brooding ’bout stuff
It was awful. Dissatisfied with the HVAC system in our home I turned to NextDoor, the online neighborhood forum that can provide useful references. I somehow seem to have opted out of its daily or weekly digests but located my login only to be greeted with a missing person notice, a couple of blocks away. Continue reading “Missing/Inaction”
In 1974, a few months after I started working in the same doctor’s office that I wrote about in Little Women, I triaged a woman with a severe and painful case of shingles. As we talked she told me something as if she were desperate to unload a terrible secret. She had witnessed the aftermath of a murder and then been chased by a pickup truck, and was tailgated so closely she couldn’t see its license plate. I ushered the woman into an exam room so “Bernie,” the doctor I supported, could see her. Afterwards, he and I didn’t discuss the woman’s diagnosis, but I did tell him how I’d been pursued by a pickup just before coming to work with him.