Today I went through the first stage of two surgeries to have cataracts removed and the lenses replaced. It's a common procedure, with most if not all patients experiencing a dramatic improvement in their vision, along with a very low complication rate. Despite that I had a lot of anxiety coming into this. Not about the procedure itself, but how well I would see afterwards. Would I be able to read a computer's monitor screen well enough to still write code? Could I find and hold on a target well enough to make those tiny groups of holes I pride myself on?
Being a believer in not internalizing stress, I wrote to a number of friends, mentioning the surgery, the fact I was somewhat worried about it, and throwing a joke or two around as levity - I tend to use humor to counter stressful situations.
One reply I received shocked me with the words "shut up" and "stop whining". I certainly had not been whining about eye surgery. Given the number of times this person had reported the passing of friends and colleagues I would have never expected such a callous response. My reply took a while to craft. I wanted to refute that accusation and even admonish him for saying it, but eventually settled on a terse "message noted".
Meanwhile that name was moved out of the "friend" category to "someone I once knew". Regardless of the initial note's contents, the reply lacked compassion. People that won't share by listening to another's troubles, offering a shoulder to lean on during trying times, or sending a virtual hug or two are not true friends. Instead they are merely filling space on my contacts list.
I have had good friends phone, email, and/or instant-message me. Wishing good luck, saying a prayer or two. A couple folks took time to reach out with long conversations, checking up on how I was doing both before and afterwards. Like the poles on a teepee each of us hold the others up, preventing them from falling down. Almost all of those friends have issues of their own they have to deal with, we're all life members of the Island of Misfit Toys.
In spite of that, or perhaps because of that, we click. Those people formed a gaming team that was remarkable in its cohesion and teamwork abilities. Other groups wrote about us on their forums, wondering who the heck we were and how come we were as good at beating the pants off them as we were.⃰ The secret was simple, we cared about each other and used a private communications channel to relay information in order to keep outside interference to a minimum.
Those friends look after me. They spot the hard-to-find individuals and share their findings so my poor color vision does not hinder us. They'll note when I'm feeling off and get me to start up the oxygen concentrator. And they call, just to see how I'm doing.
Anyway, I won't be conversing much anymore with that person who cared so little about me. He may have a lot of positive attributes going for him, but the lack of empathy is a game changer, that friendship is getting tossed into the waste basket. The true friends I have are looking after me and I look after them.
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