"Where are you going?'

"I'm leaving. I don't belong here!"

"Of course, you belong here, Mrs. Jacobson. It's where all your friends are."

"I'm not Mrs. Jacobson. I'm not Mrs. anyone. I'm not a woman."

"Don't be silly," the young attendant told the person she thought was Mrs. Jacobson. Then into her transmitter. "I need three orderlies by the front door."

"Do I look like Mrs. Jacobson?"

The attendant nodded her head.

"This is a place for old people. I'm not old."

"No one said you're old."

"I'm only twenty-five."

"No," the attendant stated as she shook her head. The attendant tried to remain calm and reassuring. She knew Mrs. Jacobson well. Mrs. Jacobson is a woman approximately eighty years old (78 to be exact) with a case of mild dementia, as well as other age-related ailments. The attendant had seen Mrs. Jacobson walking toward the front entrance and stopped her before she could leave the premises.

"You have to listen to me. I'm not Mrs. Jacobson. My name is Kenneth Ellis. I'm a man. I'm young. I don't belong here. I want to leave."

"You expect to go out dressed like that?" Kenneth wore a blue and pink floral house dress and fuzzy slippers.