I know this is formatted a little wierdly, but it should be easier to read.
It had been a very long day, and Marie was having difficulty thinking of anything other than her bathtub, and settling down with her favorite Jane Austen for a nice, relaxing, bubble bath. Sighing, she led the way into her office, preparing herself for the final interview of the day, which was promising to be the longest and most difficult of her career. She settled herself down in her leather swivel chair, stacked the patient’s files on her desk, and shook her head at the next-of-kin and power-of-attorney.
“But he’s crazy! I swear it, my father is insane!”
“I’m sorry, Mr. Fuller, but we see no reason to keep your father here any longer. He has demonstrated soundness of mind and decent health. We do recommend, however, that if he lives alone, you arrange for someone – like a maid, for instance, but we’d prefer a nurse of some kind – to be at the house for a short time each day, just so that he has human company, and so someone will notice if things get worse.”
“They’ll get worse within the next day! He’s faking sanity! We’ll be bringing him back to you in a straightjacket tomorrow!”
“Mr. Fuller, the only kind of medical care your father needs is routine check-ups every other month, and those only as a precaution that is recommended by physicians everywhere for elderly patients.”
“Have you not seen him with that – that – that thing? How can you think he’s sane? He’s got to be locked up!”
“Mr. Fuller, we at Shady Shoals believe in restraining those whose insanity poses a threat to themselves or others. We would never ‘lock up’ a patient for eccentricity!”
David Fuller sat and gaped at her. Marie sighed. She’d met with Mr. Fuller, Senior earlier that day. He was a charming old man who invited her into his hospital room, as though he were there by choice and completely in control of the situation, offered her a soda or a cookie, and, when she refused, said exactly the same thing that her grandfather had always said – that she was breaking his heart, and maybe next time he wouldn’t offer her anything, and then how would she feel? Marie knew he was eccentric, but she also knew that when a man is eighty-five years old, has seen the deaths of all his brothers and his wife, has served in a war, and, a concert pianist, has begun to lose his hearing, if he wants to carry around a doll everywhere, he should be allowed to.
“Ms Sharpe, please… I’m begging you. You’ve got to take my father. I can’t stand him anymore!”
“Mr. Fuller, if I could take him in to save him the embarrassment of being your father, I would, but I can’t. I refuse to deprive anyone of their freedom based on a filial disagreement. He may be crazy for making you his power-of-attorney, but I can’t commit him to this asylum.”
“Please, Ms Sharpe, you’ve got to understand – “
“Mr. Fuller, you’re wasting my time. You have five seconds to get out of here before I call security.”
David Fuller gaped again, but hopped up like a Mexican jumping bean when she started counting in her bullhorn voice.
Marie counted to fifteen in her head. Exactly as she said “fifteen,” she heard the squeal of Mr. Fuller’s engine. Sighing with relief, she grabbed her purse and slipped quietly down the stairs to her car.
