Helping Hand

Although it was so many years ago, I couldn't forget her even if I tried. She laid on the cold stretcher curled up in a fetal position and had a very difficult time making eye contact when I called her name. When she answered, I was struck by the shame and sadness etched in her facial expression. She lifted her face and her eyes were a striking crystal blue but I couldn't help but suck in my breath when I noticed the sheer volume of methamphetamine-induced pock sores invading her cream colored skin. She was covered. And in a split second I knew I was dealing with a woman devoured by illicit drug addiction.

She laid there weak and in pain, her eyes heavy in a drug and alcohol induced stupor. And the smell. Oh my, the stench she put off was enough to make your eyes water and your stomach do a few unruly flips within your abdomen. If I were to guess, she probably hadn't showered in weeks. On her arms were hundreds, if not thousands of track marks and a large inflamed abscess that had formed in anger over a dirty drug needle use, allowing bacteria to invade and enclose the infected pustule. The abscess needed to be surgically cut open and drained followed by heavy duty antibiotics.

For whatever reason, the emergency department was slow that day. We don't like to ever speak aloud the word "slow" or "quiet," as those are considered 'swear words' in the world of emergency. Nevertheless, I had some extra time to spend with this patient and I was glad because for some reason I was drawn to her, regardless of the foul odor seeping off her. I prepped her for the procedure and once the abscess was surgically erupted & drained, I gently bandaged her wound and gave her medicine. She saw my care and tenderness and then finally something beautiful happened. She began to speak.

 "I wasn't always like this, you know," she began. For just a split second, the shame in her eyes escaped and she was deep in memory. She looked older than her 34 years. In fact, she looked about 15 years older and I began to wonder what her life story was to get her here with me, right now. "I never used to drink and I had never tried drugs before." Being a person myself who had never done drugs before, I didn't know what to say so I let her continue, "I was happily married to a great guy and we had our own successful careers. We had the whole thing, you know. The whole perfect little house with the white picket fence. We even had a baby together." I could see myself identifying with this wife and mother who really wasn't that much older than I. I tried not to show my surprise at her omissions but the puzzle pieces just weren't making sense. If she had the entire world as her oyster........and she had what I had right then, a house, a job and a family..........what happened to get her to the place she was now, laying in front of me vulnerable, addicted and homeless?

"Then," she continued her testimony, "when my baby was just a couple months old I found him in his crib. He died from SIDS." My heart stopped for a split second and I felt goosebumps run up and down my spine. Her words seemed heartless and cold as she spoke, an obvious coping mechanism, "I was devastated. And then just 3 months later my husband was killed in a car accident. I was left completely alone." Her words echoed in my spirit and to this day they still do. It was then that I noticed a tiny tear trickle down the side of her pock infested cheek and I gently touched her shoulder. For a second she stiffened to my touch and I wondered if anyone had ever empathetically touched her since that horrific time so many years ago. I told her how incredibly sorry I was to hear that she had gone through such hardships. I surprised even myself how my initial judgment of her seemed to melt away and I saw her for what she truly was: human. She was simply another hurting human being.

Our conversation didn't last much longer as she was more interested in taking me up on my offer to give her a hot shower and meal, but I didn't mind, because I got to see her vulnerability for just a moment....and it was beautiful. But she sure made me wonder how many any of us are close to being in her exact situation if we were met with back to back tragedies. I suppose it's all in your coping skills, but really, whose to say you would be exempt from fighting the demons of addiction?

She did something I didn't expect her to. She thanked me for being kind and I was so incredibly humbled. I bet she hadn't had many people offer a helping hand but for some reason I felt compelled to do so. I initiated a social worker consult who could help her get into a rehab clinic and find adequate housing. But I still felt I should have done more. Truthfully, there wasn't anything more I could do for her, but I still wanted to. And to this day I still think about her. I often wonder if I'll drive by and see her hunched over in some sketchy area of town, or if she met with the social worker and went into rehab. Did she wipe her slate clean or did she dig her own early grave? I'll never know.  

In this world we are all human and we ALL need a helping, loving hand every once in a while. Even if we are covered in drug-induced sores and emit a foul stench.