Lost

Today was probably one of the most busy days ever. I started the day off thinking I'd have to sort out a petition and get all the students to sign it, for the members of staff being made redundant, before our president told me otherwise. That was a relief I thought; the rest of the day should be easy, I thought. So that I spent that morning sending emails, filling out an ambulance risk assessment form (which made me aware that another risk assessment form for our student union had to be filled in; cue the hectic rush to request one from the lady I'd been trying to avoid out of fear that she'd make me jump through more hoops). Then I had to write and compile MMD Weekly. This was in between me doing shoutouts for Teddy Bear Hospital Safety Day for first and second years (hence all the emails and risk assessments; I'm quite a risky guy normally). Then I made a facebook group, then I decided to prepare for the interview at Kings I had later on, before sorting out young offenders-related stuff. Then I had to chase up people doing their bits for Safety Day, packing goody bags and buying stuff and whatnot. Then just before leaving for Kings, I thought I'd quickly film the video of the area for the teachers, saving them the hassle of coming down and risk evaluating things for themselves (I know, we live in a risk-filled world!).


On the bus to Denmark Hill (yes, Denmark Hill, not Guy's campus), I just managed to have a read of the Global Health essay I wrote for them, as well as replying to various texts and emails regarding our wonderful Safety Day. So got the interview done, it was OK, I said my bit, and then went back to Whitechapel to meet up with the VP and sort out the rest of the stuff.


Anyway, bragging about how busy I am isn't the reason I am writing this blog-post (I was just setting the scene, not really). On the way to returning the Tippex pen to the Garrod Building (long story, not really), I bump into a man smelling of alcohol, swearing at a sign pointing towards departments of the London Hospital that are now closed (the whole Hospital is now in the shiny new building if you weren't aware). Out of curiosity and a burning desire to help anyone I come across, I ask him if he's lost. It turns out he was looking for the psychiatric A&E department he had run away earlier from, and he showed me his referral letter, which contained a pretty precise history of what he was suffering from.


Rather than point him in the direction of the new A&E, I decided to walk him there, during which time he opened his heart out to me, saying that he was joking about his suicidal thoughts, and that he reckoned they were going to section him (I got a decent history out of him myself). The best thing I could do was reassure him they were doing what was best, but the strange thing I felt was that I felt more comfortable with him than I do with other 'normal' people. The fact that there was nothing to hide, that he was willing to tell me that he was 'scared' (albeit a bit drunk), I felt secure in his presence. Once we arrived at the A&E, he thanked me and I went on my way.


It's weird how we fear the unknown, but when something or someone seen as dangerous is apparent, we don't feel as scared. Well, at least I don't.