Lady Godiva
Lady Godiva obfuscates her matted hair and soiled clothes with bravado— a loud voice booming incessant chatter without regard to content. Loud. Brash. Complaining. The unstated but implicit promise of confrontation and conflict. Her voice is a warning beacon against the omens and devils of the homeless – criticism, judgement, rejection, and advice.
Lady Godiva must be thinking – ‘A new face sits in the park, quite foreign among the rusted metal chairs and the trash cans emitting the smells of empty liquor bottles and the human excrement— possibly a late-night episode of drunken diarrhea after all the shops have closed. This new face is clean and groomed. He wears a white coat with a pen in the breast pocket. There is writing over the breast pocket partially obscured by a stethoscope hanging around his neck. Is it possible that a physician is sitting in the park on this overcast day, our park, with his medical bag? Beside him, a newly born baby in a car seat sleeps, gently rocked by the breeze. He chats with a woman, maybe his wife, who has a smaller bag. Are they waiting for someone? Are they here to help? Or, are they here to bring criticism, judgment, rejection, or advice?’
We wait, Brandy, Joseph, and I, for the obligatory feeling-out period. We must be observed and evaluated for the possibility of threat. In the street world, are we predator or prey? The answer is neither, I hope. We wait until waiting would suggest timidity or fear, then we act. I carry the car seat while Brandy totes her bag to approach Lady Godiva and her companions. “Hi, I am Dr. Mazzella, this is my wife Brandy, and this is our son Joseph.” Clearly, we are no threat, but their response indicates that neither are we prey. Brandy opens her bag and offers sandwiches, which they accept.
Lady Godiva asks, “What kinda Doctor are you?” I answer, “Internal Medicine. I brought my medical bag in case you would like help with anything.” Disbelief causes an awkward hesitation, but I have nothing more to say. My mission is now public. The ball is no longer in my court. The air hangs heavy with silence and with the smell of nearby excrement. One gentleman slowly hides his marijuana pipe in his palm. Lady Godiva breaks the silence, “I would like some help. I’m in between doctors right now.” I respond, “That’s why I’m here.”
Lady Godiva and I head to a table by ourselves. I take her medical history and hear her personal struggles. She talks at length about each issue apparently happy, if not shocked, to have my ear. I listen, diagnose, and find something in my bag to help her physical symptoms. She does not receive criticism, judgement, or rejection. She accepts the gentle advice designed to make her life a little better. For the moment, she is happy. Surprised and happy. We chat; we laugh; we hug. As she trots off, she tells me that Lady Spencer would like to see me.
Episode 5: Count of Monte Cristo
more to come…
We encourage you to take to the streets and get to know the people, the struggles, and the stories for yourself. Bring food, socks, and an open heart.