A sewing project
Dec. 3rd, 2006 09:30 pm![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
kate_schaeferToday I finished a sewing project for my friend Q. You probably don't know Q; she's not part of the science fiction community, nor is she someone I went to school with.
Late last summer, I noticed that Q's shirt fit her oddly. Tactfully, I suggested that she adjust her bra, which had obviously gotten twisted somehow. She turned away for a moment, then told me that the problem wasn't her bra -- she wasn't wearing a bra -- it was her breast. It was the large tumor in her breast, which had made her bras too uncomfortable to wear and which had finally grown to a noticeable size. I was the first person who had commented on it, she said.
Oh, I said. Probably other people hadn't noticed yet; since I am, in theory, a clothing professional, I look at how people's clothes fit more closely than most people do. I am uncertain whether that's true, but at that moment, I wanted Q to feel less embarrassed.
Q may be the staunchest believer in alternative medicine I know, to the point of rejecting most of the hard-won body of knowledge of western medicine in favor of naturopathy, homeopathy, acupuncture, nutritional supplements, and exercise. Me, I have nothing against naturopathy, homeopathy, acupuncture, nutritional supplements, and exercise, but I want them used as adjuncts to western medicine. If I were to move over to having alternative medicine as my primary treatment method, I'd still want the lessons of western medicine working in my favor. Q wouldn't have a broken leg treated by sticking needles into it; she'd get it set and braced, and then she'd stick needles in the appropriate spot to, oh, I don't know, improve blood flow and energize the body's healing forces. I wish she'd gone for surgery and then turned down chemotherapy in favor of alternative practice.
When she developed the tumor in her breast several years ago, she decided to treat it by improving her nutritional practices, drinking more water, and getting more exercise (and other stuff; I don't know what all she tried, and I don't need to know). Her overall health improved. She was strong, energetic, and really healthy, but she had that lump in her breast. Sometimes it got smaller, she said, and sometimes it got larger.
By the time I noticed it, the tumor was as big as my fist. I don't have a big fist, but that's still pretty damn big for something that doesn't belong in the healthy body.
I made Q an undershirt with an inside pocket over her healthy breast to hold padding to make it look as large as the tumor-swelled breast. I used organic cotton for the shirt and for the padding, because she wants to avoid unnecessary chemical exposure. I made her a set of pads in graduated sizes to put in the pocket, to reflect the changes in size as the tumor (occasionally) shrinks and (mostly) grows.
Q likes the undershirt. It evens out the lopsidedness and keeps people from staring at her. I got two more and fitted them with pockets, which I delivered to her today. I gave her some extra pads for the pockets; she needs them, because the tumor's bigger.
It's a thing I could do; it's all I could do. I cannot make her make different medical decisions; she's not stupid, she's not misinformed or uninformed or crazy. She's researched all her options, and she's chosen a course I'd never choose, knowing the likely outcome.
Late last summer, I noticed that Q's shirt fit her oddly. Tactfully, I suggested that she adjust her bra, which had obviously gotten twisted somehow. She turned away for a moment, then told me that the problem wasn't her bra -- she wasn't wearing a bra -- it was her breast. It was the large tumor in her breast, which had made her bras too uncomfortable to wear and which had finally grown to a noticeable size. I was the first person who had commented on it, she said.
Oh, I said. Probably other people hadn't noticed yet; since I am, in theory, a clothing professional, I look at how people's clothes fit more closely than most people do. I am uncertain whether that's true, but at that moment, I wanted Q to feel less embarrassed.
Q may be the staunchest believer in alternative medicine I know, to the point of rejecting most of the hard-won body of knowledge of western medicine in favor of naturopathy, homeopathy, acupuncture, nutritional supplements, and exercise. Me, I have nothing against naturopathy, homeopathy, acupuncture, nutritional supplements, and exercise, but I want them used as adjuncts to western medicine. If I were to move over to having alternative medicine as my primary treatment method, I'd still want the lessons of western medicine working in my favor. Q wouldn't have a broken leg treated by sticking needles into it; she'd get it set and braced, and then she'd stick needles in the appropriate spot to, oh, I don't know, improve blood flow and energize the body's healing forces. I wish she'd gone for surgery and then turned down chemotherapy in favor of alternative practice.
