Being Helped
On November 25th, I broke the pinkie and ring finger on my left hand while riding my bike. Actually, that's not true, I broke them hitting the concrete. There wasn't much pain at the time, but I did have to do something uncomfortable: ask for help. I called my partner and ask him to collect me (and my bike). He took me to urgent care where they confirmed the breaks and outfitted me with a comically large cast. On December 10th, the doctor inserted four pins (two per finger) and they remained in me until January 4th.
Other than the intense pain after the insertion of the pins, the only other discomfort I experienced was asking for help. Suddenly jars and Ziploc closures lay just beyond my abilities. Food preparation also presented many hurdles. I could no longer cut vegetables or even manipulate some of my heavier pans and lids. I felt awful having to ask my partner to stem and halve Brussel sprouts, dice onions, open cans, and retrieve pots and pans from the depths of our cabinets. He also became my driver for a month, an activity he's not terribly fond of in the best of circumstances and probably even less so with me in the vehicle.
One day, I forget what prompted it, he gave me a little gift of words, "Finally get to pay you back for all the times you've driven me to doctor appointments and procedures." The first thing that popped into my mind was, "Why does he feel like he owes me? I was happy to do those things." The word 'happy' made me pause. Indeed, I had been happy to drive him to those appointments and not just because he's amusing coming out of the effects of twilight anesthesia. (Once, on the way home from a back procedure, he told me the same story three times like I was sitting on hold with the oddest recording playing.) As I scrolled through my memory, remembering taking care of my last partner, my grandmother, various free yoga classes I've taught to charity volunteers, and other volunteer opportunities I've taken part in, I remembered the feeling of happiness associated with each one. And not just happiness, but happiness and fulfillment.
Suddenly I no longer felt guilty for asking for help. My partner has volunteered for countless charities since I've known him. He is one of those people who still holds a feeling of service to others as being a normal part of daily life, not just something done during the holidays. He's even found a way to continue volunteering during the pandemic while keeping socially distanced. He understands the feeling of contentment gotten from helping others. Who am I to deny him that feeling?
Sometimes I wonder if our constant need to monetize everything has made asking for help harder. There is no payment for help, there is no reciprocal relationship inherent in helping others, if you help a stranger, someone you will never see again, the only thing you can expect is that joyful feeling of helping and possibly a "thank you." And it's a good thing, can you imagine bargaining with a stranger from inside your burning house as they stood holding a ladder? "Venmo me twenty dollars and I'll put the ladder up to your window, thirty dollars and I'll hold it steady." I fear the concept of uninhibited help is the last thread tethering the human species to a moral center.
I don't recall anyone ever teaching me to ask for help as a child. Stop-drop-and-roll, stranger danger, say 'no' to drugs, and only I can prevent forest fires, but never the concept of asking for help. I first remember "volunteering" for something when a family I was spending the weekend with drafted me into taking part in a beach clean-up in the Hamptons. At first, I was less than thrilled (my general mood in my teenage years) to spend part of my weekend picking up trash, but once we had our section completed there was a glimmer of pride shining through my thick teenage angst. Of course, at that age you don't have the wherewithal to look at both sides of the equation and figure out somebody had to ask for volunteers.
So, if you need help, ask for it knowing you are giving somebody the opportunity to feel connected to something other than social media for a moment and a positive self-image to look back on when the world might tell them otherwise. It's part of what creates community and part of what builds compassion, two ideas lacking in the world today. Remember this quote from Kate Northrup: "Having a need and needing help is not a sign that you're weak, it's a sign that you're human."