#10 Reciprocity

 

Several months ago, a man I’ve been seeing became woefully sick. He hadn’t had a cold or other illness like this in decades, he told me. He seemed both perplexed and angry that his body had betrayed him.

While he does take very good care of himself, I reminded him that he is just human. We are bound to encounter moments of weakness, when our defenses are lowered and fatigue factors into how well we can fight off infection.

At first, based on what he’d told me about the nature of his symptoms, I thought it might just be one of those colds that hit you hard in the first two days and then fade off into the night. I offered to bring him some medicine or prepare some soup and a Haitian remedy I love to drink when I am sick, but he refused. He told me that it wasn’t a big deal, and he’d be up and around in no time.

But he wasn’t. Over the next couple of days, he got sicker.

Again, I offered to come by and take care of him, but again he refused. At this point, his tune had changed from “I’ll be fine soon” to “I don’t really want you to see me this way” and “I don’t want to get you sick.”

But here’s the thing. When you care about someone, and you see they are hurting, you want to help.

This is the very nature of compassion: the acknowledgment of suffering in another and the subsequent need to help alleviate that suffering in some way.

When he and I first met, I told him about wanting to start a blog of sorts about compassion. I felt, as I’ve said in previous articles, that humanity seems to be letting compassion fall to the wayside. We prioritize other things, like curating a persona that we have everything figured out. But the truth is, there are many benefits to compassion and, equally, there are risks in not practising it in our lives.

This man admitted to me that compassion was not his forte. It was an honest statement that I very much appreciated because most people want to present themselves as being good at everything. Those people believe that if they don’t, if they show a kink in their armour, then it is tantamount to presenting their necks when faced with a sword.

I’ve mentioned before that compassion is not something we have or don’t have. Sure, there are some people who are naturally more compassionate than others, and this is based on a variety of factors, like their innate personalities, how they were raised and the life experiences they have had. But just because you are not naturally predisposed toward oodles of compassion does not mean you cannot build it up.

So, while he said he wasn’t adept at compassion, it didn’t mean he didn’t have any at all. Not by a long shot. In fact, I’ve seen him show it in many varied ways. What I think separates us, perhaps, is the things that affect me don’t necessarily affect him the same way. This has been true for many people in my life, including family and friends. Just because they don’t feel a pang at this or that doesn’t mean they are not compassionate. We just have different tipping points, if you will.

But while some people may have trouble showing compassion, others may have trouble receiving it. He was quite strongly resisting my offer to look after him. I suspected that part of the resistance revolved around the fact that he wasn’t used to being taken care of. He is a highly self-sufficient kind of person who is used to caring for himself. It seems he has always functioned this way. So, how do you show someone that it is okay to accept help when they are so unused to it?

I gave him two and a half days of space. And then I told him: “Tomorrow I’m coming over, and I’m going to take care of you. This is getting ridiculous.”

He half-laughed and then capitulated.

Was it forceful on my part?

Yep.

Do I regret it?

Nope.

 

When I left my apartment the next afternoon, I was carrying several bags containing sundry items for recovery from a cold. Upon my arrival at his condo, I spoke with the security guard at the entrance. She and I had become friendly, and we enjoyed chatting with each other.

“I haven’t seen you in a little while,” the young woman said.

“Yes, it’s been a busy few weeks,” I replied, “but I’m here now to take care of him.”

She looked visibly relieved by my words, and then said: “I saw him two days ago, and he looked terrible. I’m so glad you’ve come to look after him. Please give him my best.”

I assured her I would pass along her well wishes and took the elevator up.

When I entered his apartment, he was laying down on his couch, in a heap. A wave of tenderness arose in me. Then I got to work.

As I made the Haitian remedy that I always like to drink when sick, I told him about the security guard and how concerned she’d been for his well-being.

He smiled and said she was merely showing reciprocity because only a few weeks before, he’d seen her grimacing in pain at the concierge desk. When he asked her what was wrong, she said she had injured her back. She was struggling to find a comfortable seated position, so he immediately went up to his apartment and came back with medication to ease her pain.

Now, in a way, she was returning the favour by showing her concern for him. While she couldn’t physically care for him, knowing he’d be looked after had brought her solace.

“She’s showing compassion,” I said to him with a grin. “Just like you showed her compassion that other week. It’s really lovely.”

Here were two people who were peripherally in each other’s lives, but they nonetheless cared for one another. When they saw that one was suffering, the other made strides to assuage that pain. It is always beautiful to me to see that kind of exchange.

I stayed over for the next few days, making soup and preparing the Haitian concoction. I will share it with you, just because sharing is caring:

• A glug or two of rum

• Juice from one lime

• Honey to taste

• Grated or “garlic-pressed” fresh ginger (squeeze it over the glass to get as much of the ginger liquid in, and then scrape the ginger pieces into the glass)

*Adjust the honey to your liking so there is an equal balance of soothing goodness and vitamin C astringency. It is essentially a hot toddy without the water to dilute it. It’s strong and soothing and delicious!

When I finally got my stuff together and returned home a few days later, he was largely back on his feet, feeling a little bit better every day.

Now, I’m not going to pretend that I was some kind of special healer or that my remedies and soups really did all that much to get him better physically, but I will say that when you’re feeling like crap, having someone around who cares adds another layer of healing to the equation, healing that us humans need. The healing of the soul does help to heal the body.

And while he had initially been resistant to me coming over, by the time I left, his tune had changed. He had discovered what it felt like to be on the receiving end of compassion.

Sometimes, it can be just as hard to receive compassion as it is to give it, but I believe the benefits will always outweigh the losses.

American author and motivational speaker Leo Buscaglia once said:

“Too often we underestimate the power of a touch, a smile, a kind word, a listening ear, an honest compliment, or the smallest act of caring, all of which have the potential to turn a life around.”

Compassion doesn’t have to be a grand gesture. A big effort doesn’t necessarily convey more compassion than a small gesture does. Sometimes, all we need is a hand squeeze, a hug or a text message from someone checking in on us when we’re feeling down. As Leo said, we underestimate our capacity to affect others in significant ways. But there is so much good we can do, for those we love and for strangers alike.

Think of the last time someone did something for you when you were feeling down. Was it a big thing or a small thing? How did it make you feel?

And what was the last thing you did for someone else? Was it a big thing or a small thing? How did they receive it?

I went to care for someone who was sick because he was suffering, and I wanted to ease his pain. He, in turn, shared with me how meaningful that gesture had been. Weeks earlier, he had helped the security guard in his building because he wanted to ease her pain. And she, in turn, had shown real distress—followed by relief—when she realized he would be looked after.

Compassion serves both parties, bringing us closer to a shared sense of well-being. May we all keep showing up for one another, in big ways and small.

 

Until next time.