This Body

As we parked in front of the well appropriated Laurelhurst home, I noticed several police cars parked around the house. There were about five police officers in the house and they looked at us with faces that shouted their appreciation for our arrival. I'd never encountered this look from the seasoned Portland cops I was used to working with and it made us wonder what was up. 

 One cop motioned upstairs. When I looked up the stairs I saw a healthy-looking, middle-aged man standing at the toilet in his underwear. The bathroom was directly in line with the long staircase and another officer stood at the door and looked quite eager for me to come up. Upon arrival at the top of the stairs I saw a wild look in our patent's eyes. He was aware of our presence and of the people in his home, but it was obvious he was in serious distress. 

 The man looked at me and spoke of himself in the third-person. "This body has to use the restroom," he exclaimed. After he finished using the toilet he turned to go downstairs. At the bottom of the stairs stood his worried wife and teenage daughter. He walked up to a table and began to collect his wallet, keys, and spare change. "This body has to have his stuff," he said directly to me. He was purposeful and intentional. 

Although he was distressed, walking around in his underwear, and speaking of himself in the third person, I could tell he was thinking somewhat rationally. Whenever he would speak, I would tell him, "I understand." It wasn't a lie; I knew he was in distress and I understood that. It didn't matter that I didn't understand his purposes or actions; I saw him and heard him. 

 Through the confusion of the scene, I learned that he was the manager of a nice Portland restaurant that was rapidly going bankrupt. The employees hadn't been paid in a few weeks and some had accused this distressed man of stealing from the till. He looked at me and told me that "this man must go get dressed before leaving."  He obviously knew that we'd be taking him to the hospital and he didn't want to go in his underwear. I asked my partner, Sandy, to go get the stretcher and I followed the man upstairs. 

 As he entered the bedroom and went over to his clothes which were lying on the bed, he told me that he had no intention of committing suicide. "If this body was going to do that," he calmly said, "I'd have used this." as he casually pulled a 12 gauge shotgun from under the bed and mindlessly pointed it at me. With a calm, understanding attitude, I replied, "I understand." (Meanwhile, several cops rushed in and took the gun away from him.) 

 With that, we walked back downstairs, with me saying, "I understand," a lot. We walked into the cool night air and out to the ambulance (Where Sandy and replaced the gurney). Before we left, he asked for a glass of water, which we got for him. Then we quietly drove to the hospital while I continued to be empathetic. 

Upon arrival at Providence Medical Center, we walked into the emergency department and turned our friendly, psychotic patient over to the staff there. My partner and several of the cops thought I'd performed some magic act with this man. But all I did was offer him the kind of respect and listening ear we all crave on a day to day basis. 

 {edits made to correct spelling and meaning errors}