Since I don't really feel like sleeping right now (see post below), I'll write some more.

Yesterday was one of the oddest days I've had in a long time. Overstressed and in desperate need of a break, I went to Cathedral Square to use the swings. This black guy comes along and asks me for some money. I didn't bring my wallet because I was just going for a walk. I told him this and he left... for about 10 minutes. After that he was back. He took the swing next to me and began to talk. I hate being rude so I sat there and listened to him. He had no money to fill his prescription: pain medication for a fractured arm. I looked at the prescription and was utterly perplexed: Diflucan prescribed by a dentist. I asked him if it was for a girlfriend or something and he assured me it was for him. Then I pointed out the fact that it was from a dentist and he showed me that he had teeth pulled recently. I didn't really buy his story so I told him I'd have to think about it.

He then continued with the tale of his life. He said was a boxer in the mid '80s and was writing a book on the power of God. Then he proceeded to recite passage after passage of scripture. I was impressed--I know I couldn't do that. Since I had originally gone to the park to pray, I suggested that we pray together. We held hands and praised God for a while, and that felt good. I decided I couldn't but help him: I felt we had bonded. Never mind that he had an odd prescription, or that he was just as confused about it as I was. I called a pharmacist friend to see if she could think of why he would get Diflucan from a dentist, and she reminded me that men can get yeast infections too. And that yeast is an opportunistic pathogen that infects immunocompromised people. Then it hit me: AIDS, oral thrush. He showed me the card of his AIDS counsellor and my suspicions were confirmed. We headed to Walgreen's to get the prescription filled after I picked up my wallet. Instead of waiting half an hour for the prescription to be filled, I just gave him 3 bucks for the med, a bag of M&Ms and a couple more for groceries. He didn't even say thanks as he ran to catch his bus.

I felt bad for him, but it's always people like this about whom I don't know how I should feel. When I looked at his jaundiced eyes I saw a ruined life: he was probably just some alcoholic drug addict. He had brought this suffering upon himself--why should I feel bad? But I did feel bad, and couldn't help it. What if he had tried to turn his life around? He was, after all, quoting scripture left and right and even a long passage from an AA manual he had memorized. I've been thinking about him a lot ever since--and praying for him a lot. I hope he's all right, wherever he is...