Whew.

Remember when you were in middle school and your parents sent you off to camp for two weeks for the first time? Personally, I dreaded that day. Two weeks seemed so long. And. let’s face it,  there were an endless number of spiders that could be encountered in 14 days. But off you went and when you returned, you were different. And suddenly, you had lived more in those 14 days and learned more about life, yourself, spiders, archery and basket weaving than you could ever have imagined. Multiply that by a gazillion, and that is what the first three months of full time street medicine in this household has been like.

As you may remember, Brett became full time street medicine on October 1, 2014 as a result of a grant from the Pennsylvania Department of Health. The support and the rate at which the Program has been growing in 12 short weeks is baffling, even by my standards. At the start of the Program, there was a shelter based clinic (Safe Harbor- Easton, PA) and a soup kitchen based clinic (St. Paul’s- Allentown PA) in addition to the separate (but closely related) DeSales Free Clinic at the Allentown Rescue Mission.  In three months, there are now street rounds twice per week – one day in Allentown, one day in Easton, a new clinic at the 6th and Chew St Winter Shelter, involvement of medical students, internal medicine residents, development of a homelessness screening tool, ground work for the opening of new clinics in the Ecumenical Soup Kitchen (Allentown), Salvation Army Hospitality House (Allentown) and New Bethany Ministries (Bethlehem). Not to mention the training for the new Network wide electronic medical record, meeting quarterly requirements of the grant and endless other tasks. In addition, I and DeSales University have taken to a new project by opening a clinic at the Truth Home for Women (Bethlehem) which provides free medical care to women who are recovering from human/sex trafficking.

I have had some time to reflect on these last few months during a much needed break from my teaching responsibilities. However, all that time I envisioned playing board games with my kids and organizing closets were erased by the passing of my dear uncle, the hospitalization of our 7 month old son (who is back to blowing raspberries and trying endlessly get his toes into his mouth), the declining of my most favorite sassy lady- my 92 year old Nana and a slew of other unforeseen life events. In those wee hour moments while rocking a sick baby back to sleep, I get my clearest visions and thoughts.

Life itself is without protocol. I remember being a PA student desperately trying to grasp the concept of electrolyte replacement and management. I remember begging for a protocol. Yes, I know protocols are really just suggestions. Yes, I know we treat people and not number. Yes, I understand that every case is individual. BUT GIVE ME THE PROTOCOL. Mostly, I thought, so I don’t kill someone out of my own stupidity. I needed place to start. Homeless medicine is an amorphous area of medicine. Most people who start out in this field are drawn to the social justice of it all, the simplicity of the system. But they are nervous, scared even. It is so far outside of how we normally practice medicine. Think of a typical office visit- there are front office staff, there is a scheduled appointment, there are people to room the patient. You see the patient and practice within well defined (mostly) evidence based standards of care. You fill out a bill, maybe write out a prescription that will need a prior authorization. Which will then be denied requiring you to either spend an hour on the phone arguing or change the prescription. It may be a pain in the butt, but traditional medicine has structure. It has protocol.

As we are training new providers to volunteer, open clinics and screen patients, I am reminded that this new way of thinking about medicine can invoke a sense of agoraphobia. There are no walls. No documented peer-reviewed standards of care. No protocol. In fact, it is the very opposite of protocol. It is creative, sprawling, think-outside-the-boxy, just-because-its-never-been-done-doesn’t-mean-you-shouldn’ty. This is the origin of the (my) addiction to street medicine.

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