Curfew at the shelter was 7pm. Unless you were working and had a dispensation, if you arrived to a closed door you were on your own. Which is saying a lot because Atlanta-Georgia police seemed to enjoy making sport of the homeless. But staying at the shelter all day was equally as bad. The place held about 500 men (and trans men), many of which were parts of individual gang-like factions. The faction politics and drama were breath-taking! There were actual sociopaths with large followings, a couple masquerading as bible-toting "pastors", that preened and performed. When one inevitably got in your face, you needed to keep your wits and not get angry, to not offend in any way or risk an ass-beating.
An ambulance was called for mother and she was taken to what my sister-in law called "the Black hospital", a structure south of Atlanta, in a more "ethnic region". My only issue was that whenever I came to visit her, she was ALWAYS heavily doped up. The staff explained that mother was too frequently 'combative' and sedation was necessary. Sister-in law, a firebrand female leader among the local Jehovah's Witnesses, was having none of it. With my elder brother as the front, she arranged for mother to be transferred to a more "mainstream" medical center, in the heart of Midtown Atlanta. There, she had double-hip surgery, and then was sent to a rehab clinic. It was at this rehab clinic 2 months later that she died, having done no rehab. I noticed though, during visits, that those "quiet conversations" now took up most of her time and attention. It might explain the lack of rehab efforts. Perhaps those she chatted with were "helping her pack" because it seemed her passing was smooth--one moment, she was monitored and found resting quietly and a few hours later, she had departed.
With mother having died, I had no reason to remain in Georgia. I had no money but did have food stamps--and would stand in front of supermarkets asking people if they would allow me to pay for part of their groceries in exchange for the cash. I explained my situation to everyone and generally received a frosty response, some people rising to anger and accusation. It was frightening; I fully expected social services to suddenly brutally confront me. I researched and visited different markets throughout the city and region to avoid recognition. It took a month to raise the fare for a one-way ticket back to Los Angeles--and I vividly remembered how JUBILANT, how FREEING of pressure I became when I had booked the flight. Georgia, for me, was a TERRIBLE place to live, even worse to be homeless at. I was going home.
Another very good read. Will be looking forward to future additions
Sending !Luv and positive energy your way.
Wishing you the best going forward.
!ctp
!leo
!pizza
!alive
@tuffbud, @fjworld(2/10) sent LUV. | connect | community | HiveWiki | NFT | <>< daily
! help(no space) to get help on Hive. InfoWow @tuffbud this is an amazing story of your life being homeless. I want to learn more. I am glad you are telling this story for others to read. I will reblog this post for you. Thank you.
Barb :) !BBH !CTP
Im so sorry for the loss of your mother @tuffbuf. I'm very happy you got out of Atlanta, Georgia. How was LA? Have a great rest of the week! Barb :) !BBH !CTP
@tuffbud! Your Content Is Awesome so I just sent 1 $BBH (Bitcoin Backed Hive) to your account on behalf of @adcreatordesign. (1/1)
Thank you @bbhbot 😊