Tuesday, May 7, 2024

 

Tuesday, May 7, 2024

   In the morning outside on the deck I hear the sounds of cars, construction equipment, and the calls of the seagulls.  Later in the day several military jets roar close over the house. In the afternoon, I sit in my blue recliner eating the last of the see’s candy, my sister’s gift.

     I never received the Sunday edition of the New York Times. Seldom do papers not show up. But you know it is OK.  I read an article in the New Yorker to compensate. Monday’s paper arrives on time.

     Still reading THE UNSEEN BODY and am amazed with Dr. Reisman’s take on the human body, my body. This collection of essays continues to be surprising.

     My evening mini vacation is to the fictional hospital of THE RESIDENT and the world of Bety Suarez in UGLY BETTY. All this traveling and I don’t even have to pack a bag or leave my recliner. I am calm before the mini procedure on Thursday to learn if the chemo treatment has eliminated the cancer in my bladder.

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