Friends don't let friends...

Why do we do things that are bad for us...knowingly? It seems like only yesterday that my mother was covering my face with zinc oxide, telling me to stay out of the sun — that it was bad for my fair Irish skin. Did I follow her advice? Not always. My father smoked and suffered with emphysema. I witnessed the health risks firsthand — yet I took up smoking in my late twenties, and struggle with quitting every few years. I am a mature, intelligent woman. Yet I still go out in the sun unprotected and occasionally smoke.

But that’s me. I’m not looking for any lectures on the perils of smoking — I know all of them. In fact, I knew then what I know now. Will I quit again soon? Yes. Will it last? I don’t know. I’m also fully aware of the effects of sun damage. Would have, could have, and should have comes to mind. I say these words every year after I go to the dermatologist for a skin check-up. But this article is not all about me. So please, don’t send me any helpful hints on beating my smoking habit. I know what I have to do and when; my next annual physical is coming up way too soon for my comfort zone.

I bring this subject up because a good friend is concerned about her upcoming stress test. She is convinced she’ll need to have some type of heart surgery. She had one scare about 10 years ago, and another six years ago. She vowed to make some lifestyle changes both times — after she got a reasonably clean bill of health from her doctor, and a not so reasonable bill from the hospital. Did she change her ways? No. She doesn’t even go in for an annual physical. The caveat is that once her symptoms could no longer be ignored, she visited her cardiologist for the first time in six years. He wanted her to get in for the test on the next available basis, which means as soon as possible. She put the test off for two weeks. Why? Because her schedule is packed with serious matters, and more importantly, she's afraid of bad news and wants time to process.

I’m afraid for this friend also — and frustrated that it’s played out this way. Nevertheless, I will be there for her, without chastising or lecturing. Why? One reason is that I care for her well-being. Another is that I detest hypocrisy and am reminded of the old phrase “the pot calling the kettle black.” The most important reason that I will lend support to this friend is that I am her friend. It seems that many of our friends have distanced themselves from her recently. They're upset that she has let this situation go on for so long with no check-ups or significant lifestyle changes that may have prevented these current health issues. In other words, they think she brought this upon herself. Me? I recognize the situation. It could be my own, or more pointedly, any of our friends. The most vocal has been one friend who drinks (alcohol) on a regular basis and takes medication daily for a thyroid condition. Not only does the medication carry a warning against drinking, her doctor has advised her to stop. Another is a friend who smokes a cigar a day and says that it's much better than smoking cigarettes. I tell him an apple a day keeps the doctor away — not his expensive faux Cuban oral fixations.

My point is that each of us has our own set of weaknesses and vulnerabilities. In time they do catch up with us. We all live in glass houses; some are just made of glass that is more resilient. Over time though, resiliency wears off. The right stone could wreak havoc. I don’t advocate burying our heads in the sand or not speaking up and weighing in when we see friends heading toward a dangerous path. I take the keys when a friend has too much to drink and I cautiously offer advice when I feel it is both needed and justified. However, I try not to judge others, especially my friends — and I don’t want my friends judging me.

Friends are supposed to be friends. Would this friend be there for me, or any of our other friends, if the roles were reversed? Yes. She has been there for each of us on more than one occasion. She knows the true meaning of friendship. She knows that a friend is a person whom one knows, likes, and trusts — a person with whom one is allied in a struggle or cause; a comrade. She is a true-blue, loyal friend who will “go to the mattress” for you. Shouldn’t we do the same for her? Shouldn’t we be true-blue? This doesn’t mean we turn the proverbial blind eye — it simply means we are there for each other; in sickness and in health, through good times and bad. How appropriate — and rich in irony. These days, many friendships outlast marriages. When a marriage goes south, where does one turn for help? To our friends, of course. Our true-blue friends.

As the day approaches for my friend’s stress test, I check in with her often. I try to make her laugh and not worry. I tell our mutual friends to put down their stones...and that their pots and kettles were both black the last time I looked. I remind them of the many times this friend has been there for them. She didn’t lecture, chastise, or judge. I remind them that she left the gun, and took the cannoli, as a true-blue loyal friend would do. Sorry, I couldn’t resist another “Godfather” reference.

So, let’s hear it for true-blue friends. If you have a handful of close friends, it’s said that you’re lucky. I say you're blessed if you have one true-blue friend. I’m blessed and I’ll pass it on. I will take my friend for her stress test next Friday. I will be there for her, good news or bad. After all, friends don’t let friends drive alone — at least not on dangerous roads.

Hmmm? I can't decide what to do now. I'm thinking about sitting outside on my deck for a bit, but then I’ll want a cigarette. If I have one cigarette, I’ll want another. Besides, it’s hot and sunny today, and I’m out of sunscreen. Maybe I’ll get in my car (where I don’t smoke), and go check out that new self-tanning lotion that supposedly doesn’t make you look like orange Naugahyde. If I do that, I’ll probably spill some on the bathroom carpet while applying it, then I’ll get stressed out and have a cigarette. Since I don’t smoke inside my house, I’ll probably end up out on the deck and in the sun anyway. I know, I know...excuses, excuses, excuses. Maybe I’ll just stay home and make soup — in my nice big black kettle, in my nice big (fragile, handle with care) glass house.

Dedicated to my true-blue friend. Give me your keys — I’ll take the cannoli too.

© 2006 Teresa G. Franta