I have probably been "ruined for life" since delving into service several years ago. But lately, I've been really feeling the emotional toll of that phrase so commonly thrown around in Jesuit circles.
I visited the previously-mentioned Mrs. A. and her family in the hospital on Saturday afternoon for a few hours. It helped me understand some of the larger issues at hand; specifically, the fact that Mrs. A. was one of the two bread-winners in her home. She lives in a trailer with her husband, her 21-year-old daughter, her daughter's husband, and their 1 and 2-year-old children. She was in the hospital for 10 days, which meant she missed work and therefore missed out on desperately needed income. Furthermore, the whole thing was all probably for naught because the third hospital in Atlanta (which was unfortunately Emory University Hospital...) declined the transfer request to do the surgery. So Mrs. A. was released from the hospital on Tuesday evening with an oxygen machine and a piece of paper written entirely in English about the fact that she has follow-up appointments with a hematologist and a cardiologist next week. She told me that she wishes that she had just never found out about her congenital heart problem, and honestly, I don't really blame her. If I had been able to see into the future, I probably would've never made Mrs. A. the first appointment that began this whole ordeal.
Last night at clinic, I had a patient, Mrs. B., start crying in my arms. Her husband has Hepatitis C and the clinic has been paying for his appointments with a liver specialist. Yesterday, the doctor told Mr. and Mrs. B. that Mr. B. is as good as dead if he doesn't have a liver transplant, but since he's not technically disabled, he won't be able to get the Medicaid that could potentially pay for the transplant. Furthermore, Mrs. B. was fired from her job the day before because she's had to miss too much work to bring her husband to all these appointments (they live over an hour away from Savannah). Mrs. B. told me she was only making $10/hour, but it was enough to at least stay afloat; now she's worried about having to give up her house if neither her nor her husband are able to find some form of work. Mrs. B. struggles with very serious anxiety, as well as a slew of other health problems, that obviously compound all of these other issues. I was able to get Mr. B on a prescription assistance program, and I'm trying to do other little things to help them out, but the situation keeps getting more and more messy.
This afternoon, I spent a lot of time talking to Mrs. M. on the phone. Her husband was one of the aforementioned managers of a McDonald's that was raided last week. She says that he is completely innocent of any criminal charges and that the whole scenario was created because of racial tensions at McDonald's and in society in general. He is facing both criminal and immigration charges though, because he also happens to be undocumented. She is preparing to sell literally everything she owns, send her two teen-aged children to live with family in another state, and move in with a friend so that she can pay the exorbitant lawyer's fees. I have confirmation from an attorney friend of mine that the lawyer she has is the best in the area for this sort of thing, but the entire situation is literally turning her life upside-down. The great irony of the situation is that Mrs. M. was a lawyer in Peru before she immigrated to the U.S. Mrs. M. isn't a patient of mine, but the woman she is moving in with is a patient at Good Samaritan (who I was luckily able to tell today that the lump in her breast isn't cancerous...phew). Random community connections actually put us in contact yesterday...the Hispanic community in Savannah seems to all know each other. Anyway, there obviously isn't anything I can do for Mrs. M. or her family other than pray and help them access small forms of assistance (like food). But Mrs. M. and I spent quite a while chatting and crying together today about the myth of the "American dream", about why racism exists, and about the state of the new immigration law in Georgia (which, surprisingly, hasn't yet been signed by Gov. Deal). I've never met Mrs. M., but I sincerely hope that I do before I leave Savannah.
Good thing I don't want to be a social worker...I don't think I could handle this type of work forever.
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