A scene from my early childhood periodically surfaces and I think about it and feel that I somehow missed doing something, but I was a tot, maybe only 3. My family’s flat in those days was on the corner of Madison Street and Ogden Avenue in Chicago. We had a view of the corner intersection from our living room window. The scene I am remembering is being in this living room at night, with my mother. The room is brightly lit. The sofa and coffee table and floor are covered with photographs and letters – hundreds of items -- the room seems strange to me.

My mother is sitting on the couch going through everything. She seems sad. I have had occasions in my life like this, where I start going through old photos and papers and when I come out of my trance, hours have passed. I sat by the window looking at the cars going by but remained keenly aware of my mother and her mood. It is also odd because my sister and dad were not there, nor did they seem to be nearby.

Okay. Tomorrow I am having a rear tooth pulled. Can’t save it, the root canal guy said. Said I should ask my regular dentist for a referral. I remember when one dentist did everything. Ed is driving me because he thinks I will be shaky afterwards. I am just having the traditional local, but maybe Ed has a point. I’ve been lucky with my teeth, so am not complaining. Probably, since it is in the rear, I will not need to put in a replacement.

Ed had to get an external defibrillator. The insurers insist on a 6-month waiting period after a procedure before they will pay for an implant. They say 50 percent of the patients get better and don't need one. He is being pretty good about it. It is klunky. If he still needs one, he’ll be eligible for the implant in November. He has been going to cardio rehab but they wouldn’t work with him today because his blood pressure was too low. He’ll eat something sweet before his next visit.
xx, Teal