He looks dead to me.

I started working in health care when I was in the tenth grade, working as an orderly in the small hospital in the town where I lived in Pennsylvania. I worked after school and weekends and later, when I went to college, it was close enough that I could come home to work every weekend.
I had the opportunity to work with some very colorful people at that hospital, but the most memorable was a surgeon named Dr. Erskine. Although he was in his 60's at the time, one got the impression he was somewhere in his 80's. He had white hair and moved at a pace that reminded one of a turtle who was not in a hurry. Even though he looked like he could have operated on Moses, his mind was razor sharp and he had a great sense of humor. He also was having an ongoing affair with the hospital administrator, who started her career there passing out meal trays to patients and never went to college (but that's a story for another time). Here are two incidents that illustrate what a character he was.
My father and I were both volunteers on the local ambulance. We got called out one night to go to a house in town where the husband had died. Back then, the procedure was to transport the person to the hospital to be pronounced dead by a physician and then take the body to the morgue until the funeral home sent someone to pick up the body.
My father and I lifted the body onto the stretcher, put it on the ambulance, and we drove to the hospital.
I went into the Emergency Department to notify the nurse, who called Dr. Erskine in the On-Call Room. My father and I sat on a bench outside of the Emergency Department to wait. Awhile later, Dr. Erskine shuffled out wearing a lab coat over his green scrubs with his white hair sticking up in all directions and his glasses perched on the end of his nose. My father helped him up into the back of the ambulance where he took a seat on the bench opposite the stretcher.
Usually, when physicians pronounce someone dead, they will check for pulse and respirations, sometimes using a stethoscope or checking for a pulse with their fingers. Dr. Erskine apparently felt no need for any of this. He contemplated the gent on the stretcher for a few moments and announced, "He looks dead to me" after which he got up, walked back into the hospital, and went back to bed.
Another incident was related to me involving Dr. Erskine at the scene of a car accident. Dr. Erskine had been instrumental in developing the training program for Emergency Medical Technicians in Pennsylvania, and one day came upon a car accident on the Pennsylvania Turnpike. There were two cars involved, with at least one person injured. He got out of his car and walked up to the accident to help. As he arrived at one of the cars containing an injured person, he was shoved out of the way by a middle-aged woman who loudly announced, "I studied First Aid, I'll help him." Dr. Erskine stepped back for a few seconds, then quietly approaced the woman, leaned down, and tapped her on the shoulder. "When you get to the part of your book where it says 'call the doctor', I'm right here."
Dr Erskine passed away while I was in college (he died when he was on-call at the hospital). Even though this was over 30 years ago, these are treasured memories for me, and I thank you for letting me share them with you.