and electrolyte imbalances and the other ones that aren’t hitting me all the time, but come and go. Would I rather be on dialysis? No. Would I rather go back to being huge? No. Do I know that this, too, shall pass? Yes.

But it’s been 2 months. 2 months since I was able to call up a friend and plan to meet for coffee or go hang out with my Young Life girls. The hardest part about this is that I didn’t realize until last night that this isn’t just something I need to bear for a season, that will go back to normal as soon as I regain my strength. I’ve changed. I’ve grown much closer to my parents and my sister and her family, and I’ve watched in awe as my best friend drove 4 hours in the rain to see me in the hospital and then I have no idea how many hours to be with me on Easter. Another friend spent hours with me the evening before her finals week because I needed her, so she came. Another friend spent an afternoon of her spring break from med school just chilling, and has been consistent in her check-up calls. I have 3 really good friends. That’s a pretty cool thing.

But it hurts because I thought I had more than that. I thought I had been a good friend to more people than that. I know it’s awful to visit someone when they’re sick, especially in the hospital, and I appreciate those friends. I know it’s hard to call someone up that you haven’t talked to in a while and pretend to know what they’re talking about when they try to explain what’s wrong, and I appreciate those friends. I know how far away I live. I know it takes awhile. I just thought I was worth going out of your way for. That’s really what it comes down to. Because of this disease and the mind-numbing brakes that were put on my life, I’ve changed enough to see that I’ve made a life out of going out of my way for people, and those 3 friends---the ones I’ve had for at least 15 years each, are the only ones that really go out of their way for me,

I don’t want to guilt people into calling me or coming to visit me. Or maybe I do. I just want you to realize that this is really, really hard…and even though I’m improving, today was still harder than anything I’ve faced before.

I don’t want to make people feel bad when they see me or call. I give only the positive things. No one wants to hear how many minutes I can only walk a day before my legs give out, when I can put a positive spin on it and mention that I baked this or organized that, not mentioning that it took 3 hours in bed to recover from the 30 minute activity. I hoard my energy for trips to town, because the car trip can be torture, and I know it’s better if I use the cane over the wheelchair because people feel less upset then.

Everything, and I do mean everything, makes me tired. A shower uses up a quarter of the day’s energy, and usually requires lying down for awhile to make sure my heartrate goes down. I weed my garden for 15 minutes and am ready for a nap