"How would you respond to the people who say you're just enabling the homeless, that you're a Band-Aid on society and not really confronting the root causes of homelessness?"
 
The professor asked that question at a colloquium on homelessness in Spokane.  Three members of the Jesuit Volunteer Corps and I comprised a panel that had just explained our work and the condition of homelessness. I, as a state work-study from Gonzaga University, had worked at the House of Charity for the past seven months with two of the Jesuit Volunteers.  The third was serving at St. Margaret's Shelter.  In response to the professor's question, one of my coworkers told the class about the various services offered by the House of Charity, from case management to advocacy to transitional housing.  He assured them the options were there for those who wanted to get off the streets.  I listened impatiently.  I couldn't think of an answer at the time, but his didn't seem quite right.  Now I wish I had told this story.
 
When I was working at the front desk during the summer, a man came up and asked for a bandage.  We had a variety of sizes and shapes, so I asked if I could see the wound in order to find the one that would best fit.  When he took his sun-bleached Mariners cap off to reveal it, I only barely suppressed my reflex to step back.  He no longer had an eyebrow so much as a gash so deep I could clearly see past the thick, white layer of fat just below the skin all the way to the bone.  His eye was nearly swollen shut.  Not that he would have been able to see much better if it had been open; dark, nearly black, blood was caked all around the socket.
 
The wound needed far more help than I could provide with what we had in our first aid kit.  I suggested he visit Sacred Heart, a short walk up the hill, for the appropriate care.  He declined, even after I offered to call an ambulance or drive him in the House of Charity's van.  I would have liked to have sent him several yeards down the hall to Sacred Heart's free medical clinic operated out of the House of Charity, which is the oldest free clinic in this state, but it wasn't open that day.
 
Resigned to his decision, I grabbed a pair of latex gloves and the first aid kit and led him into the bathroom.  Pulling on the gloves, I told him to tell me if I was ever hurting him.  Operating under vague memories of old Boy Scout training and episodes of House, M.D.,I dampened a paper towel and carefully dabbed around his eye, wiping away the clotted blood.  Once I could see his skin again, I carefully swabbed with a Q-tip dipped in antiseptic to stave off any infections.  After the wound was clean I folded over a long strip of gauze and, squeezing the gash closed with my second hand, taped the pad over his eyebrow.  Several times I saw him flinch under my untrained hands, but he didn't complain.  He said he had slipped on a wet spot and clipped his head on the edge of the bathtub.  When we were finally done, he thanked me and left, a red stain already beginning to grow on the patch.  He came back the next day, a dark red bloom in the center of the pad, and we repeated the process.
 
He shouldn't have been at the House of Charity.  He should have been at Sacred Heart or Deaconess.  He should have been receiving professional treatment.  His wound should have been properly disinfected by a trained nurse.  He should have had stitches and a CT scan to test for a concussion.  Instead he came to the House of Charity.  We offered what little help we could to speed healing and prevent an infection.  All we could do is bandage his scar.  He was still homeless, in the long run, a worse condition than any physical wound.
 
At times like this, the House of Charity does feel like a Band-Aid on society.  We do the best we can, but the underlying condition remains.  Yes, we do offer services and work with organizations like Spokane Mental Health and the Veterans Administration that can get our clients off the streets, but we can't force them to take these opportunities.  We wait for them to come to us, while many of them are content to come to the House of Charity for breakfast and lunch, a place to sit and sleep.  Whether our work makes Spokane a better city or merely maintains the status quo is debatable.  Then again, we don't serve society.  We serve individuals.  We offer them services when they want and need them.  We do this because no matter their past, their mental illness, their mistakes, they need help now.
 
Chris Heinrich
Baudette, Minnesota