Quite a Night

I need to process what happened tonight so I guess this is kind of like my journal entry:

So I just got back from work. And let's just say that what I did tonight definitely was not in the job description when I applied.

So a brief background first is in order. I have been working part time as a case manager at a new residential program for chronically homeless men with a diagnosed mental illness. Things have been pretty slow-going and there has been a lack of, well...everything. I got hired and was thrown into the deep end of the pool so to speak. I didn't receive any supervision, training, or direction whatsoever. So I've been trying to figure out what I am expected to do in a new program that is still figuring out basic policies and procedures. So to make a long story short, it hasn't been quite like I expected it to be and has left me feeling disappointed and frustrated at times. Yet, I'm thankful for the opportunity and the people that I am fortunate to get to know and work with.

Anyways, in the same facility as the program that I work for is a semi-large "community room" that is used for the overnight homeless men's shelter during the winter months. I am one of two people who are responsible for doing intake for the shelter every night from 8-10 pm, we rotate nights that we are on so that only one of us is on a night. The intake people are also responsible for dealing with any problems that take place during that time frame...and there was quite the problem tonight.

There is an individual, we'll call him Frank, who has been barred from using the shelter because of inappropriate and aggressive behaviors. Frank is someone who has been on the streets for years in Harrisburg because he has been kicked out of practically any program that he has been a part of...even programs that "don't kick people out." A few weeks ago, I spent about 20 minutes talking to Frank outside in the freezing cold (because he had applied to our program but was denied and was therefore not allowed in that part of the building) about his life and how hard he has it and how everyone is out to get him and that the world needs to adapt to him rather than the other way around (I'm paraphrasing here). Anyway, despite the fact that it was freezing cold, despite the fact that I was suppose to be inside at that moment, despite the fact that Frank was yelling at me for no reason, despite the fact that he was probably under the influence of drugs, the Lord spoke to me through Frank. I saw a man who was alone, hopeless, deranged, helpless, indeed un-helpable from what I heard. But I saw a human being. A person who has been denied by everything and everyone, a person who was at the mercy of his mental illness(es), a person that needed so much help but was so hostile to change and anyone who thought he needed to change.

Frank had been staying at the overnight shelter. He treated everyone horribly, even the nice, innocent volunteers who come to help and stay overnight with the men. He got into altercations and made threats to the other residents. He posed a threat to the overall safety of the shelter, where tensions already run high because of the limited amount of space in the room as well as the type of population that is occupying it. So I was casually notified by the other intake person via text one night that Frank is no longer allowed in the shelter. And the first thing I thought was, "Lord have mercy." Or something along those lines because I knew that Frank had no place else that would take him. The next thing I thought was that it could get dangerous if Frank was told that he wasn't allowed in the building. And naturally, I thought that I was going to be the person who had to deal with the worst of it, even though I had no part in the decision to bar him from the shelter. Unfortunately, I was right tonight.

The night was going relatively well. The coffee and snacks were all ready and most of the men had already been checked in and were settled into their sleeping places. Then Frank came to the door with a friend of his (who also stays at the shelter but hasn't caused any problems) expecting to be admitted. Now, Frank had already been informed of the fact that he would not be allowed back into the shelter several days ago. what made him choose this night to come and freak out rather than the last several I do not know. I just know that Frank was pissed. And uncontrollable. And inconsolable. And irrational. And livid. And threatening. And aggressive.

For about 10 minutes I stood outside, in the freezing cold again, as Frank yelled and cursed and threatened me. He demanded. He demanded to be allowed to stay overnight there. He demanded a written explanation as to why he would not be admitted. He demanded a lot of things. And so badly I wanted to allow him to come in out of the cold and have a place to sleep but I knew that I could not. I tried to calm him down. I tried to connect with him. I tried to de-escalate the situation (I never received any type of crisis intervention training. But I did read a pamphlet that we had in our office about it...better than nothing right?). I tried to help him understand that I was not his enemy. That I wanted to help him. That I wasn't going to let him sleep on the streets tonight. But he would not listen to anything I said. He was irrational. But for a paranoid schizophrenic under the influence of drugs who is facing yet another rejection and deep down afraid that he will freeze to death tonight on the streets if he cannot come in, how could he be rational? He is trying to survive.

I tried to remain calm. Nonthreatening. Compliant. Compassionate. On the outside I tried to appear calm and collected. But really I was terrified. I wanted to run and hide in a hole. I wanted someone else who knew how to actually deal with this stuff deal with it. I wanted to have a clue what to do.

I went in and out of the building a few times to get in contact with another emergency shelter that will only take people in emergencies. Well, they weren't answering their phone. Perfect. So at that point I was left with two options: call crisis intervention or call the police. Because I knew that there was literally no where else for Frank to go. But by some miracle, I called the emergency shelter one more time and the person picked up and after explaining the situation, said that they would take Frank for tonight. Thank God. Called a cab. It showed up in 5 minutes and, after one of the volunteers paid the fee to take Frank to the emergency shelter, Frank got into the taxi, still screaming at me as well as the other volunteers who had absolutely nothing to do with anything, and the taxi drove off.

But it's not good riddance. Frank is going to need a place to stay tomorrow night and I am pretty sure that the emergency shelter is a one-time deal. Frank needs drastic help. Why he is not in intensive psychiatric care I do not know. But I think that between prison and death, psychiatric care is the best option he has. And that is incredibly sad to say.

I just pray that Frank has a place to stay tomorrow night.