When I met Timothy in Birmingham, Alabama he was having a hard time standing up straight and was leaning against a wall. I could tell he was in pain so I went up and talked to him. We didn’t get very far before he was in so much pain that he really couldn’t talk coherently.
Timothy: I’ve been sick for so damn long. My grandmother done died of [heart] disease. I didn’t know she was gonna die.
BW: What’s going on with you?
Timothy: My heart. They say I got somethin’ wrong with the chamber. It’s leaking. It’s like it’s misfiring.
BW: Did they say they could do surgery?
Timothy: They ain’t done nothin’. It’s been so long, since I was a kid. But I hurt so bad now I can’t hardly walk. I get to where I can’t use the bathroom and I can’t keep my food down.
We talked for a few minutes longer and he told me a little about how he had been raised by his grandma and really regretted not being able to visit her grave. I offered to take Timothy to the hospital and he declined.