On Friday evening, I went over to a friend's house who has a very aggressive terminal cancer. I went to help move a hospital bed into his room and break down and remove his bed. We took the mattresses and bed frame out of the room and then realized that we had to clean up the junk that had accumulated under his bed.

We got a large plastic bag and started throwing everything in it: wrapping paper, gift bows, pens, papers, napkins, a pair of scrunched up undies, old newspapers, doll clothing and other random toy parts, pillow feathers, dust, a Rubik's cube... That's when it hit me - we were really in his personal space. I can't imagine how vulnerable, invaded and helpless that he must feel to have someone picking up under his bed. There wasn't anything under there that he would have been embarrassed for us to find, but he should be able to have anything under there without having to worry about someone getting into it.

I have been over there almost on a daily basis since I found out about his diagnosis, but this interaction, more than sitting down with the hospice nurse, more than any other affected me in that it gave me some insight into how he must feel about having people come over and get in his business. He is an intensely private person and now he has been invaded by all of these "helpful" people. We are showing up with food, checking on his health, picking up and dropping off his kids, asking and giving opinions about his plans for the kids, getting involved in his finances, shit that should really piss someone off. I'm sure that he realizes that he has no choice in the matter and that he does need the assistance, but that doesn't make it welcome either.