HENRY

It is loud. It’s early in the morning and the noise wakes me. There is music and people talking. I look out the window and see a crowd in the street. The home across the street is abandoned. It is a miracle that the house is still standing. But as much as it is in bad shape, there is a shed behind it that is in worse shape. This is where Henry lives. I call him “smoochie man” because he smooches the air when he sees me. I just learned his name today.


Smoochie is sitting on the concrete step, trying his best not to fall into the street. He appears disoriented. He tries over and again to put his foot into his flip-flop, but is unable to do it. His head is bleeding. If I didn’t know his history, I would think he is drunk. But he is not. I suspect he must have had a seizure. There is blood on the side of the road. He must have fallen there.


Several months ago I went outside and he was lying in the street unconscious. The neighbors were surrounding him waiting for the ambulance. Elizabeth said he refuses to take his medicine. I hear someone say, “call 911 for the man”.


It is a party atmosphere. There is a man who taunts Henry. He pretends like he is having a seizure, makes strange sounds and then laughs. He dances with glee down the street. It’s hard to understand this cruelty. Henry does not want help and so there is nothing to be done except watch him and hope he does not have another seizure.


After ten or fifteen minutes the ambulance arrived and took him to the hospital. I made a pot of coffee, got dressed and headed for a one day course which was coincidentally to learn emergency first aid procedures.