December 29, Dorothy's birthday.

    As usual, I went to bed as late as possible, hoping to be able to fall asleep. I finally did, or so I thought, but was awakened by that familiar staccato rapping sound, measured, metallic-sounding almost. But this time instead of the usual sequence of 3, the raps continued and louder.  I didn't think it was a bird now that it was winter time, so started to worry.  Dorothy appeared and offered to go outside to check to see what the noise might be. I told her that David had installed a new sensory light, so the area should be  visible when she walked outside. I noticed as she walked out the front door that she had her pocketbook, two-toned brown with a short strap, slung snugly over her shoulder. So I thought she was not coming back. She stepped out the door, but said she could not see around the corner and felt too uneasy to go  over there. That was it. 

  Later, I got up and looked out the front window, thinking I might see if any tire tracks were visible in the snow, but the snow had melted, so I saw nothing.  

Hearsay

 

That Christmas Eve eve

   Dorothy was leaving that evening, December 23, 2003. She often stayed over, but she had to be home that night. I wasn't feeling well, but she told me I'd be okay.  I'd been sitting in the chair by the door and at  about 11 o'clock, I got up to go to bed. Dave had already retired for the night. When I got to the hallway, I just sank to the floor. I felt sick and couldn't move. Dave was near panic, but he called M. who then lived just down the road. . She arrived in short order, and decided we should go to the Emergency Room. We went to Saratoga Hospital because I had just finished the last of the chemo and radiation  treatments a few weeks before, and thought there might be some carryover  with the oncologist. There wasn't though; when you're finished, you're done, except for the required checkups.

   We got to Saratoga late that night. The emergency room was in an uproar dealing with a woman who was tripping out on something, so there was a delay. Dave had thoughtfully brought a blanket and pillow, thinking I would be lying down in the back of the vehicle enroute to the hospital, but I sat in the front seat. I would have felt worse lying down. So Dave made use of that equipment. He went out to the vehicle to take a nap. After all, he had already gone to bed that night. 

  When things settled down, the young nurse and M. also young then engaged in friendly conversation, each acknowledging they had not gotten the flu shot. The flu was rampant then but they felt young and invincible. The doctor, whose name was similar to Dr.  John Bonjovi,  came to the room and said I was positive for the flu, strain A. I would be admitted unless I chose to go home, which I did. It was almost Christmas!  He said I should avoid others, especially the young and when he found out how young my grandchildren were, one  2 years old and  the other only a few months, he said to have no contact with them. So I was housebound that Christmas. Dave was here, of course, but he went to whatever were the festivities. M. brought me an array of sickroom goodies. I remember enjoying the butterscotch candies which I hadn't known came in rolls like Lifesavers.

   So I think of Barbara maybe being alone this Christmas, or maybe not. Who knows.  

  I watched most of Homeward Bound this evening. Probably the best of television broadcasts this year at least. Just when I thought artistry and decorum were non-existent, I realize I  was wrong and felt humbled by the performances. I have long thought Sound of Silence may be the best song ever written, but his other works are equal. So off to Graceland we go.

So lock me up...

    Today I was waiting in the checkout line on the upper level of Boscov's when a minor disturbance occurred.  A young, probably teenaged, girl was running at top speed from the right side of the store to the left, and ducking out of sight among the clothing display racks. The clerk and other customers momentarily paused their transactions  and looked, but nobody said anything, no reason to really.  At about the same time a man, inelegantly dressed, strode across from the left to the right side of the room. As he passed, he said hello to me. I didn't recognize him, but I had the thought he  resembled the missing man from the accident.  

It's not me; it's them. Sometimes anyway

  Patient Portals are wonderful uses of technology. At least they can be. I have several , and rely on them frequently for almost instant test results, and to make or cancel appointments. On Monday, I tried to contact  the Portal at the  Gastroenterology office , as I have numerous times before. I could not access it. I saw they had recently made some changes, with Greenway as the new access point. I learned on the way that I would need to enter a new password. I did so.  After that, I encountered one of those hellish circular procedures which keeps returning you where you started out. It required you to request a new ID CODE which they emailed to you. Saying I complied countless times is hardly an exaggeration. I gave up. I waited a day and  called the office. A live person answered; she knew of no problems with the Portal, but said she'd refer me to the IT person who would call me. No  one called, but I received an email, actually 2 of them , with different ID Codes. Neither worked. I felt stupid, and gave up again. Today I received the email below. But I don't feel like following the directions.

And so this is Christmas...

 Except for the Christmas Tree which has wended its way here and back for the last five years, all the decorations displayed are gathered from the upper level of the manse. There are several cartons  which remain in the basement., holding years and  years of family decorations wrapped so tightly in memories that it is better they stay locked away.