Layers
Jagged Shiprock and uncontrollable sedimentary life
PIE Update
Wow. Wow. Wow.
Most of my excitement this week happened on Tuesday and Wednesday during my time with Street Medicine. I had the tremendous opportunity to work with Dr. Atwell and Dr. Percy in the streets of Shiprock and Farmington. (nothing is amazing about providing care to a stigmatized and forgotten population but I think you know what I mean.)
Street Medicine is exactly what it sounds like, providing care to people who are experiencing homelessness.
On Tuesday I was in Shiprock where we provided spam burritos to about 8 people from the bashes parking lot to the north side of town by the hospital. On Wednesday I was in Farmington where we provided a wider range of care to about 53 people spread out around the downtown area.
The medical student on the team takes on the important job of writing everyone’s name and date of birth down in the holy “green book.” Having a job with clear instructions provided me with the ease I needed working on the streets for the first time. The rest of the team included a family medicine resident who helped with giving out the new bivalent COVID shots primarily. We also had an awesome ER nurse with us who was quick to help when Dr. Atwell was tasked with stitching a laceration to a guy’s eyebrow after taking a punch to the face and dropping him on the hard concrete. Last and most importantly we had masani who is a behavioral health specialist. Masani took on the job of really talking to people which led to tears and a complete change of attitude in some of the people we talked to.
I have always hated it. I have always hated seeing people on the street. I hated that their families were not there to support them. I hated our society had failed these people. Ever since I was young, I had a soft spot for people on the street. My dad often expressed his disappointment in the families associated with the people on the street. My dad always felt the people on the street were abandoned. My dad’s feelings of disappointment stem from the times he and his uncle would go search for another one of his uncles. No matter what, they always seemed to drag him home. My dad grew up knowing this was the right thing to do. Unfortunately, some of the people I met on the street do not have any family to come to pick them up. Unfortunately, some people do not have anyone to come to pick them up because all of their family is on the street with them.
I felt very sad when I was told there are still people who drive around looking for people to beat up. I was very sad to hear that a guy not much older than me spent the past few years in the army serving our country. I felt for another masani who just wanted to get home after not knowing how she ended up on the street.
The people come and go. Back and forth. Sober for a couple of weeks. Bender for the next couple of weeks. People go back to their jobs. Others cannot get a job because they do not have a license. This is what I appreciated most. I appreciate learning about people. Looking on the outside for so long was an unhealthy way to address the sorrow that I had for people living on the street. 5-Star was just right down the road but I never really talked to anyone. I know I was far too young to speak to strangers on the street during that time but after 23 years I wonder why it took me so long.
As much as I have always wanted to help I think I broke through a 23-year barrier at the right time. I do not think 22-year-old Kody could handle himself in the way that he did yesterday. I still have much to learn and room to grow but I feel confident in my desire to continue to help our people on the streets.
Ever since I crossed that Nebraska state line into Whiteclay when I was 11 years old I knew I wanted to help. I think I understood then that change was far beyond me and I think I still understand that now but now I know I can be there for them as a person. I understand we can provide a sense of value to people’s lives just by showing up on a consistent weekly basis to just address anything they want to address. No matter what it’s what we all deserve.
Layers
Years and years, pile and pressure, hard yet stunning
Millions and millions, treat and heal, born yet surviving
Thousands and thousands, stucco and window, two stories yet simple
Hundreds and hundreds, pain and despair, lost yet found
Call it a riddle. Call it a poem. I had a hard week seeing how fucked up life can be. Perspective on life comes in layers. The picture I described in “layers” is something I will never forget.
Love you all.
See y’all next week.
Rope