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by
Andrea Vogt ‚
Photography by Robert Hubner
This
cold October morning, Gypsy is resting under a shower curtain duct-taped
to a tarp in a thicket of thorn trees along the Spokane River.
Two
Washington State University students and a Spokane caseworker who
does weekly outreach to the homeless wind along the narrow brushy
trail leading to his camp. The caseworker, Martha Nelson, calls
out to announce the presence of visitors.
"Knock.
Knock. Anybody home?"
"Who
is it?" a man asks.
"It's
Martha, from outreach. I'm here with the nurses."
Gypsy
remembers Martha, and he's been homeless long enough to remember
that the student nurses come each spring and fall. Happy to see
friendly visitors, he comes out in his stocking feet to welcome
them. He apologizes for the mess-garbage and rusted metal-and warns
about the "mine field" of feces in the wooded area he's
designated as his bathroom. He just got back from North Dakota and
hasn't had time to fix up his camp, he explains.
Students
Kate Pavlicek and Jennifer Schwarzer, both 24, ask him if he has
any health needs.
"You
know what I need-some blankets, a sleeping bag. Somebody stole mine
in Fargo. Can you believe that?"
They
chat about his family back in Colorado, and his health. He's battling
emphysema and has been short of breath lately, he says. He peels
off his coat and starts unbuttoning his flannel shirt, revealing
scars on his chest.
"I
think maybe you better take my pulse. I had a triple heart bypass
up in Montana a few months ago. They opened me up like a peanut,
took five veins out of my leg. But I'm taking aspirin."

Student Kate Pavlicek checks
the blood pressure of Gypsy,
who currently lives along the river.
The
nurses look at each other, eyebrows raised, then take his blood
pressure. One-sixty over 100.
"That's
pretty high," says Pavlicek, unstrapping the Velcro band from
his thin, white arm.
"Yea,
that's hard on your heart after a new surgery," adds Schwarzer.
"You need to go in to the clinic tomorrow and get some blood
pressure medicine."
Gypsy
jokes about the jump it gave his heart to see so many pretty young
faces at once. The student nurses laugh and dig into their Jansport
backpacks for juice, two power bars, and some fruit leather, which
he eats on the spot. A carton of a half-dozen eggs on the ground
by his tarp is the only food visible. They promise to check back
the following week and bring blankets if they can. He promises to
go downtown to the free Community Health Association of Spokane
clinic the next morning.
Gypsy's
camp is evidence of the harsh living conditions faced by a growing
number of Spokane's homeless. This day it's also doubling as a WSU
classroom for students being educated as nurses. It's a lesson in
reality that often changes the way they see the world.
"I
personally want to go into public health," says Pavlicek, of
Bremerton. "This opens your eyes totally."
For
Schwarzer, it's been a new take on her hometown.
"I
didn't know there were this many homeless people in Spokane and
had no idea the places they were. You could be walking by a trail
to where they sleep, and never know it. I actually recognize people
now. Instead of 'Oh there's a homeless person over there,' it's
like 'hey there's Gary.' They have names now."
Established
in 1968, WSU's College of Nursing-also known as the Intercollegiate
College of Nursing-is the nation's first, oldest, and most comprehensive
nursing education consortium. The college offers baccalaureate,
graduate, and professional development course work to nursing students
enrolled through its four consortium partners, Eastern Washington
University, Gonzaga University, Whitworth College, and Washington
State University. Each year, the college educates more than 550
graduate and undergraduate students and prepares more entry-level
nurses than any other educational institution in the state. Every
student who graduates with a nursing baccalaureate is required to
take a semester of community health nursing. For some in Spokane,
that means a semester of working with a needy downtown population-among
them the poor, homeless, mentally ill, drug- and alcohol-addicted,
abused.
Read
more
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these
great features in the spring edition of Washington State
Magazine.
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A
Campus Full of Wonders
All over campus, curiosities emerged from
closets to form one of the most popular and unusual shows ever
to fill the art museum.
Memories
Are Made of This
Neuroscientists Jay Wright and Joe Harding
can approximate Alzheimer's symptoms in a rat by injecting a
certain protein into its hippocampus. What's more, they can
reverse these symptoms.
What
Don't We Know?
James Krueger wants to know why the average person
will spend 219,000 hours asleep.
Life
in a Small College Town
Catherine Friel has lived in Pullman nearly 100 years, and she
has some stories to tell.
Opening
Day
Cougars batten their hatches and hoist their mainsails.
The
Peking Cowboy
(fiction by Alex Kuo)He wanted to tell the story in the
third person, but it came out in the first; he wanted to tell
it in the past, but it came out happening in the now; even if
he wanted to, he could not change a word of it, its sequence
and language clarifying its own shape and direction in his voice.
And lots more!
Four
times a year, we send Washington
State Magazine free of charge to Washington State University
graduates, faculty and staff.
But
why keep it in the family? To find out how to send
a copy of the magazine to anyone else who would enjoy reading
about Washington State, visit our send
page.
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