The Gift of Friendship

Yesterday I was reminded once again of the quiet strength of friendship, when two close friends played “tag team” to help me out.

After a day procedure in preparation for major surgery, the hospital gave me strict instructions: I wasn’t to be left alone (they wouldn’t even let me make a “great escape” on my own) just in case of any reaction to the anaesthetic. Their words were practical, medical, matter-of-fact. But the way that instruction translated in my life was something much more human.

One very close friend picked me up from hospital, making sure I didn’t have to worry about how I’d get home. The first thing he asked, with a half-grin, was whether I was okay to walk or if I was still a bit “off with the pixies.” 🧚‍♀️😂

I had to laugh at that, but was so grateful when—true to his caring, gentlemanly style—he automatically picked up my bag, offered me his arm, and walked me gently to the car.

As a former Wing Commander in the Air Force, he’s been helping me a lot lately, giving both hilarious and serious insights for a veteran-focused resource I’m working on. It’s unique, innovative, and I’m excited for when it’s finished. They even repaired my bike for me in between the COVID-19 lockdowns back in 2020/2021 (I’d been clumsy/tollpatschig and fell off into a large bush), as they knew how much I like getting out for bike rides, and this helped me to stay positive during those difficult times.

Later in the day, another very dear friend took over, staying with me overnight. We call it “babysitting duty,” but in reality, it became a sleepover. We chatted, laughed, and stayed up late enjoying pizza. I feel so lucky that she only lives a ten-minute walk from my place.

I met both of these friends back in 2019 through work, and they’ve since seen me through some of my highest and lowest points: the breakdown of my marriage, the Melbourne COVID-19 lockdown years, the death of my mother, burnout, the ups and downs of love over the last 12 months (I do still care for him, even though things haven’t worked out how I hoped, and I wish him all the best), business plans, international adventures, stepping up as a thought leader in my field—and now, supporting me through this medical journey, and the next chapters following recovery.

And that’s what friendship does.
It transforms.
It takes the ordinary and makes it lighter.
It takes worry and wraps it in reassurance.
It takes a time of vulnerability and fills it with laughter, presence, and care.

Sometimes I think we underestimate how powerful these small acts of friendship are. They don’t need to be grand gestures. We don’t need to see each other every week, nor be in the same location or even the same country to know the bond is strong. Friendship is found in the practical, in the showing up, in the “I’ve got you” moments that remind us we are not alone.

As I rested last night and again this morning, I felt deeply grateful for my two “babysitters” and the kindness that surrounds me.

Friendship, I’ve realised, is one of the simplest—and most powerful—medicines for the soul.