Last week, I needed to get blood drawn before work, so I took the early BART train to the Powell Street station. While I was walking through the Powell Street station, I noticed five police officers and a stretcher. What was going on!? I then heard someone screaming very loudly. As I approached the exit, I saw a homeless man who had passed out on the floor of the BART station. He was obviously very inebriated, because as they tried to wake him up, he started screaming. Three of the five officers stood there chit-chatting while two tried to get the man to wake up (apparently this was not an unusual circumstance for them!). The officers were very gentle (they weren't even touching him) but you would have thought they were manhandling him from his wailing.
It instantly reminded me of one Sunday afternoon when Mike and I ate lunch in Morro Bay. As we returned to our car, a homeless man stopped us to pet our dogs and after a few minutes of conversation, he suddenly switched gears and began having flashbacks to Vietnam. It was SO sad and scary for him, and lucky for him my husband, who is SO good in moments of crisis, was there to help him find a place to sit until he came out of it. Then he started sobbing. It was heartbreaking.
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