5 Tangible Ways to Support the Chronically Ill in Your World

A Gift for Mom! 🤍

Here’s the thing about being sick, it’s not the sick person’s fault. Right? I mean you pay the three million and seven dollars to take the family to Disney World for Christmas and only four minutes into your trip before you’ve exited the monorail, your child vomits, profusely. At first, you tell yourself it’s just a fluke. It’s all the excitement, or travel, or both. But then things start exploding out the other end and their fever spikes to massive and miserable heights. You eyeball your spouse and have a silent conversation. One of you is taking the vomit-covered child back to the hotel for a day of vomit filled wonder. Your child cries. “There, there buddy, it’s not your fault. You didn’t mean to get sick,” you say.

But what if you’re an adult and your illness isn’t so temporary? Is the world still so forgiving? Do loved ones still volunteer to spend their days trapped in a room with you in vomit-filled wonder?

The answer might be no. In fact, the answer might be more like being told, “It’s your fault” everywhere you turn. So often, these folks go to the doctor only to be handed an antidepressant and told, “Lose weight” They pour their breaking hearts out to family and friends only to be told, “Buy this supplement or exercise more.” They go to church looking for support and encouragement only to be told, “Have more faith!” Everywhere they look, the message is the same. This is your fault. You should be doing more.

I’ve often suspected when bad, painful or unexpected things happen in the lives of others, we are tempted to cast blame as a means of control. If we can somehow make this event or series of events the fault of the victim, then we can rest assured these things would never happen to us. After all, we control our own destinies because we eat more nutritious foods, are better with our money, send our children to better schools or what have you.

Our worlds might spin out of control if we accepted the fact that control is an illusion and no matter what steps we take perfection is unobtainable. Sickness may come, tragedy may strike, and devastation may make its way into our lives. And when it does, we’ll need help, not judgment.

And what is helpful for those in your world who are battling illness on a daily basis you might ask?

Here are 5 tangible ways to support the chronically ill in your world:

Play Chauffeur- I am often unable to drive myself to and from my appointments because of treatments I’ll be having at the appointments. This practical act means my husband doesn’t have to take off work to drive me. It also means I get to enjoy your company during what may be an uncomfortable or scary time.
Donate Blood or Plasma- Each month I receive donor antibodies via IVIG infusion because my body doesn’t generate enough on its own. These donors save lives. Their donations are used to treat over two hundred different conditions.
Cook a Meal- I am often too fatigued or in too much pain to cook. And yet, my family still wants to eat! It’s a tremendous blessing when friends fill our freezer with meals or start a meal in the crock-pot.
Clean the House- House cleaning is the gift that keeps on giving. Not only does this mean your chronically ill friend or family member doesn’t have to strain their body by trying to do the cleaning themselves, they also get to enjoy resting in a clean house. Is there anything better?
Be a Babysitter- We often need someone to pick children from school, drive them to afterschool events or to entertain them during my appointments and rather lengthy treatments. Knowing my children are safe and well cared for allows me to put my mind at ease.

The next time someone in your world gets sick, pat them on the back and remind them they didn’t get sick on purpose. Volunteer to spend a day of vomit filled wonder with them if need be, and then start to work on this list. You’ll be the hero we all need.

So God Made a Grandmother book by Leslie Means

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Order Now!

Stacey Philpot

Stacey is an author, goofball and avid reader. You can find her blog at http://chronicallywhole.com/ where she endeavors to encourage other warriors like herself along in their journey of battling for health and discovering wholeness. She is mom to Hayden and Avery, stepmom to Julie and wife to Ryan (a smarty pants who works at NASA and logs their whole life on spreadsheets and pie charts, true story!) She has a strange affinity for eating whole meals in bed (don’t tell anyone) and is convinced smelling old books will make her smarter.

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

In: Grief

In his last years, Dad spent his days in a chair by the big picture window. From there, he could survey all the comings and goings of the ranch. He watched the weather, the dogs, and our Arabian stallion, Axum, galloping through the pines and calling to the mares across the hill. Occasionally, Dad would alert us that a certain dog had escaped or that a storm was coming in. He was looking out. He was keeping track. He needed help to move even a few steps. At night, my husband or I cleaned him, dressed him, and tucked him into...

Keep Reading

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

In: Grief

Young woman holding red umbrella walking next to canola field

Outside, the sky hung in a thick, dim slab, like a ceiling over the trees that stood crooked in the wind. Not the fresh spring breeze we’re used to in Florida, but the damp, cold kind that makes you pull your coat together with tight fists. I got there right on time, parked in a front spot in the almost-bare lot, and slid my violet boots with fluffy pom-poms onto the asphalt. I braced for the impact of the frigid air and tucked my body inward as I did a little hop-jog into the pub. Once inside, I let out...

Keep Reading

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

In: Grief, Loss

I lay in bed this morning, sweet boy. It is Saturday. Seven of them since you left. Half awake, I turned over and saw Grief staring right at me. She pounced then stood, haughty, on my chest. I couldn’t breathe. She yelled that she would be close today. If she feels like it, she might even be relentless. She is cruel. You were the reason, sweet boy, for me to get out of bed on a Saturday morning. Actually, every morning you were my purpose from the moment I opened my eyes until the moment they shut. I knew on...

