Search Engine Grab Bag: Get Well Wishes for Amputees

Since I started this website, I have striven to answer a number of different questions about surviving amputation that have come my way, as well as questions I already knew existed because I asked them myself when it was my turn.  Sometimes this means sending you somewhere else for the answer.  Sometimes this means telling you what I've learned on my own or from other people.  Sometimes all I can give you is my own take, with the understanding that I am not a credentialed authority on, well, anything.  I'm a subject matter expert on my own life, sure, but on other people's only insofar as they have touched mine while I was paying attention.  I'm thrilled to share resources, and I'm happy to tell you what I've seen and felt, and what other people tell me they see and feel.

Sometimes people I know or meet just come right out and ask me stuff, or vice versa.  Sometimes people come here looking for things, and I know what they seek because I see their search strings in my stats.  Increasingly, as the site builds, I am gratified to note that many of the answers they seek are already represented here, or will be soon as they are incorporated in things I am already working on.  Sometimes, though, people ask search engines things I had no intention of addressing, hadn't even thought of, in fact, 'til I saw what they'd asked.  I've started this whole new category just for such questions.  I'll be going through my old posts and linking some of them in here, too.

Tonight's question, which I must answer in less than thirty minutes because of NaBloPoMo (before the inevitable OCD-driven rewrite begins after midnight), is one that showed up in my stats a couple of months ago.  I will translate the search query into English for convenience:

"What should I write on a get-well card for an amputee?"

Another way it showed up was like this:

"get well wishes for amputees"

Now, I don't know if this was some greeting card publishing company employee looking to fill a niche because of the war and America's aging and increasingly diabetic population -- and gosh, I really really hope not -- or if this was one or more people genuinely looking for the words to write to someone upon learning of an amputation, impending or recent.  For the purposes of this post and the shriveled walnut I'd not like my heart to become, I'm going to assume the latter.

Here's my advice. 

First, call, don't write.  I guess you could e-mail, but only if you can keep it as casual as a phone call, and only if you know this person has immediate internet access, which s/he might not if s/he's still in hospital.  If your friend or relative or coworker or acquaintance is stuck in a hospital, unless s/he's drugged up after some horrible trauma and completely out of it for awhile, I guarantee you s/he wants to hear your voice, one way or another.  Hospitals are terrible places to hang out.  Also, if the person of whom you're thinking has not yet had an amputation but expects to soon, you should still call.  Unless this is one of those rare cases where there's a limb that was born on the person in such a way as to be more of a hindrance than a help and the amputation is actually going to make for an easier, more productive and enjoyable life, this person is no doubt terribly sad and frightened.

When you do call, or e-mail, don't tell this person how to feel.  Start the conversation with, "Hey, I heard what [has happened/is happening] to you.  How are you doing?"  Then listen.

If this person says s/he feels miserable, then you can say you're sorry.  Say you're sorry s/he's suffering, though.  Make sure this person hears how happy you are that s/he's alive.

Ask if there's anything you can do.  Ask if the person wants company, but don't insist on visiting.  Sometimes we feel icky and gross and not like having company right after surgeries, you know?  On the other hand, sometimes we know we look and smell disgusting but don't care because we are so very desperate for contact.  You let your friend tell you what s/he wants, and then respect his or her wishes.

Let the person know you will be available to help.  Then really be available to help.  Ways in which you may be called upon to help include driving the person to doctors' appointments and waiting, sometimes a very long time, just for the patient to be seen.  Your easygoing, cheerful company during such occasions will be invaluable.  Also, after the hospital, your friend might be housebound for some time unless other people come to take him or her out.  Outings are big, and they are work for everyone involved, including the new amputee, possibly involving hauling of equipment and physical support over things like icy pavement, but they can keep away depression and wallowing.  I will be grateful for the rest of my life to all the people who drove me around and just took me out -- to dine, to shop, to go look at things besides the inside of my house -- before I could walk and drive myself around on my own again.

But I must repeat:  no matter what else you are able to offer this person, when you talk to this person about what s/he's going through, make sure you mostly listen.  You can ask questions.  Questions are good.  Do not spit platitudes at this person.  Here are some examples of things NOT to say:

"Everything happens for a reason."

"God never gives us more than we can handle."

"Where there's a will there's a way."

While you may firmly believe all these things and the many similar permutations which have been known to come spilling out of people's mouths reflexively like spittle during a bad drug experience as soon as anyone they half care about gets into trouble, your friend might not.  Maybe s/he believed it last week, but then this happened, and s/he doesn't anymore.  While this might worry you, it is not your job to correct this person's attitude unless you already have that kind of relationship.  If you had that kind of relationship, though, you wouldn't be asking me what to say because you'd already know.

