Standby for Tones Blog

The officer meets us in the garage, and fills us in. It’s my partner, the medic student I’m precepting today, and myself.

The patient inside is 96 years old and fell around noon. It’s nearly 4pm now, and the officer is concerned about not just the skin tear on the elbow after the fall, he’s concerned about the heat of the house’s interior. He’s worried the patient may have dehydration issues. He tells us that the patient’s wife is a resident of a local nursing home and he always goes to see her at 12:30pm. Every day. For the entire four years since she became a resident there. Today, 12:30 came and went and he did not appear. Staff members became concerned, and went to the house. The officer got them inside, and together the three of them discovered our patient on the floor.

We enter the garage and make our way past the large four door mid 1980s sedan parked sedately inside. Winding our way past paneled walls, we climb the three stairs from the finished garage stall to the vintage kitchen. Spotless. Everything our eyes touch, from the countertops and cabinets of the kitchen, to the antiquated appliances and on into the bedspread visible through the doorway off the kitchen – every single thing is pristine, and centered. Meticulously up kept. Winding our way past more paneling to the front living room of the shotgun home, we find our patient.

And Marcy. And Deanna.  >> Click to read more.