“If she was my mom, I would take her to the hospital.”

I said in the parking lot, to a refugee family from South Asia, through their car window. The patient in the back looked like my mom. She was comfortable, but had a sat of 84% and heart rate of 110. I also knew she had diabetes and lived in a dense apartment. She and her extended family had been my patients for years, since they arrived in the country.

The patient’s daughter was in the front, and grandson was driving. What I didn’t tell them was “Spend an hour with her before you go in, because as soon as she is…