There was a hospital-style bed located on the middle of the far wall, which was not all that far off, since the room was not very large. A wide-open window allowed in cool winter air, while in contrast, the home's furnace was blowing heat.
Under blankets in the bed was an elderly-looking man who had white hair, mostly bald on top. He appeared to be asleep, but was crying. It sounded like he was having nightmares, and he was rolling back and forth, making noises like he was in pain. This went on and on the whole time that I was inspecting the home for energy savings opportunities, which was my objective for being there.
I asked the landlord if the man was okay, thinking that maybe I should call and have a welfare check done on him, or call for medical attention. "Does he have family, or any people?", I asked her, and she said that he has some people that come and check on him twice a week...
He started to wake up a little bit while I was looking at the bathroom area, and he was talking to the landlord. I overheard him saying something about how his daughter will not talk to him anymore. But he was having a hard time uttering what he wanted to say, and eventually was laying back down.
The landlord wanted me to replace the thermostat, showerhead, lightbulbs, and some other energy saving measures, so I found it necessary to go out to my van and retrieve my tool bag and the other necessary items. On our way out the door, I quietly commented to the landlord that I thought I smelled the faint odor of alcohol, and she confirmed that it was definitely a factor in this situation, as well as a lot of pills.
Because there were other units in the same home that were also being evaluated, and other technicians working in them, the landlord went to check on them. So after I gathered supplies from my van, I went back into Unit 2 on my own. The landlord said that I could say "Hi" to the man who lived there, but warned me not to talk too much, or he would keep me for a long time if I got him started.
The man, whose name I was told was Mark, was "asleep" in his bed as I silently worked, trying to make as little of a ruckus as possible. It was a priority to hurry, so as to minimally inconvenience the gentleman, but of course correct electronic wiring and quality installations cannot be rushed. Approximately 25 minutes had elapsed, and I found it necessary to interrupt him from his apparent slumber.
The installation of his new programmable thermostat was complete, and I needed to check with him to see what temperature he prefers his home to be heated to. Beckoning his attention like I would have approached an antique porcelain doll on a rickety wooden shelf, delicately I half-whispered "...Mark?" [pause] "...I am done installing your new thermostat, and I was wondering what temperature you would like it set to?" [Three second pause] "68's fine," was his only response, while his eyes remained unopened.
Now that the thermostat was done, I had a couple of showerhead options for him, and was not sure which one he would like to have. So, after a moment of awkward silence, I quietly said "Mark?... If you want, I can also change your" -- "JESUS CHRIST, WHAT DO YOU WANT NOW???!!!", he violently snarled, as he swiftly sat up in his bed, and glared directly at me with fire in his eyes.
Hard stop. I backed off, turned off his bathroom light, and apologized for bothering him.
Within a moment, he calmed down, and said "It's not your fault," and I could tell that he felt bad for lashing out.
My tool bag was on my shoulder, and I was ready to justifiably and permanently walk out of his door. But now that he was calm, I thought I would make one last attempt at discussing his showerhead. He had a plastic handicap-assist shower seat in his small stand-up shower, but only had a fixed wall-mount showerhead, so I knew that a handheld water wand on a 6' long hose would be life-changing for him.
Reluctantly, and with a bit of trepidation, I tiptoed my way back around to the topic of the showerhead: "I mean, I was just going to say, that I could change your showerhead to one that has a long hose on it, so you can take it down when you shower... if you want..."
His entire demeaner changed, and he humorously became grateful, and cordial -- a noble aristocrat: "Oh, yes, that would be great!", he chimed. So, with satisfaction at the turn in his tune, and that I was able to help him out in a small but meaningful way, I installed his new handheld showerhead.
However, as I did this, it did not take him long to get back into a tormented state of mind, and within a minute or two, he was sobbing into his pillow. We did not exchange any more words, as I most certainly did not want to disturb him. The probability was very high that would have unleashed wrath on me if I had said a single thing. So I silently finished my work, put his bag of free nightlights and brochures on his kitchen table next to his laptop computer, and got OUT.
Although I was able to help save the man a few dollars on his utility bills, I was not able to help him with what he really needed. He was living and sleeping in a literal hell on earth. With the demeanor of a broken hearted, toothless, tortured demon, his spirit was drowning in pain, alcohol, chemicals, and loneliness.
Leaving the home without meaningfully addressing Mark's woeful condition felt similar to seeing someone on a small, far-off island that is raging with fire, but having no bridge or watercraft to reach them. If I was not being paid to evaluate for energy savings, I would have liked to pull a chair up beside the bed and spend time attentively hearing what was really happening in his life, and what was troubling him. Not that I would likely have any remedies -- I am just a troubled mortal, myself -- but it might be cathartic for him to be able to speak to a listening ear, be given someone's time, and receive the love of another.
Mark's condition was extreme, and for the most part he did not attempt to obscure his pain. He did not comb his hair, gargle some mouthwash, and say that he was "fine." He lay in his bed and helplessly bawled like an infant.
But just because a person does not wreak of alcohol, maniacally curse at you, or sob in the fetal position in their bed does not mean that their island is not cracking at its very foundation, or disintegrating in places that are not visible. Underlying embers can marinade in their own heat for ages before bursting back to life without warning, and transforming into a raging inferno.
Some islands appear to be tropical vacation destinations, while others seem manifested straight from a horrific nightmare. People live in wonderful, exotic conditions, lavishing their expendable income on heated toilet seats and fully stocked wine cellars -- while other people dwell in deplorable circumstances, in places that are not fit for habitation.
Everybody from Taylor Swift to the Pillsbury Dough Boy uses electricity and natural gas, so I am fortunate (and in some cases not so fortunate) enough to have my boat dock up with islands of all kinds. This can concurrently be heart-wrenching, educational, and overwhelming. But sometimes, it is so wonderful that I do not want to leave, or I deeply yearn that my home island was more like this one or that one.
The beautiful and consistent attribute that extends from island to island though is that on each parcel of soil, there is a human in need of love. Whether they have a sprawling mansion worth millions of dollars, or a rusty trailer home that is barely standing, the souls inside have the same intrinsic value, and their hearts beat the same, independent of their own free will. All were derived from the womb of a female homo sapien, and death is impartially lurking around the corner, regardless of one's social and financial status.
In conclusion (though admittedly lacking substantive, transformative resolution), it seems that the only plausible responses to this quandary include loving and learning:
- Spread LOVE wherever it will be received, even sowing compassion in the most unlikely, under-cultivated soil conditions.
- Diligently, vigorously LEARN from the unusual, remarkable, and even mundane situations that are encountered, and practically apply these experiences to the way our own islands are daily maintained.
.jpg "This is a Persian that I met at an appointment :)")
