I remember feeling scared because whenever he was awake, he had that serious demeanor and a look in his eyes that told you he was thinking. He was as curious about this "Asian girl" as I was of him. He was soft-spoken when he talked of his family growing up, hippie days, a broken marriage, about brushes with the law.
He had Hepatitis C. Incurable. And he was always bleeding from somewhere. As I said, I was very new so it made me nervous going inside his room. He liked to follow me around, too, not only with his eyes, but physically. So I was always afraid he might slam the door one day and attack me. Really. Such thoughts on "Jesus." But I was always firm though kind, and he was compliant. At one point he said, I was becoming more and more Pittsburghian, and I didn't need to do that. He said to keep being Asian. What he didn't know was I was truly scared so I think I may have upped my act a little bit to gain some confidence.
He was homeless. I guess he found solace in that little room, and the consistency of the staff that cared for him. But one day they moved him to another floor. That day, I was assigned to other patients. But he requested that I transport him. I did. He looked very sad.
Within one week, "Jesus" died.
The kindness that we do today goes a long, long way. (I'd credit the person but I don't even know who said this.)