Now I am a Street Medic. Think Hemingway and ambulance driving, peper spray, gasand flash, bluntforce trauma, the treatment and prevention. But as I labour cross the land putting up my stand it is more and more chronic sufferers I see, my "clients" have lost their insurance are maybe afraid of the free clinic or ER. On the streets of America I tend more and more multipile ailments, traumatic brain injury self medicated with, with whatever might work for a minute and a deepening of personality disorder. Street Medic and what that means has evolved and as I experience more and more of the healthcare reputed to be the best in the world I am more and more down with OCCUPY THAT WE MUST CARE FOR OURSELVES, RELY ON OURSELVES FIRST AND FOREMOST AND NOT UPON THE GOVERMENT ot any corporate provider of what must be a right and not an enterprize.
I observe them, my 'clientelle', I see them in their lying down and also in their rising, those who sleep upon the earth. I ponder long and long the organizing of the day, routines and habits and places we must be - - the definitions, boundaries of who we are. The value ascribed us.
I wonder of my stolen tears and who might have taken that treasure. Those whose professed and profused profession is compassion; they what get a g r a n t for faith they express in in a vile spew of hate in the name of the Prince of Peace.