An attorney I've worked with called late Friday morning. A demented homeless patient had been found living in a culvert, completely disoriented. There was no known family. The small hospital he was at didn't have a neurologist available and they needed one to evaluate cognitive status for legal reasons. Would I be willing to do it?
My afternoon was actually fairly empty, as Fridays tend to be. So he emailed me the necessary paperwork and releases and I set off across town. After the usual COVID swab, then getting lost trying to find the correct room, I was there.
He was in his late 70's. The nurses had done an excellent job of cleaning him up (nurses deserve far more credit for this sort of thing than they ever get). Now he was in a hospital gown and adult diapers, still smelling slightly of urine, mumbling on and off, and occasionally asking me what school we were in.
I examined him, then sat down with his chart and some old medical records that had been scrounged together, looking to make sure the right things had been checked and ruled-out, the usual stuff that's second nature at this point in my career. I filled out a few papers, scanned them with my phone, and sent them off to the lawyer. I was done.
As I stood up to go I noticed a small pile of random objects on a chair in the corner and realized they were what had been found with him. His only worldly possessions, as the phrase goes.
Curious, I looked them over. A few T-shirts, a pair of socks, a metal water bottle and 2 plastic ones, some unopened bags of candy, 2-3 small stuffed animals. Somewhat incongruously there was a framed picture of a group of 5 men, all in 1970's-ish business suits and ties, standing behind a conference table, all smiling. The table had some scattered pens, note pads, coffee mugs, and a telephone. There was no name or date. The guy 2nd from left was the one lying in the bed behind me.
I have more things than he does, but neither of us gets to take them with at the end.
Out of all the items in the small pile, the picture obviously meant something to him. It was about 8" x 10", and certainly not easy to hold on to through all changes that a life of homelessness brings. But of the things that had connected him with who he'd once been, that was the one he wasn't going to get rid of. Even in the waning shadows of Alzheimer's disease he still thought it was important.
It led me to wonder how he'd reached the current situation. But the possibilities are large, varying from bad decisions to just the terrifying bad luck that can hit any of us. I had no way of knowing, nor was I going to guess. That's not what I was there for.
The things in that small pile were the only ones of value left to him. I suspect the photo was the most prized, simply because, unlike everything else on the chair, it couldn't be replaced, and he'd kept it for 40-50 years.
The detritus of a human life.
Heaven preserve us and stop us falling through the cracks in whatever welfare system remains where we live when we reach a life stage where we can no longer care for ourselves.
ReplyDeleteClosing in on 73, I find myself alone in my office on a holiday, half heartedly combing through the accumulated matters and material of a 40 year career, which I think will wind down shortly , tossing that which should be cleared up. I need a smile, Grumpy should supply. Not today , not today indeed. Those were the days my friend, we thought they would never end….
ReplyDeletePhew heavy one, Grumpy. I lost my mom last year and the thing that will stick with me was as she was dying she said, "It wasn't long enough". It sure wasn't. :( May the gentleman you checked in on be cared for until the end of his life.
ReplyDeleteCould the homelessness be the result of being too out of it to do things like pay the bills?
ReplyDeleteThis is a great story. I’ve loved your blog for a few years now, but this story is the one that caused me to comment. I’ve got 23 years as a nurse behind me, 20 of them in mental health settings, and now I’m taken out by long Covid, unable to work for the last 2.5 years. This story is initially sad, but ultimately so wonderful. The man got help. I’ve had so many patients like him over the years. It’s so rewarding when they’re finally placed in a setting that cares for them, and sometimes when we could finally find their families, wow what a great day to see them reunited. Also it’s quite encouraging to read these things from a neurologist, a specialty who often doesn’t want to assist if there’s a lot of psych stuff involved. Your post a few weeks back about arrogant doctors at the drug rep dinner - well it’s simultaneously hilarious and too true.
ReplyDeleteThis is a heavy story... you are a great writer, I enjoy this as much as the comedic bits.
ReplyDeleteMy biggest fear. Great-grandmother, sister of my grandmother, and mother had some form of dementia.
ReplyDeleteI always worry when I lose something. NOT going out in diapers.
I have enough family that I don't fear every being homeless. But the possibility that dementia could be a part of my life is there in the background. Seems a crap shoot when it comes to odds.
ReplyDeleteA most unfortunate story, but well written. Thank you.
Thank you for sharing your compassion. Dementia is a terrifying prospect for so many of us in our old age.
ReplyDeleteThank you for caring.
ReplyDeleteThat hearts my heart on SO many levels. 65 and already have twitches and memory issues. I WAS a Sr Programmer/Analyst before joint issues in my spine and, well, EVERYWHERE brought on Pain Management and eventually, the end of my life in the workforce. Dementia/Alzheimer's scares the CARP outta me!
ReplyDeleteI wish the picture could be made public (via newspaper or Facebook or something) to see if anybody recognizes it. It might bring out someone who knew this man back in the day and cares about him.
ReplyDeleteThank you Dr G.
ReplyDelete