Perilous days...Mythic journeys
Last night, the events of the week, the deadline I missed, the strained series of days, caught up with me. I couldn't sleep, I was focused on preparing for "the future". Things like cleaning my house, washing my dogs, making final edits, preparing for out of town guests, yet another looming deadline or two...
It seems it was a hard night for a few other folks too.
Early early this morning, someone tried to kill himself by jumping from the top floor of the St. David's Episcopal church parking lot onto the labyrinth below. He jumped from a distance of about 100 feet and the guy wires caught him, held him for a bit until he fell another 10 feet, to land in the middle of the labyrinth.
I imagine looking from the top floor of the parking garage, death by labyrinth seemed like a romantic idea. Falling into the middle of the mythic journey and all. Still, I couldn't help but feel like the labyrinth did just as myth foretells. It leads, they say, to a new path, a new view on the world, a place you didn't expect. This was indeed where the jumping person landed.
Later at Trinity Center, things continued in their rickety, perilous way. It was quiet. When things are quiet at the homeless center, you can bet something big is brewing, something that will require some fortitude. I hate it when I'm right.
Andy came in (not his real name of course). He's tiny, has Parkinsons, few teeth, only possessions are a coat, a blanket and a big heart. He didn't look good. I made him some oatmeal, two servings, found him a power bar, he'd already eaten the standard issue breakfast, boiled egg, cheese stick and a pear.
Andy ate , then he slept, and slept and slept. He wheezed. His chest rattled.
I thought about calling EMS, I called Adult Protective Services, the adult version of CPS. They had me fill out a form online. I called the social worker at the ARCH who told me to get him to the clinic when it opens at 1.
I woke Andy up and told him we were going there, he said okay and went right back to sleep.
For most of his life, Andy has had his brother, also tiny, and slightly disabled, and currently in jail for stealing a computer. ( I don't think either of these men could lift a computer, not possible, but without a lawyer....) So Andy's been alone. Mental illness, physical disability, loneliness, it's gotta be hard for a guy to keep his attitude up, but Andy mostly can do that.
Today, Andy just slept. I roused him at 12:45 and we walked down the hill to the ARCH. After an hour in the waiting room, he saw the Dr. She is a gentle, Indian woman, with a warm, smooth manner. The Dr. sent him to the E.R. for tests and labwork, but before he left she introduced Andy to the social worker who he'll meet with when he gets out.
So, tonight, instead of the cold sidewalk, or a downtown parking garage, Andy gets to sleep in a warm hospital room.
Maybe like the guy who jumped onto the labyrinth, Andy gets to start on a new journey tomorrow too.
It seems it was a hard night for a few other folks too.
Early early this morning, someone tried to kill himself by jumping from the top floor of the St. David's Episcopal church parking lot onto the labyrinth below. He jumped from a distance of about 100 feet and the guy wires caught him, held him for a bit until he fell another 10 feet, to land in the middle of the labyrinth.
I imagine looking from the top floor of the parking garage, death by labyrinth seemed like a romantic idea. Falling into the middle of the mythic journey and all. Still, I couldn't help but feel like the labyrinth did just as myth foretells. It leads, they say, to a new path, a new view on the world, a place you didn't expect. This was indeed where the jumping person landed.
Later at Trinity Center, things continued in their rickety, perilous way. It was quiet. When things are quiet at the homeless center, you can bet something big is brewing, something that will require some fortitude. I hate it when I'm right.
Andy came in (not his real name of course). He's tiny, has Parkinsons, few teeth, only possessions are a coat, a blanket and a big heart. He didn't look good. I made him some oatmeal, two servings, found him a power bar, he'd already eaten the standard issue breakfast, boiled egg, cheese stick and a pear.
Andy ate , then he slept, and slept and slept. He wheezed. His chest rattled.
I thought about calling EMS, I called Adult Protective Services, the adult version of CPS. They had me fill out a form online. I called the social worker at the ARCH who told me to get him to the clinic when it opens at 1.
I woke Andy up and told him we were going there, he said okay and went right back to sleep.
For most of his life, Andy has had his brother, also tiny, and slightly disabled, and currently in jail for stealing a computer. ( I don't think either of these men could lift a computer, not possible, but without a lawyer....) So Andy's been alone. Mental illness, physical disability, loneliness, it's gotta be hard for a guy to keep his attitude up, but Andy mostly can do that.
Today, Andy just slept. I roused him at 12:45 and we walked down the hill to the ARCH. After an hour in the waiting room, he saw the Dr. She is a gentle, Indian woman, with a warm, smooth manner. The Dr. sent him to the E.R. for tests and labwork, but before he left she introduced Andy to the social worker who he'll meet with when he gets out.
So, tonight, instead of the cold sidewalk, or a downtown parking garage, Andy gets to sleep in a warm hospital room.
Maybe like the guy who jumped onto the labyrinth, Andy gets to start on a new journey tomorrow too.
Labels: homeless
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