88 Days

I gave a meal to a man in a wheelchair, sitting at a bus stop in freezing rain. It was Thanksgiving day, 2021. He wasn’t waiting for a bus. He just felt safer there, being partially paralyzed from a stroke. He’d been attacked and couldn’t defend himself, over the few dollars. he had in his pocket. Within five minutes of hearing his plight, I just couldn’t turn my back on him. I went to my house and retrieved a heavy, water repellent wool blanket. I moved him to a nearby tree- the only “shelter” within walking distance. Little did I know that day would change both our lives. It would take 88 days to tell the whole story, but, for those 88 days, I took care of him in. a detached garage offered by some passersby. He couldn’t transfer himself from his wheelchair to the couch where he slept. I watched YouTube videos to learn the safest way to maneuver him. Every morning, his bedding, and he, needed cleaning. I questioned my own sanity, as I had no idea how this would end. How would I ever stop? Where would he go when time was up in this garage? I called churches. No volunteers for hands on help. I called veteran’s affairs, as he had served in the Army, decades prior. He didn’t qualify. I called Adult Protective Services. No one, not a single entity could help. He required a high level of care, so, no shelters would allow him to stay. He couldn’t perform his ADLs (activities of daily living) and with no skilled providers on site, he was turned away, over and over, again. He couldn’t ride the bus without someone to wheel him on and off, and when the buses pulled away, the cops wouldn’t let him “loiter.” He didn’t have an income after the stroke took his ability to ambulate. The real kicker? He had been homeless for three weeks. Not years. Not chronically. Three weeks prior, he had a thin buffer between a catastrophe and the streets. Some of us have more, but, eventually, most of us would run out of resources. That he had ran out of everything and was as good as invisible to every organization, every human, was the kind of eye opening experience we stare in the face, once, maybe twice in this life. On the 70th day, I wrote a letter of plea, to be published in a veteran newsletter. I was in the process of writing more for other pubs when I got the call. The public relation’s officer wanted to talk to the author. I was ready for battle. I had named names and refused to censor my article. Instead, this PR officer wanted permission to send my article to Washington. And, fast. I’ll never be privy to the details that ended with a phone call telling me, “He has a bed.” He was admitted on the 88th day to a skilled nursing facility, where he lives today. I see him regularly. He loves bingo, chocolate chip cookies, Doc Martens, TikTok, shaving every morning, fresh sheets, new socks, non-fiction, and knows more about music than anyone I’ve ever met. He made me a better person. And, he did the most incredible act of kindness by trusting me with his life, allowing me to come alongside him and change my own existence in unspeakable ways. Ways that nothing and no one ever has. He calls me Wonder Woman. But, he is the wonder. And, I’m lucky to call him chosen family. Be kind, Warriors.

Daily writing prompt

Write about a random act of kindness you’ve done for someone.

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