A Dilemma That Repeatedly Shocks My Conscience

I was busier than all get-out today, and this is something one can usually count on when one is engaged in assisting those who are currently without - or are rapidly approaching - homelessness. As I worked to complete the details in getting the family I met yesterday ready for travel today, I received a call from a woman - "Carol" - who had just found herself homeless as a result of her SSDI funds running out before the days in the month did. Now this is not uncommon for a great many people who receive the paltry $640 a month provided to them by SSDI, especially when they are unable to find low-income or affordable housing. Most of these folks are then usually forced to wander the street, head to the mission, or crash with friends or family members until their checks come in, when they start the motel or boarding room cycle all over again. It's a bitch to do it this way, as you might imagine, since not only do you face the prospect of living homeless for a part of each month, you've also got to cart your accumulations with you wherever you go when you're on the street. Most folks who are able to call even a hotel room home for 20 or so days each month often collect things they need and/or want, then have to figure out what to do with them for the week or 10 days they'll be without the safety and protection afforded to them and their "stuff." Imagine that for a moment - every month having to pack up everything you own and carry it with you, on foot or by bus, guard it while you're waiting for your money to come in, and keep it in good condition while you drag, lug, jostle and carry it around with you. I'd wager that most of you reading this post couldn't even carry all the clothes you currently own in one trip somewhere, let alone all the things that are precious to you. You can surely realize what a target this makes someone on the street as well, and there is no shortage of predators out there who would and do victimize people like this; they are easy targets and get very little protection from those we count on in society to provide that protection for us. So today I listened as Carol told me that she'd been living in a motel room over in East Nashville but had run out of money and couldn't pay any more rent on her room. The owners and managers of these hotels and motels catering to the poor are not very understanding about people staying in their rooms when their bills aren't paid, and they have not a qualm one about tossing the folks into the street - happens all the time - and they don't give two shits whether you'll be able to "pay em on the first," either. Something else that frequently happens in these situations is that the person about to lose the room races around town on the day they're supposed to leave, trying desperately to beg, borrow or bum the money for another night, winds up unsuccessful in the effort, returns to get their stuff from the room and finds that they've been locked out of the room and their stuff has been placed in some prominent public location, with predictable results. Trust me when I tell you that this is the norm rather than the exception. What makes Carol's tale stand out from the crowd is the fact that she's in a wheelchair - been there for 22 years - and cannot get around without it. Some folks who use wheelchairs can walk for short distances or with the aid of a walker, crutches, or a cane. Carol cannot use any of these ambulatory aids and is wheelchair bound. This is a real problem, since the women's mission is not wheelchair accessible. Got that? Let me repeat: THE WOMEN'S MISSION IS NOT WHEELCHAIR ACCESSIBLE. Okay, so that isn't going to work. Wait - the Guest House - Charlie Strobel's place will certainly understand this situation and we should be able to get her into the Guest House until we can find something better. But to access the Guest House, you've got to typically have a police officer sign your person in. Thank the Gods for Lt. Swisher - whom I called immediately. The Guest House is not Wheelchair accessible. Got that? Let me repeat: THE GUEST HOUSE IS NOT WHEELCHAIR ACCESSIBLE. That was it. That is all there is in Nashville for "immediate access" emergency shelter. I had no other real options for her besides calling churches. None at all. I wanted to cry. All I could think of was this poor woman, sitting in her wheelchair under an overpass, watching the traffic of people and families flying by, on their way to parties and events that flood Memorial Day weekend, the kickoff to those great, carefree summer days. I felt so guilty I was ashamed and embarrassed. I thought of my mom after she'd had a cerebral aneurysm that left her hemiplegic and completely disabled. I recalled how difficult it was for my mom to function in a home that was set up to accommodate her disabilities. My soul was absolutely sickened at the thought of Carol out on the street trying to fend for herself while I spent the weekend indulging in my housed pleasures, cruising on my bike and my boat with my wife, eating buckets of chicken, grilling fat steaks and drinking ice cold water whenever the urge struck me. Can you imagine how enraged you'd be at me and our system of supposed safety nets if this was your mother who was in a wheelchair and called me with this problem and all I could do was to give her the number to a local church that I thought might be able to pay for a few days in another hotel for her? I can understand the reluctance of folks to provide help to those folks who drink or drug away their checks; it's a choice they make when they pick up that pipe or bottle and I've been taught just like the rest of America that when you make your own bed, ya gotta lie in it, no matter how uncomfortable it might be. But this "tough love" approach doesn't apply here. Thankfully this story has a happy ending. It turns out that someone at the clinic she was at heard her while she was on the phone with me and they contacted their church, who graciously set Carol up for two weeks in a motel, so Carol will be okay until her check gets in, at least for this month. As thrilled as I am for Carol at the moment, I'm utterly disgusted and angry at myself and our community for not being able to immediately and without barriers or obstacles assist Carol and anyone else like her. That we cannot access immediate shelter for someone who, through no fault of their own - whose health precludes them from the standard resources - is a shameful disgrace. That we have to depend on the charity of faith-based organizations to protect by far the most vulnerable people in our society is an embarrassing testament to the hypocrisy of our supposed advanced status as compared to other nations, as well as an embarrassing and heartwrenching failure of our healthcare system and our government's ability to protect her citizenry in this country. You'd better hope YOU or one of your family members isn't in a wheelchair and on a fixed income here in Nashville. There's a goddam good chance that at some point in their lifetime, they'll be left sitting in their chair under some bridge overpass for days on end, sleeping with one eye open while waiting for the mail to come.