Feelings may be more hurtful that facts. If you can’t treat the fact, you can still cure the feeling. This reminds me of a story:
For several days now, Hodja kept his eye on Selim, his neighbour, over the fence. Poor Selim looked worried; all day he paced around the garden, like a bear in a cage. At night too you could hear him walking up and down inside his house, and sometimes coming out into the garden through his creaking door to sit and look at the moon.
One evening, Nasrudin, overcome with pity, put his elbows on the fence and asked:
“What’s wrong, Selim? Are you sick? Did you lose something?”
“Oh, no Hodja, thank you for asking. It is something else."
"What then? Someone you know is sick? Don't be shy, tell me."
Selim hesitated for a long moment, but eventually said:
"Well, the problem is that I owe one thousand dirham to Hassan by the end of the month. I don’t have it. Worry will kill me.”
Nasrudin didn’t say anything. He took his coat and staff and rushed away.
One hour later he knocked at Selim’s door triumphantly:
“It’s done,” he said.
“How? You paid for me?”
“Certainly not, how could I? But I went and told Hassan that for the time being you have no money at all. Now you can sleep in peace. It’s up to him to worry.”