On a caffeine-free high, I set off down my apartment stairs; passing the windows and doors of sound-asleep neighbors. I live downtown Denver, about one block off a main street that serves as the entry-and-exit to city life. After a deep breath of morning air I took off toward that main passageway; oblivious to the life-changing event about to happen.
Turning the corner, I passed the regular bus stop but this time was different. Yes, there was a homeless man bundled up but that was not out of the ordinary. This time he wasn’t asking for money, he wasn’t sipping from a flask and he definitely was not an average lost soul.
“Good morning” was all I could get out as I jogged past the man with tears in my eyes- his eyes caught mine and something spoke to me. I got no more than 10 steps pass that bus stop, turned around and headed straight back toward the trembling and frost-bitten homeless man.
“Sir, can I get you a cup of hot coffee or something- something to warm you up?”
“Oh yes, please” the man slowly and unsteadily spoke. I took off running again, but this time back toward my apartment complex where I knew they had hot coffee and tea in the lobby. Quickly, I poured 2 cups; one hot tea and one hot coffee. I shoved a couple cream and sugars in my jacket and off I went.
A few steps outside the apartment door I could see the man trying to stand as a bus passed by without any attempt to stop. He tried to scream angry words at the bus but all I heard was a mix of fury, frustration and tears and then saw him collapse to the ground.
I rounded the corner and began hugging the man as he lied on the ground. Rubbing his back furiously, I explained that we needed to get his blood flowing. At this point, I had recalled the temperatures falling into the teens overnight and my heart sympathized with what this middle-aged, scruffy-faced man must have gone through during the last 12 hours.
“I don’t want to die” the man cried from all fours on the ground, “I don’t want to die!” His words were slurred but the message was clear.
“Sir, I won’t let you die,” I confirmed. “Now, what’s your name- My name is Stacy.”
“I am Robert,” he responded.
“Ok Robert, I am not going to let you die- that I can promise. I am going to stay here with you as long as you need. Don’t focus on standing up yet, let’s get your blood flowing and slowly drink this coffee,” I tried to confidently advise the man. But what did I know? I’m a sales girl who likes to run- not a nurse ready to handle frost-bitten homeless men. But he did as I asked and tried to speak words; which became clearer and sensible and his blood started to flow and the coffee disappeared.
Robert began to tell me his story as time passed and I was able to sit him up on the bench next to me. He talked about his time in the Gulf War, showed me a scar that ran its way from one earlobe to the next, told me a heartbreaking story about his mother ripping off his dog tags after the war because it had “damaged” him and then he led me to that moment: pointed to the ground he called home the night before and explained that he was trying to catch the #6 bus to visit his dad in the nursing home where it was warm.
“Here.. try some tea now that the coffee is gone,” I recommended as I placed the Tazo Tea bag in the hot water. Just as he started to take the first sip, I noticed something very odd. A fire truck- lights and all- headed straight towards us. It slowed to a stop less than 10 feet from where we were sitting.
“Oh no- this is not happening! If someone called the cops thinking this homeless man was hurting me or should be arrested for something- I am going to freak out. This cannot be happening,” were the thoughts that rushed through my head as 5 or 6 firemen jumped out of the truck and headed towards us. Immediately we were separated and they began to question Robert about what was happening.
“Ms. Stacy saved my life!” he screamed joyfully. “I was freezing and shaking but look- Ms. Stacy gave me coffee and tea- she saved my life!”
Right then, an ambulance and police car pulled up a back street and parked. Robert was being asked to walk in a straight line, give his full name and date of birth. He appeared to know the police officer and a couple of the firemen but the routine was all-to-unfamiliar for me.
Right then, one of the firemen pulled me aside to warn against “taking care of all homeless people around here.” I explained the situation and he confirmed that Robert was known to be a good-guy around town but carries knives with him that I should be aware of. I asked about the shelter situation and why Robert would not have headed there for warmth. Robert overheard and the defenses came up: “They steal your things, they sell drugs there” he explained. The officers agreed and said that he was probably doing the best he could since they had never known Robert to drink or abuse drugs.
“I will stay with Robert until the #6 bus comes,” I told the officers and they packed up their gear after Robert declined a hospital visit.
And then something struck me- a kind of peaceful quietness that words cannot explained. Robert and I sat on the bench side-by-side as I rubbed his back.
“Robert- I bet you can’t guess what today is.”
“Ms. Stacy- it’s your birthday isn’t it?”
“Yes Robert, yes it is.” I answered as the #6 bus pulled up, he got on and waved good bye from the window.
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