A patient running away is a rare and unpleasant event for everyone involved. Most of all due to the life-threatening danger to he patient himself. In this case, he had leapt over not only a fence, but thirty or forty years as well. We didn't know what effect this collision with another reality would have. What’s more, the incident could eventually lead to an investigation and a closing of the community, to yet another round of arguments with the guild about the advisability of such therapy, whether we had the right to "synchronize" internal and external time, and so on.
Until there's a cure, perhaps weary travelers should embrace author Pico Iyer's outlook: "Because jet lag is so much a part of my life now, I tell myself I will make the most of it; attend to it, enjoy its disruptions, as I would those of a geographically foreign place."
When we go on EMS calls we likely need to fly folks off the island (there's no hospital here). When we do we work closely with our air assets, choppers, small planes, etc. and the incredibly skilled pilots and flight nurses inside them. Apparently, when they depart, each air asset needs to account for people on the plane (in the case they crash) and they do this by counting the number of souls aboard. They don't differentiate between crew and patient/s as each alive person is a soul aboard, dogs are not counted as a soul aboard, neither are cadavers or unborn children (which makes me think it's not a religious remnant).
"Just as the emergence of tree intelligence forever changed the planet, so the emergence of consciousness (which long predated humans) forever changed the nature of evolution. Cultural transmission is orders of magnitude faster than genetic transmission, and digital transmission has accelerated the speed of culture a hundredfold or more. We may soon seem, to our artificial intelligence offspring, as motionless and insentient as trees seem to us. And here we live, trying to make a home between our predecessors and our descendants."
Whoever has learned how to listen to trees no longer wants to be a tree. He wants to be nothing except what he is. That is home. That is happiness. -Hermann Hesse
“The palo santo trees bear the lichens effortlessly, unconsciously, the way they bear everything. Their multitudes, transparent as line drawings, crowd the cliffsides like whirling dancers, like empty groves, and look out over cliff-wrecked breakers toward more unpeopled islands, with their freakish lizards and birds, toward the grieving lagoons and the bays where the sea lions wander, and beyond to the clamoring seas.”