Is There Anthrax On Me?

Alright, so today was pretty funny. And sad. I can't help it, it was more humorous than sad. My client this morning was bipolar schizophrenic. He saw and spoke to people that I couldn't see or hear. All of his mail is being sent to him with anthrax on it. A Native American woman is following him from Gresham to here and she won't give him his money, because she is involved with the terrorists and George Bush. He was a nice guy, and it pained me to see him so not...okay, I guess is the word. I was able to elicit more information from him than the last worker had, and he was sweet enough to ask me, "Are you sure you didn't get any anthrax on you?" after I handed him his papers back. He told me that everything was okay as long as I wasn't wearing a wire. (I told him "Not today.")
I couldn't get much helpful information from him, but it was obvious he needed medication. So I granted him MediCal and got him a Homeless Bag (contains blanket and pillow, etc.) and sent him on his way. I couldn't give him food stamps, as he was getting food stamps in three other states.
It annoys me that in order to grant someone else MediCal, someone who is "okay", we require so much information; if we don't get it, too bad so sad, no MediCal.
On the other hand, I kinda wish I could just hang out with him for awhile. I'd like to hear more about the things he sees and hears. Seems like it would be very intriguing.