Finding a ride to Marin Hospital for a routine cancer screening should have been simple. It was not.
Marin County has many meditation cushions, kombucha on tap and a mantra of mindfulness. What it does not appear to have is a reliable way to get someone home after anesthesia.
I moved here four years ago from San Francisco. I know a few people. I volunteer at a Buddhist retreat center. I donate to the community. I walk dogs for free. I’m single, reasonably pleasant and entering my sixth decade, which one would think qualifies me for at least one uncomplicated favor from humanity.
I asked a well-connected friend in Fairfax. Busy. Her friends? Also busy. A neighbor? Busy again. I offered an underemployed guy $250 to drive my car and wait for three hours. A hard no. A woman I was dating promised she would help anytime. That anytime magically disappeared.
Rideshare was forbidden. Liability. The hospital wanted someone reliable and not summoned via an app. It seems Uber drivers can handle a drunken customer’s barf but not be trusted to deliver a post-anesthesia rider home.
So, I went back to my Hawaiian roots. An old friend flying to Oakland from Honolulu shifted his dates, rented a car, drove to West Marin, took me to the hospital, waited two and a half hours, and drove me home. While he wouldn’t take money, I’ve since made it up to him with dinners in Hawaii and an open invitation to come and stay anytime. I’ll never forget that simple favor.
Years ago, after shattering a bone and relearning how to walk, I made a vow. If anyone truly needs a ride to the doctor and I can do it, I will. My own suffering became the doorway to understanding how to help someone else.
Here’s the punchline. Community is not built with apps, intentions or mindfulness.
It is built when someone shows up.
Kurt Umbhau lives in Marin.
