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Please Help me I am dying. HOW. No, No, please help me die. Watching someone die is horrible, holding their hand is hard
A creek runs through it
If death is our collective fault. Then we are individually responsible
I hope you have never heard those words. I hope you have never spoken those words. Woe be to me I have heard them and said them. Sometimes I wish I would have died. And I can’t get out of my memory those who did.
I was walking my hike along the canyon. Two days in a row I notice inordinate amounts of garbage down next to the creek. I was quite irritated. No I was mad. Today I stopped to contemplate and listen to a song I call “it is going to be a bright bright sunshiny day, for I can see clearly now”. I studied the garbage far below and suddenly realized the garbage had been washed from the homeless camps during a wicked rain and flooding. What I was looking at were some homes washed away.
I would rather most people do not think of me as a good man. The reason is simple, I do not want to let folks down. But sometimes almost by accident I do good things. After my hike I went to the undercover places where my homeless friends go in times of bad weather. There is an over ramp and a hidden spot next to a malls garbage dumpsters and of course in front of the 7-11s and liquor stores.
How do people without the Spirit handle the finality of death?
Tonight the hand under some cardboard in the alley scared the dickens out of me. Glad I had on absorbent underwear. I eventually breathed long enough to restore my senses and pulled the cardboard away. She clutched for her knife but was too weak to draw it up. She must have been 70. The sickness in my nostrils was not filth or defecation it was an odor I had hoped not to smell again. It is the stink of impending death. She looked at me and squeaked out, I know you, your are the walking man. I dialed 911. I dropped to my knees, I think more in prayer than to get closer. That damn convulsion of a cough when the lungs are too filled with fluid to breathe. I reached for her decrepit hand.
Finally she looked up at me and begged, help me I am dying. I told her I would do whatever I could. I thought she had died, no pulse. Then she opened her eyes again and said, “do not help me to live help me to die” and then she was gone, the 911 only confirming a white 32 year old female had died of exposure. This I knew to be true, but I am not ignorant when it comes to anatomy and bio-mechanics. This woman had been beaten severely in the chest. Her last breathes were depressed on her left side.
We would have called the hermit who lived here homeless
My fault I did not act immediately in the rains. What was I doing, easy chair with a book I guess.
I wonder if she did not get caught down in that flood in the canyon. I know if those homes had an address we would have rescued those folks. I know that a year on the street can age you five. But what I also now know is that I have not seen the last of the stench of dying. I do not even know that nice lady’s name.
A little footnote. The earth conservation folks were around that same canyon today. Spending thousands of tax payers dollar to preserve the plants in that canyon. How sad we did not spend that attention to preserve a human being.
My wife will come home soon and we will discuss. She will look me straight in the eye and say, “for Christ you must do more”. I will get no sympathy. But I will not sleep well on this night.