A week ago I started work at Street Nurses. And today I meet a patient for the first time. I am excited, enthusiastic, but of course also a bit worried: will Mr. M. want to meet me, how will he respond to this contact? Many questions are spinning through my mind.
We arrive at the rest and care home where he currently lives. Here he doesn't get what he needs, but we have no choice. This is currently our only option to prevent him from ending up on the street. He is uncomfortable and regularly runs away.
The purpose of our visit is to take him to a PLI (Protected Living Initiative) to see if there is room for him there, one which better covers his needs.
He is already waiting for us at the home and seems happy that he can join us. We greet each other and he immediately shakes hands with us. He does not speak French or Dutch, but broken English. My expectation of a distant contact appears unfounded. My doubts and concerns immediately evaporate.
Since that day, we have often tried to find an accommodation more adapted to his needs. In vain. He did not get a place in this PLI. The search proved to be extremely complex as alcohol addicts find many obstacles on their way.
Four months after the first meeting, we lost sight of him. We contacted the homeless network, but unfortunately no one has yet heard from him. Today, we don't know if we'll ever find him again.
The disappearance of our patients is part of our work; it’s a reality I had to learn to accept.
Gaëlle, social worker
Does this story touch you?
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(*) We do our utmost to respect the privacy of our patients and our professional secrecy. However, we want to testify to how they must survive and how we are working together to reintegrate them. As a result, the names of places and people are deliberately omitted or changed and real-life situations are placed in a different context. There is no direct link between the photos and the stories above.