Itâ€™s 3:30 in the morning, I canâ€™t sleep, not because Iâ€™m not tired, I am; twenty-six calls in the last thirty-four hours and four hours to go, rather, Iâ€™ve got all these stories to tell and nobody to tell them to. I think I need this blog more than the people who read it.
We go through life pretty much oblivious of the drama that surrounds us. We pass thousands of homes, thousands of people, each of them with their own set of problems and joy. A few minutes ago I watched a man dying. He was a Hospice patient, or so I surmised from the Hospice folder next to his bed. Unfortunately for him, there was no DNR, no comfort One, nothing even in English. His family gathered around the bed, confused, waiting for something to happen. I couldnâ€™t communicate with them. I called the number on the folder and spoke with a hospice nurse. She informed me that the DNR was on file. Great. We took the dying man away from his home, away from his family and dragged him into the rain and to the hospital where he probably wonâ€™t see the sunrise. Problems? Big ones.
A few hours ago I spoke with a woman who has been raped every day for three months by her husbands nephew. The husband allowed it. The woman was forced to submit. Tonight she had enough, tried to end it and the nephew beat her, then raped her. I have no idea how she summoned the courage to call the police. I can only hope she gets the help she needs. More problems.
A bunch of stabbings last night, more car accidents than I can count and the usual drunks and vagrants, all with their own lives, their own circumstances, their own way of coping.
A couple hours to go, I wonder what will happen next.
“Do you miss it?” she asks.
“God help me, I do.” I answer.
” “Same time next week?”
” I’ll be here.”
I leave my therapists office and get on with my day.