Posts Tagged ‘medical school’

I’ve never given a eulogy before. While preparing for his, I realized I really didn’t know much about him, but felt I understood him. The two words that best described him were courage and character. Not usually the first two words that come to mind when picturing a man who made his home in a drainage pipe for almost 5 years. He never left because he said, “It was a good spot.” In fact, none of the homeless providers knew who he was until the day he came into our hospital complaining of abdominal pain. At the time, it seemed like his life was finally turning around. He had a job. After months of trying, he got a job which required an almost 10 mile walk each way daily. He was saving his money and had an apartment picked out closer to his work so he could, “walk to it,” which always made be chuckle when he said it.

“Courage” describes him so well because the day I met him (in the hospital) was the day I told him he had a terminal illness and only a few months to live. He smiled his crooked smile that I would see so much over the next few months, shrugged his shoulders, and said, “Well, I guess that’s the way it goes….. What do I do now?” At first I wasn’t sure he understood what I just said so I repeated it and his reaction made me understand that he did understand, and simply had a degree of bravely rarely seen. He asked me what they would do with him after he dies. I honestly wasn’t sure so I asked what he would like us to do. He said all he wanted was a box with a cross on it but nothing else. He also told me he was Catholic but hasn’t attended church in about 15 years and wanted to know if it was ok to see a priest.

We told some of the local landlords about his situation and helped with getting an apartment for $250 a month so he wouldn’t have to spend his last days in the drainage pipe, no matter how good of a spot it was. He saw me at least weekly in the soup kitchen and was visited by our hospice nurse much more often in his new apartment. We also arranged for him to go into our inpatient hospice unit whenever he wanted, even if it meant his stay could last months, which isn’t the normal procedure for an inpatient hospice unit. He said he would stay out as long as he could so the people who were sicker than him could have the bed. By making that decision, it meant he would continue to struggle finding food daily, walking miles to different soup kitchens even as he grew weaker. I soon learned that his weekly walk to see me at the soup kitchen was the barometer he used to tell him when it was time to enter the hospice unit.

As time went on he grew so weak he could no longer make the walk to see me, was vomiting all food and drink, and was even having trouble getting around his apartment. Also, the heat broke in his apartment—in January—which he said didn’t bother him because he still had a bed and 4 walls, which is more than he had the last 5 year. With his nurses help, we convinced him to go to the hospice unit and he agreed. He wouldn’t go until he cleaned his apartment, packed up all his belongings, and took it to the shelter to give them to someone who needed them. We tried to talk him out of the strenuous task of cleaning when he was barely able to walk but he wouldn’t hear of it. The landlord was so nice to rent to him at such a low price he couldn’t leave the apartment dirty, he said. When I think of his strong character, I consider that for a man who had so little in life, and was now so close to death, his biggest concerns was for the sicker people in the hospital than he, the other homeless who were more in need of clothes than he, and not violating the trust of his landlord who first showed trust in him.

While delivering my eulogy I looked out in the full seats in the funeral home and was struck by how many people he brought together. All of his caretakers and an old acquaintance from high school came to say goodbye with a priest presiding in front of his beautiful box with a cross adorning the top. In the end, he got all he wanted, and we received a lesson of a lifetime.

-BF

Advertisements

Brett and I had an opportunity to give some education about healthcare for the homeless/street medicine to third year University of South Florida medical students. It was a great chance to talk about the unique qualities our patients on the street possess and how they survive. We were incredibly fortunate to have Tyler Rogers, executive director of Safe Harbor (Easton,PA) speak as well. His passion for helping people end their hopelessness is palpable and contagious. The repeating theme in all of our discussion was the concept that everyone matters. Here is a story of a person Brett met today during street rounds with Tyler. It is a testament to why we do what we do and the courage our patients have that we often don’t appreciate.

” I’m incredibly blessed to have the opportunity for service that my job affords. Today was one of those days that reminds me even more than usual the importance of joyful work. I was doing street rounds today in Easton and one of the homeless people we met tipped us off to a young girl sleeping on the street who just arrived from New Jersey. I found her and it was quickly apparent she was pregnant– 28 weeks pregnant– and fleeing domestic violence from her mother who is a crack addict. Her mother has abused her and her brother since they were kids and she always stayed to try to protect her little brother who is now 17 and an addict himself. She felt the time was right to get out of the situation since she feared for the life of her baby because of the abuse. She came to Easton because someone told her she would find help there. I found her and her boyfriend in an alley and told her why we were there and about street medicine. I wish you could’ve seen the look on her face. She has been in Easton for 6 weeks and didn’t know who to call to try to get help or prenatal care. She didn’t have insurance or money to pay so the plan was to go to the ED when she went into labor so she wouldn’t be turned away.

While I was with her we scheduled an appointment for her in the Center for Women’s Medicine. I spoke with the team there myself and she was treated with respect and dignity every step of the way. Now she is very much looking forward to her first appointment next week. Jen, the Case Manager at Safe Harbor, has started the paperwork for her insurance and her boyfriend has enrolled in their job training program. She and her boyfriend were placed in a home affiliated with Safe Harbor today so they can stay together and won’t have to sleep in the streets.”

Sometimes people ask us how we stay encourage. How do we stop from burning out or getting discourage. The answer is simple – Everyone Matters.