It was not so long ago that I found myself (again) up at the big VA Hospital in Oklahoma City. It was a cold day and the crowd at the hospital was a little bigger than usual. As I got off a squeaky elevator on the 4th floor, I paused to watch a drama unfolding before me. A veteran was seated on the padded bench and a female VA security person stood there telling the man, “You can sit there all you want, but you can’t lay down on it.” The guy looked at the small crowd that had paused to watch. She went on to tell him, “If you need help with housing just say so.” The girl was aware that she had a biased audience looking over her shoulder as she explained that she could see that he would be taken to a shelter. The embarrassed Vietnam veteran simply slid into the nearby elevator and vanished.

I went on trying to forget this homeless Vietnam veteran guy. I checked in and was told to find a seat. I found a seat and immediately noticed this paleghostly- looking guy right across from me. He looked more like a ghost than a man. He was looking at the guy in a wheelchair who was missing both of his legs. The ghostly guy looked at me and said in a soft voice, “makes you appreciate what you got.” I wondered to myself what he had to appreciate.

I hadn’t said anything yet, but the pale guy was still looking at me. I asked him where he lived. “Wichita Falls” he answered. I rode up here on the veteran’s van. As to where I live, he continued with, “I’m about near homeless as you can get but I live in an old motorhome. It’s in a guy’s back yard but I’m thankful for it. It lets me sleep dry. My church bought me a really good sleeping bag so I have a good place to sleep. Just me and my little dog.

“I’m thankful for my motorhome. I have a little propane bottle that fires my stove if it gets too cold. I use it sparingly but I’m thankful for all I have. The people from my church are so good to me — they bring me food. My Sunday school teacher says he would drive me up here if I would just let him know when, but the van is good to pick me up and get me here. When I look at how bad some of these other guys have it, I just thank God for what I have.”

I asked this pale veteran if he had had anything to eat today — as he looked more than thin, he looked emaciated. He answered no and in fact I didn’t eat yesterday either. In my letter the VA wrote me they told me to not eat so as not to mess up the tests they plan on running today. “But I’m OK,” he said. A guy in church came out and gave me a 12 inch TV and the guy I live by ran me an extension cord. “People are good,” he said. I then asked my new friend, “Do you draw a check?” He said no, “they won’t give me anything. This guy who comes to see me says he can get me into federal housing and get me a VA check. The man told me I’d have to get rid of my dog. I told him thanks, but I would get by somehow where I am. I want to just stay in my motorhome with my dog.”

I kept on being nosy. “What are they testing you for anyway?” He replied, “The doctors say I have a softball sized thing in my chest, and I guess I know what that means — and I don’t even smoke. He laughed at this and said, if I could place my little dog in a good place, I might just let those good people put me over in federal housing and draw that check. At least I’d sleep warm and eat OK. But I would probably worry about what happened to my little dog. He’s all I got.”

The nurse called my name, and I looked in my wallet and found a $20.00 bill. Not much for a homeless, terminally ill veteran whose main asset is a soon to be homeless dog. “You’re in my prayers.” I went on, hoping somehow my new friend would be taken care of. By someone else.

Be sure to go to church Sunday and remember to thank God for what you got.

Wayne Bullard, DPh cwaynebullard@gmail.com