Answer the question.

A veterinarian's precision communication softens the blow of euthanasia. A few days ago, Randy and I made the painful decision to euthanize our beloved 12 year-old Boxer, Silk. She was diagnosed in the Spring with lymphatic cancer and, after five months of chemotherapy, she lost the battle. Making the decision to euthanize her was agonizing for us because, other than a growing tumor that was beginning to restrict her airway, she was in every way "herself." But when the vet told us that she was 24 hours away from great suffering, we decided to end her life that day. We were (and still are) heartbroken. As we came to our decision, we were full of questions: Could she have just one more good day or week? Would the last chemo drug suddenly start to reduce the tumor? Will she feel betrayed? Will we be able to forgive ourselves? At the core of all our questions was just one, though: are we doing the right thing? And it was exactly that question that our vet heard and answered through our tears, in the moments before she injected the fatal drugs. "Don't you ever feel that you have made a bad decision," she said, "this is the right and selfless thing for you to do." In media trainings, I tell clients that if you don't answer a question, it will be repeated until you do. (You've seen this every time a politician slips around a question and bridges to a pre-fab message point that has nothing to do with the question.) Excellent communicators, like our vet, not only answer questions, they recognize them.

Thank you.

I'm reminded of the elegant power of a snail-mailed "thank you."
I'm very lucky to have wonderful friends. And, probably like you, I sometimes take them for granted. In the past month or so, Randy and I have been super busy with work projects, dealing with one of our dogs in chemotherapy, household repair issues and moving my mom from an independent apartment into assisted care. During all of this turmoil, several friends – and even the "Visiting Angel" we hired to look in on my mother as she was making the transition – made wonderful gestures of support. Minty hemmed new curtains for mom's room. Diane worked her carpentry magic on a computer desk that needed to be re-sized for the tiny space. Maryellen fixed my broken tooth in a pinch. (Yes, she is a dentist!) The caretaker wrote us a note re-assuring us that we had made the right decision. When the dust settled, I took some time to write each of them a little note expressing my thanks. They were the old-fashioned kind, with ink and paper and a stamp. I can't describe how moved I was by several of their reactions. They seemed surprised and, well, grateful. We had reconnected, remembered why we value our friendships so much. When I give lectures at universities and luncheons, I often caution that we professional communicators frequently fall into the trap of "writing it down, printing it up and passing it out," failing to connect individually and meaningfully with members of our target audiences by relying on mass-mailings, mass advertising, mass E-mailings and such. For my part, I'm going to invest in a big box of thank-you cards and a shiny new pen.