My partner and I were sent to a well-known homeless encampment
for the report of a seizure. When we
arrived we found a forty-something female who was twitching, writhing, and
awake but altered. She had the
adrenergic boogie working. The story
that we got from bystanders (a nice way of saying the other homeless folk) was
that she was a known crack user, went into the port-a-john for several minutes
and came out acting this way. See? It is such a popular homeless camp that the city provides a toilet. Anyway, her
behavior was such that the normally tolerant group decided that her behavior
was too disruptive even for them. Her
presentation was consistent with mild cocaine intoxication, and we took her to
the hospital.
As she was being loaded into the ambulance by my partner and
the fire department, I grabbed a possession bag and started loading her stuff
into it. One of the firefighters asked
why I was loading up her garbage – half-empty shampoo bottle, a single ragged
sandal, a pair of dirty socks, a dirty blanket, a toothbrush, that kind of
thing. I explained it was her stuff,
thinking it was a thorough explanation.
He shrugged and went on about his day.
It reminded me of a time that I transported a bicycle racer
to the hospital after a crash had busted his clavicle and abraded the hell out
of him. He was riding $10,000 worth of
racing bike and I got the fire department to agree to take it back to their
station so it would be kept safe. If
they hadn’t agreed, I would have figured out some way to transport the bike to
the hospital with the patient. When I
transport someone from their home, I make sure the door is locked. Why would I not do that for all my patients,
including the homeless?
Consider the homeless lady who smoked crack that I started
this post with. Her coat, bedroll, and
hygiene products constitute almost all of her net worth. Those things are all she owns. Leaving that stuff (which I will grant
appears to be garbage to me) on the sidewalk is equivalent to me transporting a
middle class homeowner, but leaving the front and garage doors to their house
open, the gas on, and candles burning. My values of what is worthwhile to keep shouldn't play into it - it isn't my stuff. Just because it doesn’t look as obviously important as a carbon fiber
racing bike or a house doesn’t make it less important to the patient or her
life.
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