When she developed the tumor in her breast several years ago, she decided to treat it by improving her nutritional practices, drinking more water, and getting more exercise (and other stuff; I don't know what all she tried, and I don't need to know). Her overall health improved. She was strong, energetic, and really healthy, but she had that lump in her breast. Sometimes it got smaller, she said, and sometimes it got larger.
By the time I noticed it, the tumor was as big as my fist. I don't have a big fist, but that's still pretty damn big for something that doesn't belong in the healthy body.
I made Q an undershirt with an inside pocket over her healthy breast to hold padding to make it look as large as the tumor-swelled breast. I used organic cotton for the shirt and for the padding, because she wants to avoid unnecessary chemical exposure. I made her a set of pads in graduated sizes to put in the pocket, to reflect the changes in size as the tumor (occasionally) shrinks and (mostly) grows.
Q likes the undershirt. It evens out the lopsidedness and keeps people from staring at her. I got two more and fitted them with pockets, which I delivered to her today. I gave her some extra pads for the pockets; she needs them, because the tumor's bigger.
It's a thing I could do; it's all I could do. I cannot make her make different medical decisions; she's not stupid, she's not misinformed or uninformed or crazy. She's researched all her options, and she's chosen a course I'd never choose, knowing the likely outcome.
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no subject
Date: 2006-12-05 07:21 pm (UTC)One wants to make sure to spend time with people who aren't having a crisis right now as well. One wants to have ordinary friendships, the sort that across time happen to include plenty of bad experiences as well as good ones simply because all of those experiences come along in the course of a life, rather than the unbalanced variety of friendship in which one is always the person lending the sympathetic shoulder, or always the person needing that shoulder.
Being a foul-weather friend is seductive because it's always so completely obvious what the payoff is: X needs me! Now! I am important in the world because I'm saving X!
(Kate looks back through the thread to see who else will be reading this subthread: Anna and Deb, besides Karen and whoever wanders into it later. Anna and I are not close, but happy to see each other at Wiscon and online, unlikely to become much closer because of the distance in miles, temperament, and ages, but also unlikely to stop being happy to see each other. Deb and I are close friends despite living far apart, with a rueful common interest in foul weather that can interfere with simple ordinary fun together. Karen and I are long-time not-close friends who are frequently given each other's name-badges at conventions; if we lived in the same city, I suspect we'd be closer, because we do have interests in common, but since we don't, we'll go on dining together once every year or two and observing with interest whatever bits each writes online.)
I think Q is quite clear about the boundaries. She works in health care herself, which is a major source of her skepticism about western medicine, and that's not a field in which one can work long-term without good boundaries.
Visiting someone in the hospital is not an ordinary kindness. It was an ordinary kindness when we were growing up and learning our manners, but in the meantime, hospital stays have changed character dramatically. They are either much shorter than they used to be -- so that there is no time to visit the hospitalized person -- or much longer -- because the hospitalized person isn't going to die after all, but is hooked up to exotic equipment that didn't exist in our youth. I know that I am generalizing wildly here.
If the person in the hospital is someone I'd go out to dinner with in a big group and converse with cheerfully, I still wouldn't visit unless someone told me that X specifically asked about me, or if (foul-weather alert) I learned that X had no or few visitors, or if X were so ill that it's goodbye time. If the person in the hospital is someone I'd invite out myself solo, I'd go, or I'd intend to go and fail to make it because the hospitalization was over before I had an unscheduled opportunity.
no subject
Date: 2006-12-12 05:55 pm (UTC)Thanks for the hospital explanation too. I never thought about it as changing mores.
I'm still musing over foul-weather friend. I like to help but I recoil from needy people, and have rather a horror of those who live their lives in perpetual crises. But I know I have still felt that tug at times, of "I can help!" And have sometimes caught myself by saying, "Wait, do I really know this person well enough?"
But I don't regret helping some casual friends with their chicken coop raising last year.