Suitemates are more like neighbors, and they have come and gone, often to their final resting places. It’s a small corner of the world, but this Reston nursing-home room has been his corner since 1992, two years after he was shot in the neck in Southeast Washington.

Soon, he will leave, too. The specialized respiratory-care unit that has kept him alive is closing as soon as Monday. The inevitability of moving is fraught with anxiety. Not knowing where he will end up is worse. For weeks, he feared being “dumped” in a standard hospital where he wouldn’t receive the care he needs.

The uncertainty has taken a toll.

“It feels like I’ve been shot all over again,” Chapman said of his impending transfer.

The situation is a result of health-care economics. Commonwealth Care of Roanoke, which bought the facility in 2010, decided that there wasn’t “sufficient demand” for the services in Northern Virginia, said Nancy Waters, director of staff and community relations for the company.

Chapman is a legend of sorts at Cameron Glen, where staff members are fond of his energetic spirit and have come to know his children over two decades. He communicates with the outside world using a special computer that he operates with mouth and neck movements. He composes e-mails by talking into a microphone.

Family members have packed up for him. There’s the Xerox picture of him and Vanessa Williams just after she was crowned Miss America. There are photos of his late parents, his children and one of a young Jeffery Chapman posing on a neighborhood street. He is anxious about the move.

“Cameron Glen is really all he knows,” said Chapman’s daughter, Domonique Woodard, 25, who has been visiting Room 1224 since she was 6. A graduate student in physical rehabilitation, she fondly remembers their talks about medical equipment and health care. “I think he’s a little afraid of the unknown, because trust is so important when you rely on people to do things correctly to make sure you stay alive.”

Where Chapman will land is unclear. He said Saturday that Cameron Glen’s staff had potentially found a similar facility in the District, but he does not know when he’ll be admitted. On Friday, after inquiries from The Washington Post, Waters said Chapman will remain at Cameron Glen until a bed is found at another nursing home.

Three of Chapman’s neighbors who need similar care have been moved to other facilities, he said. Chapman, who is the only one left in the unit, spends his last days in a nearly vacant room as he entertains well-wishers and friends. Amid the uncertainty, he often ends a thought this way: “I’ve truly been blessed.”