Voie Commentary: How Do We Help Those Who Won’t Help Themselves?

You know when you volunteer at a homeless shelter that there will be things that break your heart. You go into the situation knowing that you will be interfacing — in some cases — with some of the most broken humans in the spectrum of society. And, by “broken,” I’m talking about those who are broken in spirit.

Sometimes, stories are sad, but the storytellers are hopeful. But the shelter guests that I can’t stop thinking about are the ones who seem like they have no hope. They simply drift from place to place. Surviving. Despite, quite frankly, all odds and elements and without any real direction. Existing or, sometimes, in a state of acute decay.

I’ve been taking second shifts at the shelter as needed since November of this year. After you’ve been at the shelter a few times, you get to know names and faces. Sometimes you hear stories and, other times, you piece them together as you interface with various guests week after week.

There’s been a man at the local Hub City Mission Severe Weather Shelter that’s been on my mind a lot lately, to the point of keeping me up at night these days.

This wheelchair-bound man is a diabetic (different from the man I wrote about from the shelter previously, the hopeful Vietnam veteran). I believe that he’s primarily in a wheelchair because of the condition of his feet, likely affected by diabetic neuropathy. The first night I encountered him, he was sitting at a table in the common area, actively bleeding from his feet. He hadn’t even noticed. The volunteer who assisted him noted that the man had already had toes surgically removed and that the remaining toes were in very poor condition.

At any rate, it appears to be very painful. A little more permanent damage each time I see him.

And, each week, this man’s feet continue to deteriorate bit-by-bit. By all accounts from shelter volunteers and staff, he refuses medical treatment. Twice, an ambulance has been called to assist this man, among other efforts made, and they have been resisted.

Each week that I see this guy, his feet are worse and worse. I’ve watched it progress over just this past cold season. The infection risk in the open sores alone must be incredible.

I’m having a really hard time wrapping my head around refusing treatment in that condition. Without a doubt, as this man’s feet continue to deteriorate, he could eventually lose one or both feet. As a homeless individual, I imagine (and fear that) this drastically changes your reality and day-to-day experience.

Is this individual so hopeless that he simply has already accepted the fact that he will lose his feet?

I inquired with shelter managers and staff: What can we do for this man? It doesn’t feel right to just watch someone wither away with more and more irreparable damage as the weeks went by. But ambulances had been called. Resources offered. No help or appointments accepted.

But, even if help had been accepted?

Local charitable meal programs — bless them for their work — aren’t necessarily able to cater specifically to diabetic nutritional needs. As a homeless individual already in a wheelchair, even under the very best of circumstances, challenges abound: Nutrition. Medication. Medical equipment. Transportation to medical appointments. Without a home and place to store things like fresh produce, even in my own mind, the challenges seem numerous and overwhelming.

Some people might question why I write about these individuals in our community. In this case, I simply can’t get it off of my mind. This is a real person in our community and his story isn’t the only one or necessarily even unique. Do we have resources in this community that are truly accessible to individuals like this? I’d like to think we do, but seeing people like this makes me uncertain. Can these efforts be connected with shelter efforts or other homeless programs? I remain unclear.

This isn’t about placing blame — no organization or individual is at fault here in any regard. Don’t mistake my processing for that. But these stories, these shelter guests, are very real people here. And I worry about how the medical needs of the most vulnerable are truly being met and where we, as a community, could do more … if we can.

And yet, how do we convince those who appear to have given up to invest in what is left of themselves?

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As a side note, this column is a good one to mention that the last shipment of socks and gloves that were sent into The Chronicle went directly to the Lewis County Gospel Mission. Thank you, readers. Please feel free to continue to send items. And, if you haven’t looked lately, check out all of the exciting updates from the Lewis County Gospel Mission about their in-progress building renovations and their plans for the future via Facebook.

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Brittany Voie is a columnist for The Chronicle. She lives south of Chehalis with her husband and two young sons. She welcomes correspondence from the community at voiedevelopment@comcast.net.