This morning, the visiting nurse found you by chance. You were standing on a street corner in the unseasonable warmth of the winter sun. She swept you into her car, called me, and brought you to my office, transferring you from her car to mine before I whisked you off to the Wound Clinic for your appointment. Magically, we were only fifteen minutes late.
Your open wound looks better, but now that you're homeless I explained that it was now up to you to find me, not vice-versa. You swore up and down that you will follow up and stay in close contact. Your health is precarious and the stakes are high.
Your life is a mess. You're homeless, addicted to cocaine and heroin, no longer go to the methadone clinic, and rarely take good care of yourself, making poor choices under the best conditions. I was very clear with you today that I will no longer chase you down and bend over backwards. You must do some work, show some motivation, reach out and stay in touch.
Did I motivate you? Does the progress we're making with the healing of your wound bring you hope? Does having someone show compassion bring you closer to self-love? I hope so. Your life is as valuable as any other, but you first have to value it yourself.
Tonight you're out there somewhere, hopefully not on the street. There are some harsh realities in this world, and you have been visited by your share of difficulties. I pray that you make some positive choices for yourself. May clarity of mind and a desire for healing plant themselves in your consciousness in the days to come. I won't give up on you, but I place the responsibility squarely where it belongs---on your tired shoulders.
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