Tuesday, December 17, 2019

Charity: Why I do what I do

Many moons ago, my mom came to visit me while I was pursuing my career. It was a gorgeous Saturday. My mom and I headed to the beach to allow the gently rolling waves to wash away the week of stress.

As we were relaxing under an almond tree, an elderly man approaches us carrying a guitar. We make small talk with the gentleman. He then proceeds to sing us a sweet serenade. The man's talent was quite astounding; he was an accomplished musician. At the end of the song, he asks us for money. My mom and I decline. The man leaves and goes on to the next couple sunbathing on the beach. My mom and I spend the rest of the afternoon at the beach. As the sun sinks below the horizon and produces a breath-taking scene, we decide it is time to leave the beach.

During the next week, my mom returns back to her home. I return back to my weekly grind of having too much to do and feeling as though I never have enough time. The following Saturday, I am grateful there is a health fair in a remote location in the mountains. Since I am one of the leaders of the organization which sponsors the event, it is expected I help. As always, I happily agree to the distraction. I gleefully step aboard a bus and travel over an hour into the mountains.

When I arrive at the health fair, there is a massive line of people waiting for their free health screening. I, along with my colleagues, set up the various stations. Soon it is time to allow the first patients through the registration desk. The day passes rather uneventfully. In the afternoon, the line begins to thin. I travel with the president of the organization on a tiny mountain road which winds through a small village. As we pass along, we tell residents about the free health fair.

As we approach the edge of the town, an inter-city bus stops. An elderly man exits the vehicle. My colleague immediately tells the gentleman about the health fair. As the man draws near, my breath catches. This is the same gentleman my mom and I saw at the beach last weekend. Instantly, I notice there is something wrong with the man. The sparkle is gone from his eyes; his skin looks very pale; he seems very confused and disoriented; his speech is slurred. Gone is his quick wit. He struggles to put words together to make a sentence. I ask the man what is wrong. He tells me he is a diabetic. Last week Friday he ran out of insulin. He did not have any money for any more medicine. (And I fill in the rest of the story. He caught a bus to the beach last weekend hoping he could get money from tourists and anyone else visiting the beach. He must have not been successful.)

With an extremely heavy and broken heart, I reach for the man's hand and gently cradle it between my two hands. (The gentleman is very unsteady on his feet. I am fearful he may stumble and will fall off the steep side of the small mountain road.) I tell the man I am taking him to the health fair. He does not protest. When we arrive back at the event, I skip the line and registration. I can see people are outraged this man just cut in line. I simply state this gentleman is my VIP. I take the man to the station which has the blood glucose monitors. I prick the man's finger and impatiently wait several seconds for the results. The man's blood sugar is so high, the monitor does not give an actual number. I know this man needs IMMEDIATE medical intervention.

Holding the blood glucose monitor with my right hand, I hold the man's hand with my left hand and lead him over to one of the local physicians. I explain to the doctor, "This is Mr. Smith. He is a diabetic. He ran out of insulin last week Friday and has not had any insulin in over a week. Here is the reading from the blood glucose monitor. Please give Mr. Smith the best possible care. He is one of our VIPs." With that, I left Mr. Smith in the care of one of the attendings.

How does this story end? I have no idea. After leaving the gentleman with the physician, I return back to my duties at the health fair. I pray Mr. Smith was able to get the medical attention he so desperately needed. I also know this entire situation was God-orchestrated. I just happened to meet Mr. Smith the week before at the beach. I witnessed his light-heartedness and amazing musical abilities. The following week, I just happened to be at a health fair in this man's hometown. And I just happened to meet Mr. Smith as he exited a bus. Having previously encountered the gentleman, I immediately discerned this man seemed very ill. Instantly I knew he needed urgent care.

The one thing I have taken away from this situation is this: if anyone asks me for money, I will give it to him. One never knows if the person also may be in a terrible financial crisis like Mr. Smith. My stony heart could have killed a dear man. I never want that to happen again.


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