🪣 Get the Bloody Bucket: What Caring for Someone Actually Looks Like

One of the more unexpected lessons from my Cancer Adventure had absolutely nothing to do with cancer treatment.

It was about care. ❤️

More specifically, what care actually looks like when someone you know is going through something really bloody hard.

And my own Cancer Adventure wasn't the first time I'd seen this play out.

I'd already watched it happen during my mum's Cancer Adventure.

❤️ When People Show Up

When my mum had cancer, I saw the people who showed up for her.

But I also saw the people who didn't.

People I thought would be there.

People who could have called.

People who could have visited.

People who could have done something.

But didn't.

At the time, I was watching it happen to someone I loved.

Then years later, I was diagnosed with breast cancer myself. 🎀

Suddenly, I wasn't watching from the outside anymore.

I was the person who needed support.

And once again, I saw both sides of care.

There were people who showed up for me in ways I will probably never forget.

💌 People sent messages.

📱 They checked in.

📅 They remembered appointments.

😂 They made me laugh.

🤝 They offered practical help.

Sometimes they simply let me know they were thinking about me.

Some people did things I didn't even know I needed until they did them.

I greatly appreciated every single one of those actions.

Because when life feels completely out of control, even a tiny gesture can make you feel a little less alone.

If you were one of those people for me:

Thank you. ❤️

It meant more than you probably realised.

💔 The People You Thought Would Be There

Cancer has an interesting way of testing relationships.

Some of the people I thought could, should and would have my back simply…

Disappeared.

No phone call.

No message.

No action.

Some disappeared from my life altogether.

Maybe they were uncomfortable.

Maybe they were scared.

Maybe what I was going through triggered something for them.

Maybe they didn't know what to say.

Maybe they had their own stuff going on.

Or maybe they simply chose not to show up.

Ultimately, people get to make their own choices.

But it can be a hard pill to swallow when you're already dealing with something really bloody hard.

And perhaps it affected me even more because I'd watched my mum experience some of the same thing during her cancer.

I'd seen what it felt like from the outside.

Now I knew what it felt like from the inside.

It made me think a lot about what we actually mean when we say we care about someone.

💬 "Tell Me What You Need"

There was another phrase I heard during cancer:

"Just tell me what you need."

Now, I understand the intention behind it.

Usually, what someone is trying to say is:

"I care about you and I'm willing to help."

And sometimes that's exactly the right thing to say.

But when someone is in the middle of a crisis, they may have absolutely no bloody idea what they need.

During cancer, my brain was already trying to deal with:

📅 Appointments.

🔬 Scans.

💻 Research.

👩‍⚕️ Doctors.

❓ Decisions.

🏥 Treatment.

💼 Work.

👨‍👩‍👧 Family.

💊 Side effects.

😰 Fear.

Trying to understand what was happening.

Trying to decide what I should do next.

Trying to continue participating in normal life while all of that was happening.

Sometimes I didn't have the mental capacity to work out what somebody else could do for me, ask them to do it and then potentially organise it.

And this is where the bucket comes in. 🪣

Because the bucket isn't actually something I invented during cancer.

Chris had already taught me about the bucket years earlier.

🦆 The Duck Eggs

Long before cancer, Chris fed me duck eggs.

Turns out, I'm allergic to duck eggs.

We didn't know that at the time.

So after eating them, I became violently ill.

🤮 Vomiting.

Really, really unwell.

We didn't immediately work out what had caused it.

So at some point later, I ate duck eggs again.

And became violently ill.

Again.

Apparently, we needed to conduct the experiment twice before concluding that perhaps duck eggs and I should no longer be friends. 😂🦆

But there's something I remember very clearly about those experiences.

When I was violently vomiting, Chris didn't stand beside me and say:

"Just tell me what you need."

He didn't wait for me to provide instructions.

He didn't need me to explain how he could support me.

He got the bloody bucket. 🪣

Then he did whatever else he could think of to make me more comfortable.

He stayed.

He helped.

He dealt with the unpleasant reality of what was happening.

And I remember thinking, even back then:

This one's a keeper. ❤️

Because I've always thought you learn something important about people when life tests them.

It's relatively easy to be there when everyone is healthy, happy and life is going according to plan.

The more interesting question is:

What happens when things get messy?

When someone gets sick.

When something goes wrong.

When helping is inconvenient.

When you don't know what to say.

When the person you love isn't particularly fun to be around.

Or when they're violently vomiting into a bucket because you've accidentally fed them duck eggs. 🦆🤮

What do you do?

Do you move towards them and help?

Or do you move away?

Years later, cancer was a much bigger test.

And Chris was still there. ❤️

He didn't have a magic wand. 🪄

He couldn't fix cancer.

He didn't always know what I needed.

Neither did I.

But he kept doing what he'd done all those years earlier.

