A Prayer Answered (Randyjw; May 30, 2017)
I feel very forsaken and forgotten, alone and lonely, in this latest episode of my life’s journey. But, I know that my prayers, both large and small, have been answered.
One, that I’ve gotten to know the real meaning of love, and to have experienced its expression.
Two, some of the smaller, day-to-day acts of kindness that are also a part of its expression.
I have a sore and hoarse throat and cold, queasiness, and a general, overall fatigue with under-the-weather feelings which accompany this type of sickness. But, it has kindof settled, extremely heavily, in my lungs and chest. I felt that being left outside in the elements in this condition was almost akin to a death knell for me. But, that didn’t happen.
Instead, I was allowed a reprieve and a sheltered stay, later on this evening and for a couple of days further in a shelter. I haven’t always been outside this entire time — hence the sometime electricity to charge my phone(s) and continue these posts.
I also take advantage of the services of an extremely helpful soup kitchen, which provides services beyond a daily meal, which is generous beyond imagining. They help people obtain documents which may have been lost during a homeless person’s odyssey, such as a birth certificate, the costs of which are being absorbed and privately funded; being a central meeting place for external services, such as the people who come by to provide the free phones. I’ve also met with someone (all volunteers) who processed my application for food stamps and Medicaid. I’d thought I could now get Medicaid due to my work accident and recent disabling condition, but the food-stamp people apparently don’t consider it enough of a disability to keep me out of the work force completely, and so have denied me the Medicaid portion of the application, for which all this time I was kindof counting on as my panacea to take care of my tumor.
Meanwhile, I had been to a doctor’s office to which the front desk workers told me the doctor will do pro bono work, but under the aegis of the Health Department, to which they’d verbally referred me. I had gone there, but they had given me a list of documents needed so lengthy, difficult to procure, and cumbersome, that I couldn’t really follow-through, at the time. Like, a birth certificate, etc. Now, through the soup kitchen, I can get my birth certificate.
But, now that it seemed I could possibly qualify for Medicaid since my recent disabling incident, I was kindof counting on that. I had filled out the application, and only needed to copy the documents to send, but extenuating factors kept intervening. I got sick or had other body-based issues; costs were mounting but financial resources were being depleted… it kept being one thing after another to prevent me from sending it off.
But, the volunteer at the soup kitchen who did my foodstamp application was filling-in for another person, who normally does them and is out with an injury. She is a liaison for a medical hospital group and signs people up for their services. I did that. I’m not sure exactly what it is, and I did briefly see that I’d still be liable for any and all medical bills incurred, but later someone mentioned that it’s on a sliding scale, so you pay according to income and those without income wouldn’t need to pay. That doesn’t make me feel good, especially since I also briefly read in the flurry of paperwork, that I couldn’t be the recipient of care from the medical agency that, apparently, does provide free services. I’d rather receive services that are provided and meant to be free of charge, rather than wrack myself up in financial debt, even if it is absolved. Gosh. But, this is what transpired, and what’s done is done. It will take several weeks to go into effect, I’ve heard. Meanwhile, my tumor seems to have spread and grown, kindof going inward. I do need to have something done about it and I kindof don’t feel well…
When I made the phone calls to the American Cancer Society under their Road to Recovery program for the ride for the homeless cancer patient, I mentioned my own tumor and asked about clinical trials that might be ongoing in the area. They said they need a specific diagnosis, and that they really didn’t have a way to go through all the individual trials, since there could be “a thousand”. I recall having read about the specifics of all different trials when I was doing my own “research” on cancer, years ago. I think it was the National Institutes of Health, but I can’t recall. I have relatively little left of my belongings, including intellectual work/research, due to my homeless state. This photo was work I had to let go of, because I couldn’t carry it with me:
I was a bit dismayed at the lack of cohesion and professionalism I found at ACS. Several specialists thanked me for giving the requisite four-day notice; then, it seemed the request hadn’t been processed; then, they said they hadn’t had enough time to alert any volunteers over the Memorial Day weekend. They did say they would issue a special pickup by cab for the girl, in the end, and that was nice, but it did take an inordinate number of calls to follow-through to make sure this all would happen.
I wrote an email to the Trump team to see if they could assist in getting much-needed supplies, like towels and toiletries, to the shelter. They have a shortage. I presently use my own towel and sheet to alleviate the shortage, but they lock bathrooms, which are often toilet-paper-free, anyways; cut dishtowels in halves or quarters; and I recently overheard someone saying they could crack the hotel-sized bars of soap in half and give us just the half (I have plentiful of my own toiletry items with me). I took a photo! Look:
I went to my outdoor sitting/sleeping spot to catch a few winks while awaiting my entry-time later to the shelter (they kick people out during the daytime) and fell asleep on my coverlet. I distinctly felt that, at one point, I’d just been hugged, as the sunshine warmed my face and tried to dry my nasal cold.
When I woke up, I found that someone had come by and placed these bottles of water next to me. Just earlier, I had been lamenting the fact that I often forget to fill my water thermos when I have the opportunity to do so, just like I had forgotten to do so earlier. So, I wished that I had had some water! And, look!
I hope you’ll forgive my distractedness and forgetfulness. I have a constant lack of sleep and my focus is a million places at once.
My battery on this phone is now at 2%, so I must go, now. Take care, be well, and shalom!