"That's not food."
"Well, I wasn't hungry before. I thought I'd get something when I went out."
"Blood pressure is low," Eric commented. "I'll take it again in a minute."
She nodded. "Where's your granddaughter, Mr. Cobb?"
"Working. And you don't need to worry Catherine about this. I'm fine. And I have places to go. I feel better now."
"Give it another minute," she told him, putting a hand on his shoulder as he started to move. "I'm concerned about you, Mr. Cobb. This is the third time you've fallen."
"I told you I just sat down to rest."
"On the floor?"
"It's a free country. I can sit wherever I want. It's none of your business. And you can tell that nosy neighbor to stop calling you."
"She's worried about you, as am I. You need to stay on top of your sugar levels."
"I can take care of myself. I've been doing it for a long time."
She waited another five minutes, then checked his blood sugar again, happy to see the number coming up. "When does your granddaughter get home?"
"Tomorrow. She's out of town, some conference," he muttered.
"Is there anyone else who can check on you?"
"I don't need anyone to check on me."
"I'm concerned about your recurring falls. I'd like to take you to the hospital so they can do a more thorough workup."
"I'm not going to the hospital. I'm fine."
"We'll need you to sign this," Eric said, putting a tablet in front of Walter. "It says you're refusing transport to the hospital. You can just use your finger?—"
"I know. I did it before." Walter scribbled his name on the tablet and handed it back to Eric.
She helped him to his feet, not thrilled at his unsteadiness, but he seemed to gather more strength as he found his balance. "I think you should stay home and rest. Whatever you need to do can wait."
"I don't need some kid like you to tell me what to do," he grumbled. "I'm fine now."
She hesitated, but Eric's muttered, "Mercer," made her realize she needed to move on, even though she wasn't comfortable leaving Walter alone. But she was a paramedic, not a babysitter, and he was stable. "Eat something. A peanut butter sandwich would be a good start."
"I will," he promised.
She followed Eric out the door and back to the ambulance. "That's not a good living situation," she said as she got behind the wheel.
"Maybe not, but it's not up to you to change his living situation," Eric said pragmatically. "I didn't realize your sharp edge hid such a soft heart, Mercer."
She frowned. "I'm not being soft, I'm assessing the situation, and it's not good."
"We followed protocol. Let's move on. We have another call."
"I know. I got it." But before she could tell dispatch that they were responding, they were waved off and told to return to the station.
"We could have spent more time after all," she said with a sigh.
"And done what? Make him a sandwich?"
