therealljidol Season 9 Week 3-Another Castle
“What’s that smell?” someone says from the office across from mine. My nose twitches and the rank odor of unwashed clothes and flesh coated with days, or maybe weeks, of sweat and dirt makes its way to my office.
“Ugh! Can’t we get him out of here?” I hear from someone toward the back of the building.
My phone rings. “It’s Sam again.” I hear the receptionist’s voice in my ear.
I make my way to the front reception area. The smell of alcohol mingles with the rest of the unpleasantness.
“Sam, you’re back again?”
“Yeah. Too many rules.”
I shake my head. It’s cold out. I wonder where Sam has been and for how long he’s been on the street.
“Where have you been Sam?”
“Around.”
Sam has walked out of the veteran’s shelter yet again. Efforts to get him sober have failed. How he got back is a total mystery. 65 miles is a long way to travel when one has nothing. A case manager has called one of my staff saying they have washed their hands of him.
“But Sam, you were safe. You had food and people to talk to. What’s up?”
“I couldn’t drink. No one can tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m 65 years old and if I want to drink I am gunna drink.”
“Sam, we might not be able to find you a place to live for a little while. What are you going to do?”
“I’ll be ok.”
I go home wondering where Sam will be that night. Will someone hurt him? Will he fall? Will he be too drunk and pass out and die of hypothermia? All sorts of scenarios run through my mind. The shelters are full. We can’t pull out our magic wands and make Sam warm and cozy.
The next day Sam is sitting in the foyer when the office opens. We breathe a collective sigh. Who else will look out for him if we don’t? He makes his choices and he has to live with them. We can’t save him, but we can try to keep him from himself.
Calls are made to the social worker at the V.A. to get his Social Security check transferred back to our office so we can resume being his representative payee. This is probably the third time we’ve gone through this process so it’s routine by now. Calls are made to what many would consider slum landlords but oftentimes they are the saviors for people like Sam. We found a room. We tell Sam when to meet the owner of a house where some of our other consumers live. We pray he shows up at the appointment. We make calls to see if the clothes and other things that Sam has abandoned at the shelter can be transported back so that he will have something to wear until we can get him new ones.
Sam is sitting in the foyer the next day. The landlord has agreed to rent the room to Sam. To others it might seem like a dump but when someone has been wandering the streets, cold and hungry, it must seem like a castle. We can only hope that Sam will stay put for a while. Castles are hard to find these days.
Thanks to all who voted for me last week! I appreciate your support! I hope you will read the other wonderful entries this week!
“Ugh! Can’t we get him out of here?” I hear from someone toward the back of the building.
My phone rings. “It’s Sam again.” I hear the receptionist’s voice in my ear.
I make my way to the front reception area. The smell of alcohol mingles with the rest of the unpleasantness.
“Sam, you’re back again?”
“Yeah. Too many rules.”
I shake my head. It’s cold out. I wonder where Sam has been and for how long he’s been on the street.
“Where have you been Sam?”
“Around.”
Sam has walked out of the veteran’s shelter yet again. Efforts to get him sober have failed. How he got back is a total mystery. 65 miles is a long way to travel when one has nothing. A case manager has called one of my staff saying they have washed their hands of him.
“But Sam, you were safe. You had food and people to talk to. What’s up?”
“I couldn’t drink. No one can tell me what I can and can’t do. I’m 65 years old and if I want to drink I am gunna drink.”
“Sam, we might not be able to find you a place to live for a little while. What are you going to do?”
“I’ll be ok.”
I go home wondering where Sam will be that night. Will someone hurt him? Will he fall? Will he be too drunk and pass out and die of hypothermia? All sorts of scenarios run through my mind. The shelters are full. We can’t pull out our magic wands and make Sam warm and cozy.
The next day Sam is sitting in the foyer when the office opens. We breathe a collective sigh. Who else will look out for him if we don’t? He makes his choices and he has to live with them. We can’t save him, but we can try to keep him from himself.
Calls are made to the social worker at the V.A. to get his Social Security check transferred back to our office so we can resume being his representative payee. This is probably the third time we’ve gone through this process so it’s routine by now. Calls are made to what many would consider slum landlords but oftentimes they are the saviors for people like Sam. We found a room. We tell Sam when to meet the owner of a house where some of our other consumers live. We pray he shows up at the appointment. We make calls to see if the clothes and other things that Sam has abandoned at the shelter can be transported back so that he will have something to wear until we can get him new ones.
Sam is sitting in the foyer the next day. The landlord has agreed to rent the room to Sam. To others it might seem like a dump but when someone has been wandering the streets, cold and hungry, it must seem like a castle. We can only hope that Sam will stay put for a while. Castles are hard to find these days.
Thanks to all who voted for me last week! I appreciate your support! I hope you will read the other wonderful entries this week!