I have learned a couple of things over the past few days. One is that do get things done, you must ‘eat the frog first’ – or, in other words, do the thing first that you least want to do.
Another is the Purple Cow theory of marketing. If you want your product to stand out and be a success it must be a ‘Purple Cow’, not another black and white one.
And a conversation I had on my walk with Julie this morning reminded me of another one – ‘the elephant in the room’. This popped into my head because Julie’s farm had been visited by a nice chap looking for old batteries. To speak he had to press a button on his throat, so he sounded a little odd. Julie summoned her husband, whose first words to the poor bloke were: “Lost your voice then?” Straight for the elephant. He found out that the man had suffered throat cancer, hence the hole in his neck and the electronic talking equipment.
It reminded me of trips out with my mother’s late partner, Michael. Michael had chronic kidney failure and was on peritoneal dialysis. This is not as effective as blood dialysis and the un-cleaned out waste collected in his extremities causing infection. To cut a long (and unpleasant) story short, he had lost both legs below the knee and most of his fingers.
The legs were largely undetectable to the public at large because the artificial limb centre in Swansea had fitted Michael out with a sporty pair of legs and he walked about with a walking stick like someone with arthritis. The fingers, however, would often become the elephant in the room. We were well used to them, of course. Something you look at soon becomes normal, however horrid it make look at first. But other people, encountering the amputated stumps for the first time would, usually, look horrified, and then try to cover it up and ignore them, out of politeness or embarrassment.
Occasionally, however, someone would spot Michael’s hands and straightway it would be: “Woah! Look at that elephant!” They would be interested in how his hands got that way and would want a conversation about it. Michael was happy to oblige. It was much, much better than being ignored. I think it takes a certain amount of bravery and interest in humanity to be able to dive in and talk about the ‘elephant’. I’m not sure I could always do it, but I do try to remember that behind every missing limb or facial disfigurement there’s another Michael.
I never thought of it that way, I often tend to take my lead from the vibes I get from people, some you can talk openly and comfortably with straight away, others you just no it is a no go area.
ReplyDeleteI usually trip over the elephants - not always appropriatly . . . open mouth in goes foot - but it is never meant rudely, or unkindly.
ReplyDeletePoor Michael, although it sounds as if he didn't feel sorry for himself. I think Rosie is right I think it is a question of trying to pick the vibes up. I was once horrified to find myself in a queue behind a neighbour who'd just lost her son in a diving accident. I managed to say something and she was simply grateful to have her loss acknowleged as so many people, as was my first instinct, was to avoid her. Good blog.
ReplyDeleteThought provoking stuff. I think I always try to acknowledge grief or disaster, big things like that, as I know how awful it is when people avoid you because they don't know what to say. Makes you feel contagious.
ReplyDeleteSo agree about the avoidance technique. I know it is often embarrassment that causes people to cross to the other side, but I think it's always best to murmur something.
ReplyDeleteWhat an admirable chap, Michael is. I think I would want to ask questions but would be cautious at first.
ReplyDeleteCrystal xx
I try to be sensitive so usually make everthing much worse. You are right about getting used to things though. I had an older relative who lost both legs, and it just wasn't an issue when we were with her, after the initial shock.
ReplyDeleteI try to be sensitive so usually make everthing much worse. You are right about getting used to things though. I had an older relative who lost both legs, and it just wasn't an issue when we were with her, after the initial shock.
ReplyDeletelove your cartoon and do so agree with your blog - it is often better to say the obvious and bring things out in the open. It only works when both the questioner and the questioned are confident and open though. I will remember Michael.
ReplyDeleteYes, I loved the cartoon too. Though, as Elizabethm says, both of you need the confidence to be able to handle thye elephant. Some things you can talk about, others you can't, especially when you don't know the person. I know I have pretended to mishear things or not to hear them at all if I consider a comment too personal. Luckily I still have all my appendages so I don't know what I would do in the Michael case.
ReplyDeleteVery well put. So often the elephant is made so much smaller by simple acknowledgement - not necessarily with words, either. Simple accomodation of the elephant is always the best - when faced with a one-handed dinner guest, make sure his fork is on the proper side and try to sit him on the end of the table that gives him extra space to use the remaining hand with ease.
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