Ihave said for a long time that one of my first retirement projects will be to write a book of stories from my home health career. Thirty-five plus years of home visits in West Virginia, Utah and Idaho have brought some unforgettable memories into my life. One absent and unknown detail of my career is a count or tally of the number of patients or homes I have entered. I strongly regret not being more fastidious about such information. My guess is that it would be well over a thousand. Some stories will be humorous. Others will be sad or heartwarming. And some will be a bit frightening. The story I want to tell you today fits into the last category.

My job duties at Montgomery General Hospital, 30 miles southeast of Charleston, included the multiple patient demographics of inpatient, nursi

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