Death doesn’t take a holiday
I live down the street from a fire station — at any time of the day or night sirens ring out and jack up my blood pressure. This used cause me great anxiety. I would wait to see if the fire engine or ambulance was going to pull up outside of my house. If I was coming home and the sirens were wailing, I would increase my pace down the street until I came to my corner, fully expecting to see my apartment ablaze, thronged with flashing lights and unfurling hoses.
My oldest neighbors were a couple in their late 80s. She was one of Patti’s favorites and was now had advanced Alzheimer’s. I came home to find her being taken away by this ambulance while her husband stood bewildered on the sidewalk. I felt that they were mirroring my own situation. Fortunately it was a minor incident and she came home in a few days. But then, a couple of weeks later, Arthur had a stroke and died on the living room floor. Two deaths in our building in as many months.
Fortunately, my siren anxiety has faded and gone. I no longer fear the worst, having been through it.