The old man sat in his wheelchair, staring out the window when the EMS crew arrived. They asked what the problem was, and he said,
“I need to get out of here. I hate this place. They won’t let me smoke.”
“Well, you have POA, so we can take you to the hospital, but if we do that, you’ll be kicked out of hospice and you’ll need to start the whole process over again,” the paramedic responded.
While the man spoke and the paramedic spoke to him, he never looked away from the window. The room smelled as all nursing homes do - like dead skin, urine, and bad food.
“I’ll talk to the nurse about our options and be right back,” the medic said.
“Where are you from?” the young EMT asked.
“Indiana.”
“Is that where you took that picture of the buffalo?” The EMT pointed at the framed photo next to his family photos and his copy of the King James Bible.
“No. That was outside of Gainesville. There’s buffalo in Florida.”
“I didn’t know that.”
“It’s not just strip malls and crowded beaches.”
The paramedic returned, holding his portable computer and wearing a stethoscope around his neck.
“I spoke to your daughter, Claire. She really wants you to stay.”
“I’ll stay.”
“It’s for the best. I know this place is a hassle, but it’s for the best.”
“I hate this place.”
“I understand, sir. We’re going to take a set of vital signs, and then we’ll get out of your hair.”
The man looked out the window as he had been while the EMT took his blood pressure and pulse rate and reported the numbers to the paramedic.
“Everything looks good. Sign here, Marshal, and we’ll get out of your hair.”
The man signed, and they left.