Even if it is your job to correct this person's attitude, you aren't going to do it babbling nonsense just because it sounds good and should be true.  Your only hope for making someone in trouble of any kind feel good is to start with loving that person and openly revealing your love even if s/he's a crankypants over having an arm ripped off by a tractor or having to give up both feet because of that drunk driver on I95.   It's imperative that you treat him or her like s/he is the same person s/he's ever been.  It's also imperative that you let this person mourn what s/he has lost in a meaningful way.

Do bring news of the outside world.  Do ask if there's anything else this person would like you to bring.  If you are going to send food, don't send cakes and candy, send real food that can feed the household sensibly.  Bring a casserole or something.  Lay off the fancy boxes of naughty things.  One of my boyfriend's tai chi colleagues gave us a casserole dish full of Chinese dumplings she'd made from scratch right when I came out of the hospital.  I lived on those for two days while I was too weak to cook for myself and my boyfriend had to go to work and leave me alone all day.  On the other hand, well meaning relatives sent me cakes and candies that made me sick and fat while I binged on them mindlessly because I was physically bored.

Do respect this person's wishes, whatever s/he tells you, and this person's process and feelings. 

If you don't feel comfortable interacting with the person in question on such an intimate level, or if you feel that platitude-spitting twitch and just can't shut it down, or if you feel like you just aren't going to be able to prevent yourself from turning this situation into a TV movie-of-the-week-worthy production starring you as Bette Midler in Beaches, stay away, don't call, and don't write, not anything at all.  Send flowers or balloons only if you know the person isn't allergic.  If you absolutely have to send something, though I can't think of a reason if you aren't even close enough to pick up a phone, send a non-sappy, non-religious card with a note to the effect that you hope this person feels better soon.  Period.  No poetry.  No flowery sentiments.

That's my take, in a nutshell.  I'd love it if others who have been through this would offer their own feelings on this subject in comments.

Thanks for asking.

Comments

[shuna fish lydon]

"Let the person know you will be available to help. Then really be available to help."

Then really be available to help.

I have tears in my eyes. As this is the best line, for any situation. The things we say that we don't really mean? But we say because they are The Things to say?

They're unhelpful, and sometimes hurtful to the ears on the head of the other person hearing them.

And the listening, the asking questions? Instead of telling someone how to feel?

It's what we're most afraid of. Ask them what it's like for them. It is such a grand concept.

This here? This is why blogging is utterly important.

Thank you. So much.

[Cathy]

So much wisdom here.

[The Goldfish]

My good friend lost a leg this summer. He is at the other end of the country and continued to be very ill from the infection, so I simply had to write. I guess I do have a fair amount of experience of having and supporting disabled friends (including this chap, who had a mental health impairment before this illness).

And indeed, from my own experiences of illness and loss, I did feel that contact, any contact, is a million times better than nothing.

But I did worry terribly, not having any feedback about how he was taking what had happened; I might be saying the wrong things, even with all the tact in the world.

However, it was greatly appreciated. So I do think there might be something to be said for taking just a small risk. If simply to demonstrate that you, as a friend, are not completely horrified by the situation.

Unfortunately my feeling is that those who are going to issue those awful platitudes are the least likely to think twice about it.

Fantastic post, anyway. :-)

[Sara]

I was so encouraged by the fact that anyone -- more than one person, actually -- went looking for the right thing to say. It's so wonderful when people think before they blurt. I wish I could remember to do it more often.

I also wish I could say I had lived my own life platitude-free, but one of the reasons I know what not to say is because I have myself spewed some of this crap from time to time. It's embarrassing to admit, but being corrected is why I ever thought about it before I needed to make my own corrections, and at any rate, fortunately, I was forgiven.

I think when we start from love and, as Shuna says, start from the premise of asking people in these situations how they feel and what they want we just can't go too far wrong. But people who can't do this, people who have to include themselves in every drama just to prove they're important or give themselves something to talk about at dinner parties, people who wear their involvement in every Situation like a badge of caring-ness for all and sundry to admire, those people need to back off. As you say, Goldfish, it is probably true that these are the very people least likely to listen to my advice. Still, another service we can offer people we love in times of need is running interference. Perhaps knowing that these platitudes are usually offensive will help someone do that more effectively.

I can only put it out there and hope.

I'm sure you write great letters, and I'm sure they were welcome. How's your friend doing now?

[Marla]

I came across this site in search of ideas to put on a card for a friend who is a recent amputee. Since there are so many people that can't be there to spend time with her, I took it upon myself to make a card with well wishes from all the people that have written on her facebook, to show her how much she's loved. When I read this article it made me wish everyone at my Mom's wake/funeral had read it before coming. There is so much wisdom in your words. I think the worst thing to ask is, "Are you okay?" or "How are you feeling?" I'd assume the loss of a limb is a similar mourning process to loosing someone, possibly worse in some ways.