Keep Reading

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

In: Grief

They say you don’t know what you have until it’s gone. I found that to be most true when my grandma passed. Like many grandmas, she was the best. She was kind and tender, but firm when she needed to be. She gave her time freely and used her baking talent to bless others. She had little and needed little, yet she had a way of drawing people together. There wasn’t a day I can remember when someone didn’t call her or stop by. She seemed to have all the answers and somehow knew how to fix almost any problem....

Keep Reading

My Parents Will Never See This Face

In: Grief

Woman with sunglasses shown in rear view mirror

You’ve had that moment, right? That moment when you don’t recognize the woman standing in front of you. Her hair is grayer. The skin around her eyes is a bit darker. Even without noticing the small details, that face is different. It’s aged. And as I stared at her yesterday afternoon, all dolled up and nowhere to go, it dawned on me: My parents will never see this version of me. My mom will never get to see hands that look like hers. She’ll never recognize the wrinkles or the sun spots. My father-in-law joked about gray hair with my...

Keep Reading

The Due Date that Never Comes

In: Grief, Loss, Miscarriage

It is not often talked about. I completely understand why, but when going through something so heartbreaking and devastating, women shouldn’t have to suffer alone or in silence. If you’ve gone through it, you probably already know what I’m referring to – miscarriage. It is the reason many couples don’t tell people they are expecting until after the first trimester. It is so unfortunately common that one in four women will experience a miscarriage in their lifetime. According to the National Institutes of Health, 15-20 percent of pregnancies will end in miscarriage, and it is the most common pregnancy complication...

Keep Reading

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

In: Grief, Living

Black and white photo of older man in garden

I was never meant to be a plant person. I’m the woman who can kill a succulent on the way home from the store. Once, a fern sighed in my direction and gave up. That is my spiritual gift. My grandpa Dominic would have laughed—hard. He loved to laugh. And sing hymns passionately in Italian. He was an Italian immigrant who lost his arm working in a mill, and still, he woke up every morning and dressed like dignity itself. He shopped for my grandma. He fixed what was broken. And he tended the biggest, happiest garden you’ve ever seen....

Keep Reading

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

In: Grief

Woman with mother smiling in older photo

Recently, whenever I look in the mirror, I see a strong resemblance to my mother. People always said I looked like her, but I never really saw it until now. I think it may be because you always think of your parents as being older than you are. At the age of 61, I am now only two years away from the age my mother was when she died. The only good thing about dying young is that everyone will remember you that way. I have only known my mom as the vibrant, personable, and active woman she was. Well,...

Keep Reading

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

In: Grief, Loss, Motherhood

Editor’s note: This post discusses child loss Child loss changes Mother’s Day. My 19-month-old, Julia, died suddenly on Mother’s Day in 2024. Three months later, her autopsy revealed she had B-cell Acute Lymphoblastic Leukemia (B-ALL, also known as SUDNIC). Julia died a week after we did an embryo transfer at an IVF clinic in an attempt to have a second child. We found out three days after Julia’s death that the embryo did not make it either. Six months later, we did another embryo transfer that succeeded, and I now have an 8-month-old daughter, Lucy Mei (“Mei Mei” means “little...

Keep Reading

I Miss Having Parents

In: Grief

Grown daughter posing between smiling parents

I have been living with the ache of loss for so long that I truly don’t remember what it feels like not to carry it. Sometimes it rests quietly beneath my ribs, dormant and almost polite. Other times it rises without warning—on an ordinary Tuesday afternoon, in the middle of a coffee line—and cuts straight through me. Today, it was a song. I was waiting for my coffee when “Pictures of You” by The Cure drifted through the café speakers. I hadn’t heard it in 20 years. In my twenties, it meant heartbreak—young love unraveling, relationships ending before they were...

Keep Reading

That Time When My Daughter And A Stranger Taught Me About Kindness

Inspiration

That Time When My Daughter And A Stranger Taught Me About Kindness

A Letter to My Daughter About Christmas Stress

Motherhood

5 Tangible Ways to Support the Chronically Ill in Your World

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Stacey Philpot

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

My Parents Will Never See This Face

The Due Date that Never Comes

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

I Miss Having Parents

Get It Now

So God Made a Mother

5 Tangible Ways to Support the Chronically Ill in Your World

If you liked this, you'll love our book, SO GOD MADE A GRANDMA

Farewell My Father: Walking the Trail of Beauty in Old Age

Sometimes Healing Doesn’t Look Like Moving On

Now that You’re Gone, I Sit In This Waiting Room Alone

She Was the Glue That Held Our Family Together

My Parents Will Never See This Face

The Due Date that Never Comes

Repotting Myself: What My One‑Armed Grandpa Taught Me About Growing Anyway

When I Look In the Mirror, I See My Mother

I Lost My Daughter on Mother’s Day: 3 Truths I’m Believing Today

I Miss Having Parents

Previous Post

Next Post

You May Also Like