It’s a cold Friday night in January. You just finished an uninterrupted meal at the local Chinese restaurant with your partner when you’re dispatched to a house in town for an 88-year-old male with trouble breathing. You pull up to a one-story house, sitting slightly up on a grade. The lights are on and the front door is open. As you enter a musty smell catches you as you lock your eyes on an older male. He’s tri-poding in an old, worn, puffy rocking chair. It’s clear from his fast, shallow, pursed-lip breathing he’s in distress. You introduce yourself and accept his outstretched hand for a shake.

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