Update on C.
C came into work yesterday for the first time after several days absentee. She said that she had had her biopsy and they had found two small lesions on her liver. She needs an operation. Sounds like something that many people will, not take for granted per say, but be able to do. For C this is not the case. The doctor told C that she needs to have a place to stay for a week after the operation. This isn’t possible for a woman with no family and no social network.
C tells me of her current struggle not because she is seeking assistance from me, but just because she needs a friend. When she sees the frustration on my face and as she answers my questions about what happens if she doesn’t have the operation (she will die) she tries to make me feel better. “It will work out, don’t worry”.
C went and sat down to drink her daily Ginger Peach tea with vanilla and cinnamon. I was thinking a lot about how much she and T have come to mean to me over the summer. I realized that they aren’t just people passing through my lives. I spend more time talking and being in the same room as them than I do with my friends or family. I realized yesterday that I am beginning to love them.
I decided that I wanted to have C and T over to my house for dinner before C has to have her surgery. I’m not sure how all my roommates will feel about this. I know that three of them will be very supportive, the other two, I’m not sure how the request will go.
I told C of my plans, asking her if it was something that would interest her. As I did I saw tears well up in her eyes. At the sight of this, I too got rather teary. She said it was something she would very much like. We talked about the date of her possible surgery and logistics about how it would be possible for her to get to my house.
After she went outside later that day I was thinking about her reaction to my request. The reason she reacted like she did is because people don’t treat her like a human being. People dine together and talk together all of the time. Even though C and T have had careers and lived the life of the ‘typical’ (ha!) American we as a society have completely dismissed them because of a series of events that have put them at a disadvantage in this work of plenty. How can we be such a shallow society? How can we really call ourselves human and treat each other like this? Why do we not recognize the common humanity of those around us and reach out to people who are in a difficult space.
It is no wonder that people who are homeless appear to have mental health problems. T and I have talked about the stress that comes from living on the street. Can you imagine what it must be life once you lose hope? How can you do anything but ‘go crazy’?
To make the realizations about all of this even more clear, the shop I work at has a series of interesting characters. In contrast to Carrie’s tea I had a customer get upset because he had bought two coffees not realizing we had 50 cent refills. He became frustrated and demanded to cups of coffee for 50 cents each. Goddess, does it really matter?
I was trying to talk to some of my coworkers about all of this. One of them, E, is amazing and one of the most reflective men I have ever met. I didn’t get to finish telling him about all that I was thinking, but he helped me out in the café and heard bits of this story.
Towards the end of the shift he came by with some paperwork he wanted me to fill out: an ‘on the spot’ recognition form for being a good employee. E told me that the reason my tip jar was full and the reason he was giving me this recognition was because of the way I talked to people. E told me that I was genuine and that it meant a lot to customers to be treated to in this manner. I told E that I wasn’t doing anything special, but treating people like I wanted, and expected, them to treat me. He made me understand even more clearly that most people in this country don’t do that.
I find it so funny that we teach our children to share and to follow the ‘golden rule’ yet, as adults, we teach the opposite lessons to our children: it is all about the bottom line and what is best for you. What kind of cognitive dissonance must this create in our youth? I was blessed to have parents that followed the advice they gave me on how to treat other people.
Again, I return to the questions: What kind of nation are we? What kind of people to do we, as individuals and as a society want to be? How, in our daily lives are we living, or not living, in this way? Why is it so hard to let ourselves simply be human? What is life worth if not to interact with and love each other, and not just the each others that can benefit us in some material way?
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7 comments:
I find it interesting, reading this post, how lenses differ: "It is no wonder that people who are homeless appear to have mental health problems."
I remember learning that a disproportionate number of homeless people are suffering from some form of mental illness. And as in the case of the main character in the book The Outsider (did you read that in abnormal psych?), the homelessness came about as an unspeakably unfortunate consequence of the mental illness.
It's just interesting to think of the mental illness as the consequence, and not as the antecedent, of the state of being homeless. It seems so obvious now that the stress could easily wreak havoc, but I hadn't thought it through before reading this post.
It's so touching and so humbling to read all this. Honestly it's kind of difficult.
As always, you are an amazing example of how to live life with grace and love. I hope everything works out for your friends, but on any account, it's clear that they are already better off for having known you. keep paying it forward!
I love and miss you!
cheers,
Jon
As always, you enlighten alot of people with your insights and first hand experiences. I enjoy reading this stories, coz they help put everything into perspective. You are amazing Keesa marie.
krissy,
I think about homelessness all of the time. Where can I sleep, what door can I open, which bench will pass off the headlights so my eyes can shut. But identifying with poverty and truly living it are clearly two disparate concepts. I like what you wrote about C and T and what E noticed about your authenticity. The city makes room for these revelations. They are microscopic and gigantic at the same time when you talk with someone who wanted someone to listen. Passing through the d.c streets, you see at least one homeless person in your view at all times. It is horrible, wretched. We could give so much and people are spending $3 on a cup of coffee. But they "deserve" it. They work hard. Maybe you are the same way as me. It's not saintly, what we think about, or how we want to help people, how all people are exactly the same. It's intrinsic and moving always around in our chest, an undiscovered emotion. This "kindness" doesn't have a name. The letters are silent. I want to talk with you more about all of this. I tried living homeless for a few nights. I could hardly last one night it was so cold. It feels colder because you do not know when it will end.
You must tell me more about your friends on friday. I will check up on here too. Stay true,
your student mollye.
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