The Sick

Last night my husband, some of his family and I went to visit my dear friend's husband in the hospital. Her husband had just had an operation the day before. The brother was so weak, and had tubes in every which place. It all reminded me of my operation, and how vulnerable you can get when you are ill. It was almost surreal walking into the room and not being the bedridden one.

I love the hadith that says on the Day of Judgment Allah will say, “O son of Adam I was sick and you did not visit Me. He will say: O Lord how can I visit You? You are the Lord of the worlds. Allah says: Did you not know that My servant so and so was sick yet you did not visit him? Did you not know that if you had visited him you would have found Me with him?” Visiting someone who is sick is such a beautifully healing experience for everyone involved- not that there aren't some unpleasantries...

For the most part I loved when people would come visit me. But sometimes I just wanted to close my eyes and wanted everyone to be gone when I opened them. Subhan'Allah, our religion makes so much practical sense. As Muslims, the etiquette of visiting a sick person includes keeping the visit short. It was also very difficult for me to talk after my surgery. Sometimes my mother or husband would tell visitors not to let me talk, and then as soon as the visitor would see me, she'd say, "So, tell me how you're doing."

Visiting someone who's ill can be so delicate... you don't want to do or say anything improper. I remember feeling so unsure about how to behave when I'd go see someone who was seriously ill- and now I am that person. I feel like I wither under people's pity. Pity is different from sympathy or compassion- okay, quick dictionary check shows it's not that different, but it feels different, at least to me. When people approach me with pity, they act as if all is lost. They treat me as if I'm a non-being, and reduce me to my disease...I am the girl with cancer. I wonder now if I've ever treated anyone that way. I've always identified myself as a Muslim, or as a journalist, or as a Midwesterner- a "Columbia girl," or more recently, as Zaied Abbassi's wife. It was so difficult to have a new identity imposed upon me, and to have that identity overshadow all else.
Now when I meet new people or someone comes to visit I wonder how much they've heard.

Mostly what I wanted when people visited me was to be reminded of Allah (SWT). People who are sick are blessed with a reminder of what is truly important in life. When my husband and I were leaving the hospital after visiting the brother, my husband turned to me and said, "Man, I just needed to get out of there. I couldn't take being back in that situation...watching everyone just stand around someone who's so sick and stare." It's true. The staring could get pretty uncomfortable, but so was the overt eye-contact dodging. The truth is, there were lots of small things that peeved me while I was in the hospital, but in the end I knew people had the best intentions, and were truly concerned. I know that each person who goes through a trial is an individual, and has individual preferences...maybe some people out there enjoy being stared at. And perhaps all the small annoyances are just part of the test.