Bowel Obstrction #11

Preface: I was going into the post office in north Brattleboro when I heard a robin screaming from a hedge of evergreens nearby. Then I heard the "clack" of grackles and knew they were trying to get to Mother Robin's eggs or chicks. I approached the hedge, and two black raiders with big tails flew out, clacking as they went. I watched them land in a nearby tree, and when they saw me still observing them, they flew across Putney Road. Unfortunately, they'd be back. Mother Robin needed one of Arnold's guns.
Tuesday, May 3, '16: I'm operating without my journal, but Ms. Peterson of Brattleboro Internal Medicine also tried to float this rationalization for not indentifying the authorship of her letter. She said I could look at the long, narrow rectangle at the bottom of the letter, which contained a list of clinicians, and conclude that one of them sent me my "fired as a patient" letter. Back home, another senior citizen and I put our silver heads together and pored over the rectangle of names. We were unable to find Peterson's name so since she told me the name of the letter-writer was in the rectangle, and she had written the letter, and her name was not in the rectangle, she was telling me a falsehood.
    Without my notes, the second and last thing that was wrong with her letter was that her final sentence said there was a disclosure form included so my medical information could be forwarded to my new health practitioner. There was no such letter.
    Thus ends, I guess, my critique of supposed Alene Peterson's letter to me. It was an unidentified, incomplete letter. If I had written such a letter, I wouldn't have wanted to identify myself as the author either. It was shabby and hostile and not at all professional.
    Peter Nickerson, Philosophy Major, Class of '68, William and Mary