2005-02-16

Wow � I now have a whole new definition of �bad day at work�. Yesterday afternoon we had a young couple come in looking for a place to stay. They were both eighteen, Turkish, just married; neither of them spoke much English. They�d been thrown out of her father�s home and had no friends to rely on � the husband had been doing temporary work but had no source of income, and no way to find more work without a permanent address. They had ten pounds between them. Both of them were well dressed and polite � the girl was absolutely beautiful. She told us she was pregnant. They were terrified.

And there wasn�t a thing we could do for them. We had no vacant rooms; even if we did, our regulations don�t allow us to accept couples. The closest night shelter is in Winchester � to take the train and pay the nominal fee for the room for one night would have cost them all their money. We tried the Salvation Army, the Citizens Advice Bureau and every shelter within a ten-mile radius: nothing. So we offered them a blanket and turned them out onto the streets, and that was that. They thanked us and left.

We turn people down every day, of course, but the vast majority of them are�well, not exactly innocent, if you take my meaning. Sad cases, but not quite as heart-wrenching as a pair of frightened kids with a baby on the way. God. After they�d gone, the two care workers and I sat around blinking and not looking at each other.

Fun start to the afternoon! I was feeling pretty run down when I collected my things to leave for the day. I�d just made it to the door when I realized I�d forgotten the bundle of letters I�d meant to take to the post office, so I popped into the office to collect them and headed back out.

I ran into one of the care workers � literally ran into him; he was standing stock still in the middle of the hall. �Oh, sorry,� I said. He just looked at me and swayed slightly. I knew he was diabetic, and became mildly concerned. �Are you OK?� I asked. Nothing. He was dead pale. �When was the last time you ate, David?� Nothing. Oh, poop.

Jackie, the other care worker, came into the hallway. �He�s acting really strangely,� she said.

�Yeah, he�s diabetic. I think his blood sugar is low. David, is your blood sugar low?�

�I�m fine,� he mumbled. �Just gotta�keep on truckin�.� Good lord, Grateful Dead quotes: this was becoming serious.

We corralled him into the office, where he got more and more incoherent. I had to physically wrangle him into a chair while Jackie called an ambulance � he kept lurching to his feet and careening around the office. I was afraid he�d fall over and bash his skull open. I got his testing gear from his bag and put it in his hands. �David, I need you to use this for me. Can you prick your finger for me, please?� Nope, not having any of it.

I racked my brain for helpful information. I tried to get him to eat an orange, but the ambulance dispatch told us not to give him anything. Surely there was something I could do � I�ve watched a lot of ER! I must have learned something! Think, think�Noah Wylie is hot. Damn! That�s not helpful at all.

Actually, to tell the truth, I remained preternaturally calm throughout the whole thing � not because I am innately level-headed and together, but because I am pathologically self-absorbed. In crisis situations, instead of thinking �Oh my god! Poor [victim]! I have to help them! This is terrible!� I think �If I freak out, I will look a right prat.� So I became robotically detached, did what I logically thought might help and tried to stay out of the way of the ambulance crew�until they asked me to help them out, and I ended up holding a glucose drip and sitting on David�s feet so that he wouldn�t kick me in the face. All in a day�s work.

Jackie, on the other hand, went into a right tizz. �Why�s he acting this way?� she kept saying. �I have a friend who�s diabetic and she doesn�t act like this! He�s scaring me! Please don�t leave me alone with him!� She�s a care worker � isn�t it, I don�t know, sort of her job to deal with people who are badly off? And completely not mine?

I finally left, over an hour after the end of my shift, after David had been carted off; I had a bit of a cry on the train and then went out for a beer. This is not exactly what I had in mind when I got hired as an administrator, but at least I�m not bored.