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Recently, I came across a post in an online group for “older” people. A woman had been hospitalized, had a traumatic experience there, and turned to her friends for help. She’d always been the strong one—the helper, the listener, the one who showed up. This time, no one did.
“Is this too much to expect?” she asked. “Am I being unreasonable?”
Most commenters rushed in with reassurance. Your friends aren’t as close as you thought, they said.
But some of us—including me—said something else: No. Your expectations are unrealistic.
1. You are not entitled to anything unless you have a legal contract.
“Close friendship” is a fuzzy concept. For some people, it means lunch, laughter, and shared stories. For others, it includes doing hard things—sometimes, not always.
Your crisis will not necessarily align with someone else’s availability. People have their own problems. Maybe you helped Mary six times in the past, but now she’s on a cruise, has relatives visiting, or is barely holding herself together. Reciprocity is not a vending machine.
2. Some requests are simply too much.
What counts as “too much” is wildly individual. For some people, visiting a friend in the hospital feels enormous. Feeding a neighbor’s cat? Also enormous—for them.
Once, someone I barely knew asked me to stop at the store and buy her soup because she wasn’t feeling well. I didn’t have a car. She lived in an inconvenient location. When I said no, she was furious. I would have called GrubHub.
A friend of mine donated a kidney. During his psychological screening, the psychologist waited until the end, put down her pencil, and said: “If for any reason you don’t want to do this—even a frivolous one—I’ll cover for you. I’ll say you’re not qualified.”
That woman understood the limits of asking for help.
Here’s the ultimate example. I once looked into assisted dying in Switzerland. The organizations assume you have family willing to travel with you. I’m trying to imagine anyone—friend or family, short of a spouse—who would accompany someone on that trip. International travel. Acceptance of your values. Immense emotional strain. That is the definition of an unreasonable request.
3. Family does not create an obligation unless you’ve built a relationship.
On Oprah’s podcast about estranged families, a psychologist noted that people no longer feel bound by role-based obligations. They don’t believe they “should” attend family dinners—or anything else—just because they share DNA.
That’s not estrangement. It’s a shift in how family is understood.
4. Don’t assume people—especially neighbors—can read your mind.
I’ve seen posts from people genuinely offended that neighbors didn’t guess they needed help.
“I haven’t moved my car in a week,” one woman wrote. “Shouldn’t someone have noticed?”
When I lived in a house with a car, a neighbor once called to check on me because it hadn’t moved. I tried to be polite, but I felt it was none of his business. Others would have been grateful.
If your neighbors haven’t checked on you, they may be respecting your privacy. If you want someone to check on you, make arrangements. Services exist.
Just be aware: if people come to help, you may not get to dictate how they help. I don’t want CPR or a hospital trip. So I’m not putting in that call.
5. Helping is a form of power.
When you help someone, you’re saying: I’m stronger than you on this dimension.
When you ask for help, you’re admitting you’re not.
When help is offered unasked, it can be generous—or manipulative.
I have trouble with downward escalators. I’ve hated them since I was six. On Amtrak, I ask for the elevator or ask a stranger—usually a strong man—to hold my suitcase for me. They’re almost always happy. to help.
So I don’t mind asking for help when I need it. But I know not everyone wants to help, even with tiny things. Once I asked a neighbor to open a jar because I’d seriously injured my elbow. It took two minutes. He did it—and made it clear he felt imposed on.
You are not giving someone a gift when you ask for help. You are not doing them a favor. If it’s something like train assistance, employees have a written obligation. That’s different.
It’s frustrating when you need help and can’t get it. The better approach is planning. The woman who wanted hospital visitors said, “I couldn’t have anticipated a traumatic hospital experience.” No—but you could anticipate that something might happen.
Have the number for Patient Services. Have a lawyer’s name. Ask one friend in advance if they’d agree to make a single visit. Or hire someone.
When I needed a ride home from an outpatient procedure, I paid my dog walker. I didn’t ask for free time.
If your survival plan depends on people suddenly becoming more generous, available, or emotionally capable than they’ve ever been before, you don’t have a plan.
