Runaway

When he came seeking help, he captured our attention with his blunt refusal to give us his name or any other data. He captured our hearts with his spirit.

Some times he came to us for help on a regular basis, which we encouraged, but most often it was a hit-and-miss situation. He never had money and all of us, including him, pretended payment wasn't necessary.

He said he had a place to stay and family to help. If so, it didn't extend to the zipping of pants and tying of shoes. Probably, he didn't have relatives, but he didn't need them. He collected caring, sheltering friends like a magnet.

We didn't press him for too much information for fear that he might not come back. The first fact he gave us was his name. The next time, he told us he was a runaway. And then a few weeks later, he quite proudly gave us the telephone number of the home from which he had run.

His room hadn't been a comfort, for all its niceness, he told us. It had been a holding place; it held him from freedom. He'd watched from the window until he had been sure of the schedule and saved his money until he'd been "near about" sure he had enough.

Then, and only then, he packed his suitcase and walked to the corner. Within minutes, a Greyhound Bus appeared. How he got from there to us, we never knew. Whether it took more than one bus ticket we didn't ask and, at the moment, he wasn't divulging any additional details.

When I called the home where he'd lived, the man in charge said, "He's a charmer." Then added, "I'm glad he's safe." They knew he hadn't wandered off because his suitcase and clothes were missing.

Our Emergency Room staff continued to treat him for his diabetes and, each time, they called me to come from the Business Office to approve his free care. After a while, he gave us his social security number and then we knew, for sure, who he was and where to find him. And where to bill for his care in the future.

Lookin' back, I wish he'd been more inclined to talk. I wanted so much to know what strengths I'd need to run away from a nursing home at the age of 82.