Stories

A little thought for Mr Z., whose death we recently found out.

In our accompaniment of housed patients, we often see tensions around available money. To stay in their homes, they must pay the rent and avoid cumulating bills.

A few months ago, I asked Street Nurses to confront me with the reality of their street work. As a volunteer, I know about it indirectly, especially through the articles “Slice of life”. Impressive, even moving. Definitely. But I realized that the experience in the field could be much more poignant. 

Mrs. T is seated on the steps of a Brussels tube station. As usual, she wears a headscarf and a flowered dress. When we invite her, she accepts our invitation, sometimes with a broad smile on her smooth and tired face, to get out of her daily routine for a moment, far from the traffic noise and the passers-by who brush past her mercilessly.

This is the story of a man, accompanied by the “My Way” team of Street Nurses. It is a moving, even shocking, story. But thankfully, it ends on a positive note. 

If I were to speak to myself as a child, I would say: “Good luck!” My strongest wish? That most people suffering from muscular rheumatism (polymyalgia rheumatica) could work as they want.

My first meeting with you, Mr. G., was such that I simply had to write about it. There we were, comfortably seated around a table to discuss your wishes, your plans.

Mrs J., we met 11 years ago. After three years in the street being followed up by Street Nurses, you were one of the first people to join the Housing First programme.

Arcadia! No, not the mythological land where happy shepherds play the flute and live off love and fresh air. It’s the name of a retirement home where the “My Way” team pays a visit to see how Mr. M. is doing.

One morning we set out to look for Mr. M. He’s mentally limited and lives on the street. He moves about a lot and finding him is always a challenge.

First, we search in the huge parking lot of a shopping center, then in the center itself and finally in the surroundings: gloomy viaducts, remains of camping spots, old shopping carts full of rubbish. But no trace of Mr. M.

When we join her today, Mrs. A hides her face in her hands. She groans, she weeps. An icy wind hits the courtyard where we’re sitting and makes the atmosphere even more desolate. Nobody can escape suffering. I know. As a social assistant, as someone who wants to relieve misery in all its forms. I empathise with her suffering, each time she looks at me with swollen eyes.

Mrs L. is almost 50 years old. She’s been living on the street for 20 years, got placed in institutions from a very early age and is a victim of the failing Belgian system. Street Nurses in Liège are worried about her and feel powerless in the face of her misery.

We dedicate this article to Mr. F, a man with an impressive career, intelligent and with a mischievous look in his eyes. We want to highlight his story but also how it could have ended if he had been granted asylum.