And then we left to go home.
As we were turning onto the main road that goes from our friend Tara's to our apartment, Jeff noted that it was 9:45. He is usually in bed by 9:30 at the latest, depending on what symphony or chorale on YouTube performance might have him stuck to his chair, so his note of the time didn't mean much to me other than he was up later than usual on a work night.
And then we came around a bend in the road.
Jeff said, "What's that in the road?" and my eyes immediately tried to find what he was seeing. I slowed down a little and soon saw a large black lump laying across the far right lane of a four-lane street. As we got closer, I started to make out the shape of a man's hips, shoulders, and head. I don't remember which curse word came out, but I know I said one, followed by, "That's a person!"
My mind stopped working. I still had control of my car, but I couldn't think straight. I know I asked Jeff if we should stop, like it was even really a question. He forcefully said we should and was already dialing 911 by the time I could come to a stop about ten feet passed the fallen man. I knew things were serious when Jeff, whose least favorite game is when you let off the brakes a little while he's trying to get in the car, was already opening his door and getting out before I could come to a complete stop.
By this time, my heart was racing and I still couldn't think very clearly. I struggled to find the button to turn on the flashers in my car and, when I finally did, jumped out to see what I could do to help. There was a car in the left lane that had stopped when I stopped. I began to make sure all of the cars behind us were stopped as Jeff attending to the man laying on the pavement.
Thankfully, he was breathing, but very heavily. I began waving at cars to stop and having them go around us, not wanting to create a traffic jam on an already fairly busy street. Several people stopped and made sure we were okay, asking if they needed to call anyone. I told them we had things covered and that they could go around. Each one of them asked if I had hit them before they drove away.
The 911 operator told Jeff to hold the man's neck and head up and steady, which I soon found out was my new job in our new situation. Trying to divert traffic around us and hold this man's head was more than I'm used to when asked to multi-task. My spreadsheets and emails suddenly became fairly trivial.
I don't mean to be gruesome, but I'll never forget how warm the blood was that was seeping from the back of this man's head. I was hesitant to touch him at first, but only in my mind.
Within a couple minutes, the police and paramedics had arrived. Several men and women quickly surrounded the man and Jeff and I were pushed back closer to my car. Without realizing it, we had gone from willing strangers to possible suspects.
And that's as dramatic as I'll get in this post.
The paramedics took the man to the hospital to have him checked. He never stopped breathing and the doctors think he had a stroke and fell into the street. Jeff and I were held for about 70 minutes until this news came in so that a hit and run or assault could be ruled out, in which case we would have either be suspects or witnesses.
It was a long night, especially the parts of it standing out in the chilly evening air, but with my heart racing for the first twenty minutes, it went quite quickly.
While we were sitting in my car waiting to hear an update from the police, Jeff said he thought it was funny that I had told the passing cars that my brother works at a homeless shelter and that he deals with these situations often. I had realized I had said this, but I had mentioned it to two or three people. I was initial embarrassed for the ramblings that had come out in my panic and desire to create calm, but after thinking about it overnight, I knew what I was saying.
And then I realized that many people might not.
Before I moved to Nashville to live with my homeless shelter employee brother, my view of the homeless was just like most people's views of them probably are. I saw the homeless as a group of people who were out of work and spent the money they did have on beer and cheap whiskey. And I saw the shelters they visited as soup kitchens and a place for some of them to spend the night.
I didn't see the mental illness and disease and disabilities that are rampant in the homeless population. I didn't see how society casts these people to the side of the roads where the rest of us want to drive as fast as we can, leaving them all in the distance.
And I didn't see the efforts put forth by the volunteers and workers at these shelters to help these people, many of whom have now become some of my closest friends.
In his seven years working with some of Nashville's best people, my brother has seen and done some extraordinary things. He's held men having seizures while waiting for an ambulance, he's broken up violent fights that I wouldn't dream of stepping in the middle of, and he's dealt with drug overdoses and alcoholism beyond what I can imagine.
And because of these things, the things he's dedicated his life to doing, his work at a homeless shelter might be the reason there's one more man alive in Nashville today.
It might have sounded crazy at the time, but I knew what I was saying when I told people we were okay because my brother works at a homeless shelter.
__________________________________
Room in the Inn is an amazing place with amazing people, both their employees and their participants. They offer a variety of services and programs to help the less-fortunate in Nashville. And they provide a warm place to stay for many, many people each night during the winter months. I'm privileged to be associated with this organization and the work they do. I would encourage each of you to get involved in some small or large way; you'll be better for it.
