Homeless Skin

One of the things I have always noticed most homeless people have in common is their skin. Perhaps "in common" is the wrong expression. Sometimes its flaky and ashen. Sometimes its sun baked and leathery. Sometimes it has rashes. Sometimes its has open wounds.

Perhaps I should say it inversely. People with homes all have the same skin. Forget color. You show me two people with a home and I'll show you two people with very similar skin. Sure, maybe one works outside and has hardened hands and a deep tan while the other's skin is soft and white. But there are no persistent rashes. No reoccurring ailments.

What's the cause? Well, its a combination of things. Think about it. Outside often. In the sun often. On the ground often. Increased exposure to contaminants (or in my case, possibly allergenic plants) Fewer changes of clothing. Fewer launderings. Fewer showers.

More shit on you; fewer was to get it off.

Said another way, a home is basically walls. I can usually find something to get under. Under a freeway overpass. Under an awning. But I have no place to get in. Even when I manage a place with walls (like my car or tent) it is small and very hard to keep clean. Think about how often you are protected by the walls of your house. Now, take all those times away. What protects you now?

Your skin. Your skin is the last wall. The final rampart that draws the definitive line between you and the world. And should you ever become homeless, your skin will be the organ that bears the brunt of what the world has in store for you.

I have homeless skin.

I don't know if I'm surprised. I sort of expected it (as I've always known it was one of the common struggles), but I also thought my particular brand of vagrancy would be exempt. I have rashes.

One is a reaction from a plant. Its not real bad, but it starts around my waist and extends down my left leg. Must have brushed some Poison Something, then inadvertently itched it down my leg. Not unexpected. I'm out in the bush, and some of the bush is itchy.

The other rash is a bit more unique. See, part of my version of homelessness involves me keeping my job. I have to look nice, and I have to smell nice for the normal world. I had originally planned on getting a gym membership as a way of gaining regular access to showering facilities. But I never did, instead defaulting to bathing in the wilderness.

Here's how I do it. I pack out a 64 oz. bottle and soap and shampoo. In the morning, after breaking camp, I would wash myself. Naked. In the wild.

It works... well enough, I suppose. I don't get that awesome clean feeling one gets after a hot shower or a long bath, but I feel passable. Also, I would find the opportunity to shower in one of the houses at which I would crash. But one day, I started itching. Not just any itching.

Genital itching.

Now, I've used to give the sex and relationship talk for a teen development organization. I remember health class. I've even spent some sobering hours searching sexually transmitted diseases on the internet. But I'm perplexed. Lets just say my current sexual behavior shouldn't be infectious.

Unlike most vagrants, I have health insurance. Not from teaching, but through the Church. I suppose Christianity has always concerned itself with healing. I just so happened that I found myself in a dermatologist's office a few days after the itching started (had made an appointment for something else about a week earlier).

Between my reflections and the doctor's knowledge, we put it together. Wouldn't you know that soap is an allergen. That's right. We are all allergic to soap. Now, not very allergic, which is why we can stand to put it all over our bodies. But if you leave soap on your body (that is perhaps, if you are bathing out of a 64 oz. bottle and don't get it all rinsed off...) you can have an allergic reaction.

So here I am. Despite my efforts for cleanliness (in fact, because of them), I have rashes over various parts of my lower body. I'm pretty good at not scratching my itches. I've always been the person who can keep meditating when the fly has landed on my face. Also I've had some nearly whole body Poison Oak disasters that really put this kind of suffering in perspective. The worst, though, is at night. I guess I don't have the same focus and self control when I'm sleepy (go figure), and there are times that I wake up and I'm frantically scratching scratching scratching. And once I've started, its very hard to stop.

Fortunately, the doctor gave me a little sample of hydrocorisone and I've been working to get the rashes under control.

I also finally got that gym membership, and am looking forward to full showers daily. Even as I write this the American economy is worse than its been in almost a century. But I submit to you this question for meditation and subsequent gratitude.

Do you have the ability to shower daily? Better yet, do have unfettered access to hot water and total privacy? How about an endless selection of scented concoctions with which to clean yourself, with every nuanced step from flowery or bold available for just a few dollars?

Yes? I do not contend that you don't have struggles, but if your answer to these questions is yes, I pray you count yourself among the lucky.