He looked at what was happening and thought:

What can I do right now that might make this a little easier?

Sometimes that was something important.

Sometimes it was practical.

Sometimes it was simply being there.

And during radiation, sometimes it was making sure there was a chocolate Carmelo Koala waiting for me after each treatment. 🐨🍫

Different bucket. Same behaviour. 🪣

Concern translated into action.

And that's when something clicked for me.

❤️ Care Demonstrated = Concern × Action

Watching my mum go through cancer taught me a lot about care.

Going through cancer myself taught me even more.

And Chris, starting with those bloody duck eggs, gave me a wonderfully ridiculous way of explaining it.

❤️ Care Demonstrated = Concern × Action

You can be incredibly concerned about someone.

You can think about them every day.

You can hope they're okay.

You can feel terrible about what they're going through.

You can genuinely love them.

But if none of that concern ever translates into behaviour, the person who needs your support doesn't actually get to experience your care.

Care that is never translated into behaviour isn't experienced as care by the person who needs it.

Concern is something you feel.

Care is something another person can experience.

Action is the bridge between the two. 🌉

That's what I mean when I say:

🪣 Get the bloody bucket.

🪣 What's Their Bucket?

Obviously, most situations don't require an actual bucket.

Thank goodness. 😂

The bucket is simply the action.

And it doesn't have to be huge.

💌 Your bucket might be a text message.

📱 A phone call.

🍲 Dinner dropped at the door.

📅 Remembering the date of someone's appointment.

🚗 Offering to drive them somewhere.

👧 Taking their kids for a few hours.

☕ Dropping off a coffee.

💐 Sending flowers.

🌱 Mowing the lawn.

🛒 Picking something up from the supermarket.

😂 Sending a completely inappropriate meme that makes them laugh in the middle of a horrible day.

Or simply:

"Thinking about you today. You don't need to reply." ❤️

That's a bucket. 🪣

You don't have to solve the problem.

Most of the time, you can't.

You don't need to find the perfect words.

You don't need to know exactly what they need.

You just need to turn your concern into some form of action.

🪣 Imperfect Buckets Are Welcome

And please don't use fear of doing the wrong thing as an excuse for doing nothing.

You might say something awkward.

Your casserole might be terrible. 🍲😂

Your joke might fall flat.

They might already have six bunches of flowers. 💐💐💐

They might not want visitors.

They might say no.

That's okay.

Adjust.

Respect their boundaries.

But there's a big difference between someone saying:

"Thank you, but I don't need that right now."

And you never offering anything in the first place.

I'd rather offer the wrong bucket with genuine care than stand on the sidelines thinking about how concerned I am while doing absolutely nothing.

🌱 Because Eventually, We All Need a Bucket

Here's the uncomfortable reality.

At some point, every one of us will need other people.

You will get sick.

Someone you love will die.

You might end up in a financial hole.

Your business might fail.

Your relationship might end.

Your family might go through something awful.

Or some other horrible shit you never saw coming will land right in the middle of your life.

That's not pessimism.

That's life.

I watched my mum face it.

I've now faced my own version of it.

And there will undoubtedly be other difficult chapters ahead for all of us.

When those moments come, you discover something important about the people around you.

But I think you also discover something important about yourself.

What kind of person do you want to be when someone else's difficult moment arrives?

🪣 My Challenge to You: Get the Bloody Bucket

So here's what I'm asking you to do.

The next time someone you care about is going through something difficult, don't spend three days trying to compose the perfect message.

Don't assume somebody else is checking on them.

Don't disappear because their situation makes you uncomfortable.

Don't wait until you know exactly what to say.

And please don't make someone who's already overwhelmed project-manage your concern.

Instead, ask yourself one simple question:

🪣 What's their bucket?

What is one small thing I can actually do?

📱 Send the message.

☎️ Make the call.

☕ Drop off the coffee.

🍲 Cook the dinner.

📅 Remember the appointment.

😂 Send the ridiculous meme.

🤝 Offer something specific.

If you're not sure what they need, make it easy for them to answer.

"I'm going to the supermarket. Can I drop anything at your door?"

"I'm free Tuesday. Would you like me to drive you to your appointment?"

"I'm making dinner tonight. I'm bringing you some. Any allergies I should know about?"

Although, perhaps don't bring the duck eggs. 🦆😂

Whatever it is, take some form of action.

Because watching my mum go through cancer taught me that people remember who shows up.

Going through cancer myself taught me how much those small actions can matter.

And Chris taught me, long before either of those experiences, that sometimes caring for another human being really can be incredibly simple.

Someone you love is struggling.

You don't know exactly what to say.

You can't fix what's happening.

That's okay.

👀 Notice.

💭 Think.

❤️ Act.

Care Demonstrated = Concern × Action

Don't just tell people you care.

Show them.

And when life gets really messy?

🪣 Get the bloody bucket. ❤️