She was alone. I almost passed her by, but there was something strange. I circled her, made eye contact, and asked if she were OK. In retrospect, I realize she was dazed, but at the time it wasn't clear what was happening. She mouthed words that were almost inaudible. I asked her whether it was OK if I stayed with her or if I should leave. Her response was ambivalent, and I sat on the sidewalk next her. About that time I noticed the goose-egg bump on her right forehead.
She just wanted to sit. Then she laid down. I doffed the backpack that had the three sandwiches inside and offered it as a pillow. Then, when a man passed pushing a container, I waived to him and we spoke. He suggested 911, and I made the call.
The operator asked me to check to see whether she wanted medical aid. I tried talking to her. She was largely ambiguous in her response, but finally she said yes. I told the 911 operator to send an aid car, and I described what she was wearing and where we were situated. The woman began to drift away; her eyes seemed to see nothing, and she was having problems keeping them open.
I took her hand. Her grip was strong, and I think she liked the comfort of the touch, but she seemed to be having trouble speaking. Her eyelids were growing so heavy. I placed my hand on her cheek and told her to stay awake. I kept talking to her, trying to have her keep her eyes open.Then I heard the sirens. I saw the aid car and waived it in while I continued to support her face in my hand -- she had dropped her head on the sidewalk once, and I didn't want that to happen again.
Several paramedics exited the aid car. They took vitals and tried to get her to talk with them. There was a plastic bracelet on her right wrist, and from that they learned her name was Donna. They called Donna by name and asked her what had happened. They wanted to know whether she had taken any substances and whether she had been assaulted, possible in the form of a domestic dispute. I stood and watched.
One of the paramedics concluded that she was under the influence of something. They asked whether she needed to throw up and positioned her on her side, but nothing came of it. An ambulance arrived, she was placed on a stretcher and taken away.
It's not what I expected to see when I walked out with three sack lunches -- someone sitting in the light of dusk on a nearly empty street who might have lain there for a long time if I hadn't stopped and talked with her.
Lunch donated
I walked toward the waterfront and engaged a corner panhandler who was facing traffic and holding a sign asking for money at the 7th Avenue freeway offramp. He was up from Las Vegas, exhausted, and wanting an affordable place to stay. The conversation didn't make a lot of sense to me, but I gave him a sack lunch: an apple, fig bars and two sandwiches of cream cheese, Jimmy Dean Summer Sausage, Miracle Whip, and mustard. He seemed more curious about what was in the sack rather than interested in eating. What he really wanted was an affordable place to stay until he returned to Las Vegas, I think.
I walked to Ivar's and returned home; enroute I saw the panhandler across the street under a tree and eating what looked like takeout. Maybe it's the time of year. I'm getting jaded taking meals to street people who don't appear to need them. I still had two sack lunches, which I placed in the fridge.
Meals served so far: 42
Ubuntu
