peace, love & hygiene: vol. 89-

This week, I am reporting as a journalist. I am writing the way Dierdra Humphries taught me to write journalism. I’m going to tell you what happened. You can make up your own educated opinions regarding the facts and observations I share. This is a report you’ll want to buckle up for. I can’t sugarcoat this one.

Traci and I arrived in plenty of time. We ran into Stan and his volunteer, Audrianna, getting coffee at The Congregation on the way to the meet up spot on Woodward. The Stanbulance is still in the shop being repaired. Stan, his volunteer, and an ER doctor loaded up Stan’s van. After we left, It overheated within 2 miles, so we limped back to the spot. The medical team switched to Audianna’s car, and away we went again.

We parked beside a motel and waited for the patient to come outside. Eventually she came out and brought a friend with her. Traci went to the back of the van to get meals for them. I grabbed a couple of ladies Mag Bag’s from the back.

Normally, the medical team rides around in an ambulance. The patients enter the side, and out of respect for privacy (and HIPPA laws) I back away once the door closes. But last night, all the medical equipment was in the back of a car. All the medical treatment happened in the street in front of my van.

The lady pulled her sleeves up and revealed yellow and brown bandaged arms. Stan asked me if I had extra trash bags for them. We did. The medical team continued to unroll long brown and yellow gauze from her forearms. When they finally reached the end of it, Traci and I both gasped. We didn’t want her to see us looking directly at her with horrified expressions on our faces. She had gaping holes all over her forearm. They were all larger than a silver dollar. I had never seen anything like it in my entire life. I am one of the hardest, if not the hardest person I know to shock. I was not prepared. Her skin was black everywhere, like ash. Then they took the bandages off from her other  arm.

Both of her arms looked like she had been held in a charcoal fire. The second arm had breaks in it, so it was swollen, disjointed, and covered in holes and patches of rotting skin. She was only a few feet away from me in front of my van. I could see the expressions on her face. She was trying as hard as she could to be brave, but it hurt her so much. Her friend was there for encouragement and support. Traci and I sat stoic and expressionless in the front seats of the van.

In my review mirror I saw an elderly gentleman roll towards us in his wheelchair. He appeared to be rolling towards us with intent. Traci went back to grab him a meal and talk to him for a moment. She asked if he needed any medical attention. He told her his feet were in a lot of pain, so I introduced him to Stan. He waited patiently until they finished wrapping the first patient’s wounds.  His wheelchair was parked directly in front of Maggie the Van.

When the medical team pulled his socks off, I saw that the ends were yellow and brown. Traci immediately grabbed some clean men’s socks out from the back for him (thank you Bubbleheads!)

His feet had been recently amputated. They needed medical treatment and upkeep to prevent infections.  Stan gave him clean bandages, medical treatment, and vital information. They traded numbers and now he will have an outreach team come check on him on a regular basis. He was happy and smiling when we pulled away, and we rolled back onto 8 Mile.

That was our first stop of the night.

We hit one or two more regular hideouts before I got to enter my first dope den. I never come inside. We always announce that we are there and then people come to the vehicles to see us. A few times I have helped people carry their stuff back, but I never actually crossed a thresh hold before last night. This place looked like an old laboratory or something. I can’t tell. It’s obviously abandoned, and several people lived in the corners inside. We went just inside the doorway. There were a couple of shopping carts, and some pieces of lumber making lean-to forts against the walls. Voices drifted up from the shadows that they would be out soon.

We helped a lot of people at the place, not just the homeless who lived there, but also a lot of other people from the area as well. Eventually, an elderly lady with a cane walked very slowly towards us after speaking with the medical team. She sat on the ground and tried to find a couple of clean outfits to wear while Traci looked for a pair of shoes in the lady’s size to replace the slippers she wore. After she had gotten a few things to make it- food, clothes, medicine, and love; I told her I would help her carry it back to where she stays.

We went all the way to the last doorway. I went inside. She led me to a metal folding chair with a small stand beside it. On the stand was an ashtray and a needle. Someone yelled out, “Is that you, Kayla?!” from behind a partition.

It’s me, sweetie.”

“I need you to please bring me a copy of your book!” some woman yelled.

“I’m on it, dear.” I replied.

“Thank you!” launched from a disembodied voice behind a wooden wall.

WE SAW ANDY!!!! It has been months since we’ve seen the guy. I’m publishing the collection of Peace, Love & Hygiene Reports and Andy is illustrating it.

While we were trolling the back ally meeting up with Stan’s patients, The Girl who Always Reads called me from Andy’s phone. It was so sweet! I adore her. She just wanted to say hello and to let me know where she is staying now so that I can make sure to see her next Tuesday. You know I will!

We saw a few more people, then we headed over to see The Brothers. We couldn’t find 1 Leg, but we found 1 Eye. I found out he lost his eye because he was shot in the face. He has another ongoing medical condition that he hasn’t taken care of in several months. He complained that it was affecting him too much to perform basic survival functions. Stan found him a clinic and a way to it while they talked. 1 Eye is passionate about working with Kyle to get into housing and out of the factory they live in. He’s a very smart guy. It’s impressive how he applied that intelligence into his and his brother’s survival. I like to imagine what else he could do with all that IQ.

We discussed the problem with the drug problem. He longed for the good old days when heroin addicts could do just heroin. Nowadays, it’s mixed with all kinds of crazy stuff. The necrosis has affected everyone. He swears that the drugs from Russia are over here. Several people swear that they have either seen or experienced Krokodil. It is a commonly used street name for desomorphine. It’s another drug with a side effect that blackens the skin and causes chunks of flesh to rot and fall off. If you’re still curious, you have a search engine. Google can tell you everything else.

We hit one more spot where we fed, clothed, and cleaned another 10-15 people. We were cleaned out of food and clothes by that point. Then we went to see one last homeless patient of Stan’s to give her the last fresh Mag Bag.

Finally, we headed home to Whitmore Lake. We didn’t get home until after midnight, and I had a lot to process before I wrote this week.

There were a few warm fuzzies last night. A lot of it was serious. We did what we set out to do, so I will consider it a success.

Because that’s how we do it in Detroit.

Amen.

#peaceloveandhygiene   #magdalenesmission