A Touch of Lightby Nicola BurnellIt is several minutes before I understand what’s going on. Electronic beeps keep perfect time to the swish and sigh of the ventilator that fills and empties my lungs. I sense people around me, busy people, too busy to notice that I am trying to open my eyes so that I might see the light of the world, one more time I recall the moments before the light went out. I was lying flat on my back as my blood spewed all over the ecru tiled floor of the hospital corridor. The ceiling, lit by a row of oblong lights, whizzed over me as my gurney and I sped toward the open elevator. Aware that this could be the last journey I’ll ever make, I count the lights; one, two, three, grasping at every detail of what is left of my life. |
New Feature!Loving What IsThree women write about loving aspects of their lives with which they previously struggled.Loving What Is:
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New Feature!Cape Cod therapist Doreen Quinn has joined our team of contributing writers to answer your life questions. In her first column, Doreen responds to reader’s concerns about parenting, child support and divorce. Loving What Is: Wrinklesby Johanne KiefferAs I was flipping through the TV channels the other day, I happened upon one of those shopping networks. They were selling a miracle wrinkle cream. It wasn’t the marketing chit-chat that kept me tuned in, it was the price. My jaw dropped just looking at the numbers, 2 - 4 - 0, YES TWO HUNDRED AND FORTY DOLLARS for a couple of ounces! Women were actually calling in and buying it! |
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We would like to thank artist Jo Salata for supplying the artwork for this pageJo is a bi-costal Cape Codder, transported from California, where she taught high school English for 31 years. Although she has no formal art training, Jo taught beginning tole painting fo Brandise University Women's Extension and was a featured artist of their "Art On Wheels" program. |
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