He gives the nurses on the second floor of Rideout Memorial Hospital a pretty hard time, and his list of general complaints is long.
But in recent weeks, Medrick "George" King has been able to enjoy some hours of relative peace and has conversed with a wide range of visitors. And he is back to wearing his familiar Korean War Veteran cap.
King, 79, and a colorful Marysville fixture, is best known in recent years as the man who sits on the bench in front of the post office on C Street. From that vantage point, he could chat, pray with or yell at passers-by.
But a severe case of sepsis, a condition which poisons the blood, has kept him at either the hospital or in a local nursing home for the past three months.
"People are very stubborn," he explained, after berating a nurse Wednesday evening. The nurse had dared to move his cup of water to make room for a food tray. "You have to speak to them sharply sometimes."
King said he is in near-constant pain. During the course of a conversation with a visitor Wednesday evening, he took frequent breaks to use an oxygen mask.
"I'm not well here," he said.
Still, he was able to share a few stories and a few laughs.
King complained about information his friend Charlie Dillard shared about him for a recent Appeal-Democrat story. He had not, for example, ever had a job driving a cab, he said, setting the record straight.
"I've been a bank teller, a ditch digger, an ambulance driver, a salesman and a pizza cook," he said. "Never a cab driver."
"Charles Thomas Dillard is a good guy," King explained. "But he's a wacko."
The scruffy beard he normally wears is now gone, replaced by a sporty cowboy's mustache.
He's lost quite a bit of weight, but retains fluid — a situation that causes much discomfort, according to Yuba County Supervisor John Nicoletti, who visits him often.
King's voice bellows through the hospital's west wing on a regular basis.
One nurse grinned Wednesday as the familiar voice started up again from Room 228. She said she was glad to hear him yell.
"It shows you his spirit is still there," she said.
Mary Holt, a close friend of King's since 2007, said she knows King as a caring, generous and deeply spiritual man.
Holt, 35, had her first conversation with King when she served him food at the Veterans Stand Down at Beckwourth Riverfront Park that year. She had been one of the Beale airmen volunteering there that day.
She was surprised some months later when King recognized her at a local Starbucks and struck up a conversation.
Since then, she began to confide in King about everything from her struggle to win custody of her son to problems transitioning to work after leaving the military.
"He has the kindest heart I've ever known," she said. "He can read my face, and he knows when I'm not really happy."
Holt and her son Avery, 8, sat outside the hospital wing Thursday, after being sent away by a highly agitated version of King.
"He's just being George," Holt said, smiling. "I'll come back, It'll be a new day, and things will be fine."
Avery, who has also enjoyed a friendly relationship with King, is accustomed to the bouts of irritability too, she said.
"He calls George, 'Grouchy Smurf,'" she said, laughing.
Any conversation with King, when he's up for talking, usually includes complaints about the city he moved to from San Francisco 20 years ago.
He refers to himself as "George of the Jungle," a reference to Marysville.
Mostly, he gets fired up over people driving too fast here. Sometimes, back when he was feeling better, he would run out into traffic to make his point.
Another key topic is the spiritual intervention he has called upon in difficult moments.
"Right at the crack of dawn in San Francisco on Jan. 15, 1972 — 30 years ago — at Seventh and Market Street," he said on Wednesday, "I raised up my hand and said, 'God, if you're real, take the craving of alcohol out of my life.'"
"And he did," King whispered.
(1972 was 40 years ago.)
The affliction and its symptoms, he said, had been "like mad rats were chewing at your brain."
His prognosis is unclear. King has shown periodic improvement more than once, but then regressed.
"He's used to having all that freedom," Holt lamented.
King said he wants very badly to get outdoors again and back to life as he knew it before he became ill.
He'd like to get back to the post office.
"That's where God wants me," he said.
CONTACT Nancy Pasternack at npasternack@appealdemocrat.com or 749-4781. Find her on Facebook at /ADnpasternack or on Twitter at @ADnpasternack.
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