My husband was having a mental breakdown. His friends and I said we would walk with him from the Lower East Side to Yonkers, where he was determined to go to gamble, though he didn't have a wallet.

We walked up First Avenue and lured him into the NYU/Langone Emergency room on the pretense that I needed to use the bathroom. I told the security guard that my husband was delusional and a danger to himself. The guard beckoned a nurse, Lucas Freshman, who came right over and knelt next to my husband, who is fairly deaf and does not wear hearing aids. Lucas spoke right into his ear, calmly and with gentleness, humor, and patience. Physicians came over, too, and had brief conversations.

My husband attempted to leave four times, but the security guard gently blocked the door each time. The whole staff was remarkably kind and attentive.

After about an hour, as Lucas and my husband talked about his delusions and baseball, I said, "They aren't going to let you leave. You've taken a lot of Lucas's time here. It's time to go in and get help." Lucas said, "Take all the time you need. I am right here."

My husband said he would go in. Lucas motioned to the wheelchair that had been placed strategically in front of the exit. My husband said, "I'll walk in," and he did.

Lucas made what was a difficult situation as smooth as possible and allowed my husband to maintain his dignity.

My husband doesn't remember clearly what happened in the days before and during his hospitalization, but he does gratefully remember Lucas crouching at his side, talking about baseball and persuading him to check in.

My husband's weeklong hospitalization was also handled with great attention and kindness by the staff on the 5th floor E. He is much better now, with hopes of long-term stability.