Chapter 1: Policy Limits

“Alright, Mr. Loomis, we’re ready to discharge you.”

Outwardly, Cathy Gillis, the head nurse for the floor, was speaking calmly and coolly. Inside her head, though, she was doing flips and twirls of sheer joy and relief. In her entire nursing career, she had never dealt with a patient so cranky and disagreeable.

“Patient” was the wrong word to describe Dale Loomis. “Impatient” was more fitting, but only partially described his cantankerous and constant nastiness. Her hospital administration had given her unambiguous instructions. In spite of all of his deficits and disabilities, Loomis was being discharged. He wasn’t leaving in an ambulance, he wasn’t going to a long-term care facility.

Dale Loomis had exhausted all of his insurance benefits, and also reached the liability limits on the Expedition’s coverage. There was no more money to pay for his care, and it was likely to be a year or two before his social security disability benefits might become available, and they were going to be far below the level to pay for any kind of formal care.

Consequently, he was not being sent from the hospital to another institution. Dale Loomis was going home, prone, in the back of his family’s elderly SUV.

The entire way home, he was griping and complaining, while his fuming wife gripped the steering wheel. When they reached the house, she reversed back into the driveway.

The SUV lurched and swayed, the old leaf spring suspension made a loud grinding noise, and Dale groaned from being jostled. Lynn shut off the engine and stepped out. Out of Dale’s line-of-sight, she kissed Francis Greenwood, a friend from work, and thanked him for coming to help with Dale’s transfer. Another man, Dan Martinez, watched them, smirking.

“Hey, what about ME?”

“Sorry, Dan, I’m glad you’re here too. Help me with the garage door, please.”

She kissed him, but it was more casual. Then, they wrestled up the heavy door. Lynn slipped inside and grabbed a 7-foot long pole.

“Frank, pull up the tailgate, please, so I can prop it up with this pole.”

Long ago, the gas cylinders that supported the weight of the lift door lost their pressure. Without the support pole, the door would crash down dangerously into the rear bumper. Dan and Frank were using an army cot as a stretcher, while Lynn and Junior were pulling Dale by the shoulders. Slowly they slid him out of the back of the old SUV and onto the cot as he bitched and complained about how much pain he was in.

Finally, he was fully extracted, and Dan and Frank were struggling to carry him into the house. First, they circled around to hold the cot’s head and foot to get him through the narrow doorways. This caused more uncomfortable jostling, and Dale raged and swore.

“Who are these fucking morons?”

“They are my friends from work, Dale, and if you don’t shut up, they are going to drop your fat ass on the concrete!”