In the assisted care facility, Merle Douglas was wheeled into Dr. James Anderson's office. Merle could walk at a slow pace, but it was easier for the orderlies and nurses to roll her in a wheelchair. There was only so much time.

Merle was a woman in her eighties. She had always been plus-sized and being wheeled around didn't help her weight problem.

"What seems to be wrong?" the doctor asked.

"Ms. Douglas refuses to take her medications, Doctor." Nurse Peta informed him.

"I see.. OK, I'll talk to her."

"Her ID also came off her wrist. We don't know if she pulled it off or it fell off."

James looked more closely at Merle. She didn't have the standard ID wristband.

"I'll have another made up. I'll be back when it's done."

"Thank you."

James looked over Merle's file on the monitor in front of him. She was admitted here after a car accident. She veered off the road. When her condition was investigated, several physical and mental conditions presented themselves at the hospital. She was transferred to this care facility at a later date. It was believed she could never live alone again.

Before James could greet her, Merle said, "I'm so sorry about this. I really am. But I need to get out of here."

"If you stop taking your medication that will be impossible. If it wasn't for the medications we are giving you and the constant monitoring of your condition you would be in big trouble. You are here for your own good." James knew that with Merle's multiple ailments, living alone for her was impossible.

"I'm not saying this is a bad place. But I have to get out of here. The people are really nice. Everyone is friendly. I can see they really care about me."

"Then what's the problem?" They had gotten off track. Merle was here because she refused to take her medication. But something else was afoot.

"I told you I have to get out. I like you. I wish it didn't have to be you. But it does. You will help me."