The Homeless Man And The Baby SHoe

   During my afternoon walk, I see a
homeless man in what appears to be a
deep slumber, most likely induced by
some addictive substance. His white
T-shirt is pulled halfway up his chest
revealing a black circle made by a
permanent marker on the side of his
lower back. I realize that he must
have been in the hospital, and one of
the doctors noticed a rash, so they
circled the area to monitor for
shingles.

    I feel as if I’m walking by a crime scene, like the two “religious
people” who passed by the injured man in Jesus’ parable about the
“Good Samaritan.” I check that he’s breathing by observing his chest
rise and fall before I continue down the street. Guilt and helplessness
weigh heavy upon my shoulders as I turn the corner. Then, I find a little
blue-knit baby shoe on the ground.  

     A man waiting at a bus stop glances at my scrubs and says through
his mask, “Thank you for your service.” I meet his eyes and thank him
for his sentiments. His kind words are still fresh in my mind as I return
to work, but I can’t help but think of how I stepped around that man
without shelter. His body lay sprawled on the cement. I wonder what led
him to such a solitary and desperate place. I also think of two mothers:
One who lost a shoe and the other who lost her son. 

Patricia Cannon has been a Registered Nurse at UCSF since 2001. She has worked in cardiac critical care, neuro intensive care, hemeoncology, school nursing, and currently, in research. Her passion is her faith, photography, and the written word in all its forms. The complete first drafts of some of her diary entries which include “The Homeless Man and the Baby Shoe,” were donated to the National Women’s History Museum.