Smiles for the Bag Lady

May I share with you an interesting little roller coaster ride I took recently? It was eye opening, disappointing about the state of our world, and made me more determined to try to do better for people who are less fortunate than me, even if only in small ways. One way is to try to inspire people to think.

I live in a small town an hour’s drive from Ballarat, one of Victoria’s smaller regional cities. I’ve had a few ups and downs in life, as we all do, but I think I’m doing okay. Last week (June 2021) was one of those troughs – brought to you by my friendly neighbourhood gallstones!

However, although the catalyst for my little adventure, it was not the gallstones that … um … stuck in my gall!

I visited my GP, she recorded a temp of 39 and stuck me unceremoniously into an ambulance; and although grateful, I had nothing but my purse and phone! Staff at Ballarat Base Hospital were wonderful, from orderlies to surgeons. After three days of pain meds and antibiotics for the infection that was the far greater concern, I was to be discharged. And this is where things got a bit interesting for me.

On receiving the news, I immediately showered for the journey home, using soap in my greasy hair, hospital issue knickers which had minimal ability to ‘stay up’, and dressed in the daggy clothes I was wearing on admission, oversized t-shirt, tracksuit pants and worn-out moccasins. I had a grey plastic bag to put my phone and purse in with the huge bag of meds I had to take home, and bundled my long, grey, tangled, wet hair up in a scrunchie. I rang my sister-in-law who could pick me up that afternoon. However, being that she and my brother are moving to Perth in a couple of weeks, I wanted to see if I could get home under my own steam. I decided to try to get to the local train station which was about five blocks away (all downhill thankfully).

While Sturt Street was not packed, there were quite a lot of people out walking Ballarat’s main street for a wintry Saturday afternoon – families, groups of teens, older people. They were visiting restaurants, clothing shops, galleries and cinemas.

The first group of people approaching me was a mixed group of teens. The first thing I noticed were the eyes cast in every direction except at me. I was wearing a mask in respect for Covid, but I think I was the only one that day. As this group got closer, the expressions closed and the conversation stopped as we passed by, with them giving me a fairly wide berth. I happened to catch a glance over my shoulder, and they all started smiling and sniggering. Could be nothing, I figured. They’re teens, after all.

But the behaviour was repeated with the next group, a family I surmised. They gave me the lion’s share of the footpath, pointedly ignored me, then began talking in hushed tones after we had passed.

This was a new experience for me. I knew what I looked like – clearly someone down on their luck, possibly in pain, and of course lots of nasty looking bruises on the insides of my arms. I had also forgotten to cut off the hospital ID band, but I honestly don’t think that thing registered with them.

Was I being paranoid? I did feel bad about what I looked like, so I made a point of trying not to judge. The next to walk past me was a middle-aged couple, heading towards a restaurant. It happened again – not looking at each other, although looking everywhere but me! Once past, hushed tones, smirks.

Hello Ballarat. Do you not have people down on their luck and in need of kindness? Would you have freaked out if I’d asked for a couple of dollars for bus fare?

I made it to the railway station where my sister-in-law caught up with me, and I returned home without drama. It’s wonderful to have family and friends who can help you out of a bind. But what if you don’t have family and friends? What if, for some nasty twist of fate which can happen to absolutely anyone, there is no one for you to call? If anyone had asked me if I were okay, I would have thanked them for their concern and declined any offer of help. Despite the rough patch, I really was okay. But what if I wasn’t?