People ask the question with good hearts.
“What can I do?”
“How can I help?”
And I believe them when they say it. I really do.
But when someone is sick—chronically sick, seriously sick, cancer-sick—being asked how to be helped can feel like one more responsibility added to a body and mind already running on empty. It requires planning. Explaining. Translating pain into instructions that make sense to people who aren’t living inside it.
So if you love someone who’s sick and you’re not their partner or their day-to-day caretaker, this is for you. This is how you help without asking them to carry you too.
You Don’t Need Perfect Words
Let’s start here.
You do not need the perfect sentence.
You do not need to be uplifting or inspiring or positive.
You do not need to find meaning in someone else’s suffering.
You just need to be real.
Silence, when it stretches too long, can feel like abandonment. Especially when illness becomes routine. When updates slow. When there’s no big news to share. When surviving becomes repetitive and quiet.
A simple message—
“Thinking about you today.”
“No need to reply.”
“I’m still here.”
—can anchor someone more than you realize.
Feed Them. It Matters More Than You Think
If you don’t know what to say, feed them.
Not as a dramatic gesture. As a practical one.
When you’re sick, eating is work. Deciding what to eat is work. Grocery shopping is work. Cooking is work. Even asking for help with food can feel like too much.
This is where you come in.
Uber Eats DoorDash Grubhub Instacart Grocery gift cards
A message that says, “Dinner is covered tonight,” removes an entire burden. It’s care that doesn’t require conversation or gratitude or emotional energy.
It says: I see the invisible labor. Let me take this one.
Send the Message Anyway
A lot of people stop reaching out because they’re afraid of saying the wrong thing.
So they say nothing.
But nothing can hurt more than imperfect words ever will.
You don’t need to check every box. You don’t need to ask for updates. You don’t need to fix anything.
Just show up in their notifications. Remind them they are still held in other people’s lives.
Especially on the quiet days. Especially after the initial shock has passed. Especially when everyone else has moved on.
Don’t Disappear When It Gets Long
This is the part no one prepares you for.
Illness is not just the diagnosis.
It’s the months. The years. The long middle.
This is when casseroles stop coming. When check-ins slow. When people assume someone else has it covered.
This is when staying becomes an act of love.
You don’t need to be constant. You just need to be consistent.
Care is not loud. Care is showing up again after you already have.
Respect Energy Without Taking It Personally
If plans are canceled.
If replies are short.
If days or weeks go by without a response.
It is not rejection.
Illness steals energy first. Then patience. Then words.
Stay anyway.
Let your support be something that doesn’t require performance in return.
Do Something With the Urge to Fix
Many people want to do something—anything—to make it better.
Here’s where that energy belongs.
Donate to research organizations Share fundraisers that support actual science Advocate for women’s health funding Talk openly about early symptoms Support better care, better trials, better outcomes
Hope should not live solely on the shoulders of the sick. Progress should not depend on how positive someone can be while suffering.
Small Things Add Up
These are not small to the person receiving them:
A grocery card A meal delivered without explanation Remembering important dates Checking in again Not expecting updates Letting someone be angry, numb, or quiet
Love does not have to be loud to be life-saving.
If You’re Wondering If You’re Doing Enough
If you’re still reading, you care.
Care looks like staying.
Care looks like learning.
Care looks like easing the load in ordinary ways.
You don’t need to fix the illness.
You just need to help make the days livable.
And that matters more than you know.
Mojo POV 🐾
I watch the people who show up.
The ones who send food.
The ones who send messages without needing answers.
The ones who don’t leave when things get heavy or repetitive or quiet.
They help more than they realize.
I make sure of that.
Subscriber Note
If this helped you understand how to show up for someone who’s sick, please share it.
And if you’re on the receiving end of this kind of care—seen or unseen—you belong here too.
💗
Mojo & the Mess
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