After explaining my reasons for the visit while Dr. Tiwari frowns and nods politely, she quietly takes my blood pressure and does a cursory physical exam, but I can see wheels grinding in her head while she robotically enters the collected data into her computer. "You`ve lost a significant amount of weight, Mrs. Evered, but I suppose with your renovations that is to be expected," she notes more to herself than to me. "Auditory hallucinations wouldn`t be caused by a migraine aura. Migraine auras might cause visual disturbances that border on hallucinations, but auditory&. You say you are having these headaches almost constantly?"

　　"Ibuprofen helps a little, but only temporarily."

　　"No. It`s more likely that you are dealing with a normal headache. You said you`ve been renovating an old house. Lot`s of physical exertion, not drinking enough water, exposure to chemicals and mold&. You said you have spent a lot of time recently cleaning mold out of the house?"

　　"Yes."

　　"Hm. It`s possible that you may be experiencing psychological symptoms relating to mold toxicity."

　　"Mold toxicity?"

　　"Yes&. I don`t know that that would cause hallucinations, but I will do some research and get back to you. In the meantime, it might be worth it to call in some mold extermination experts to make sure the mold is gone for good. I`m going to have you do a urine sample so we can test you for mycotoxins."

　　"Mycotoxins? I thought we were testing for mold toxicity?"

　　"Oh, yes. Sorry. Mycotoxins are the toxins produced by mold that can accumulate in your body and&. I know mycotoxins can cause a variety of psychological symptoms."

　　"And you think that might be what`s making me hear things?"

　　"It`s& possible. Is there anything else going on that might be contributing to the problem? Unusual stress levels?"

　　"Like what?"

　　"Traumas? Maybe, trouble sleeping? You lost your husband last year. Are you still grieving? Or maybe you are grieving a different loss? Um&. Are you taking any new medications or been exposed to drugs?"

　　"Oh&. Well, yes to most of those questions actually."

　　"Tell me about that."

　　"Well, the house had a giant stash of cocaine in the walls, and smaller stashes throughout the house. The police came and collected it though."

　　"And they didn`t leave any behind," her words are measured and cautiously probing.

　　"I didn`t keep any, if that`s what you are asking, but I suppose there may be trace amounts left in the house."

　　She nods and moves on. "But you`re having trouble sleeping?"

　　"Not usually, though my sleep has been interrupted a few times."

　　"Interrupted by what?"

　　"Storms, achy muscles, unexpected visitors&."

　　"Hm. And grief?"

　　I sigh. "I do miss Fred sometimes. Less now than before. I think the grief has shifted to be less about mourning Fred and more about missing the comfortable routine of the life I had with him. I`ve thrown myself into this renovation as a way to cope with that loss, I think."

　　"What about traumas?"

　　"Nothing major. There have been&. No. Nothing worth mentioning."

　　"But there have been some unusual stressors?"

　　"It`s just been busy. Normal stresses of restoring an old house. And the cops have been called to my house a lot."

　　"That sounds exciting," Dr. Tiwari teases with mild sarcasm as a way to prompt an explanation that I choose not to give her in the momentary silence that follows this comment. "Well, Mrs. Evered, let`s start with dealing with the mold and drinking lots of water. Twelve cups a day should do it. And I want you to find a way to incorporate some self care into your routine. It doesn`t have to be elaborate, just some regular R and R. In the meantime, I`ll order that toxicity screening, and if at any point your symptoms get worse, I want you to call back in, alright?"

　　"Ok," I agree half-heartedly.

　　"It was good to see you, Mrs. Evered." Dr. Tiwari walks out to turn my care over to one of the nurses, and I am left to hope that things improve with this minimal intervention. Water, self-care, mold professionals, a mold toxin screening? What will any of those things accomplish? Maybe they will help long term, but my symptoms are current and extreme. I try not to think about that too hard. I have too many other things to worry about as it is- like the window installation that my phone just reminded me is happening this afternoon.The tale has been illicitly lifted; should you spot it on Amazon, report the violation.

　　***

　　"Hi there again, Mrs. Evered!"

　　"Hello," I say much more quietly, a hand moving to the side of my face as I am unable to completely hide the tortured grimace on my face for Barry`s booming decibel-age.

　　"Mrs. Evered, yer lookin` a bit green around the gills, if you don`t mind my sayin` so!"

　　"No, it`s fine. I`m fine. Just a headache."

　　"Oh! Well, I`m awfully sorry t` hear that, Mrs. Evered! Is now a bad time to be installin` these here windows?! We`ve got all the windows for the main floor ready t` go if yer not feelin` too poorly!"

　　"Please, come in. I could definitely use some fresh air and light."

　　"Well alrighty then! If yer sure?!"

　　"Yes. Definitely. I might just& go sit in the kitchen."

　　"Don`t let me stop ya! We`ll get these windows installed in a jiffy and be out of yer hair until next Monday with the second floor windows!"

　　"Fine," I snap a little more harshly than I mean to, retreating quickly with my fingers still rubbing my right temple. I shuffle into the kitchen, out of the space Barry and his fellow window installation guy are now occupying, to collect the gallon jug of water I`ve been working to empty since this morning. The only thing drinking this water has accomplished so far is to give me a sloshy stomach and an annoyingly frequent need to relieve myself.

　　While the windows are being installed and I`m waiting for my bladder to complain at me again, I pick up the morning newspaper and rifle through the pages. The sports and entertainment sections of the paper go straight to the recycling bin. I couldn`t care less about which football teams won their last match or which celebrity finds themselves in a scandalous situation of their own making. Instead, I pick up the news section and skim through the headlines. "Eastern European War: A Fight About Restored Soviet Union", "Republicans in Crisis Over Naming New Party Figurehead", "Roe v. Wade Reversal Tip of the Iceberg", "Democrats Condemn Systemic Racism in Political Policies", "Black Man Shot for Knocking on Wrong Door", "CPS Crackdown Breaks Up Homeschooling Family"....

　　Sigh&.

　　An irrational irritability overtakes me. I don`t really want to read about any of that- all doom and gloom and people being horrible humans. I skip to the editorials and start skimming the articles. "Refugees, Are They Legal, and Why You Should Care". That headline could go either direction on the for or against spectrum. This newspaper at least tries to offer more than one viewpoint- the main reason that I`ve remained a customer for so many years. "Leftist Lip Service is All Talk". Yes, and slamming the Democrats for talking does so much to help!

　　Sigh&.

　　"First Shipment of Thoughts and Prayers Arrive". Very tongue in cheek headline: the article seems worth a scan just for that. "... recent storms hit along the shores of the Gulf of Mexico, devastating many miles of coastal Texas and Louisiana& aftermath of COVID and the continuing threat of recession, leaving many Americans wary of donating money when their own future is uncertain or unstable& with many homes still under several feet of water. Conditions for people like Tansie and her family only worsen, and their future is bleak without direct assistance& the tired refrain of "sending thoughts and prayers" is empty unless America puts their money where their mouth is&."

　　Sigh&.

　　I move on. More doom and gloom. More pitiable creatures. More problems too big to solve. Why even try?! The world seems determined to self-destruct. People refuse to work together at best; they try to destroy each other at worst. Generosity is dead. No problem solvers. Only problem makers. The middle ground is only a battlefield for those caught in the echo chamber of their own voices to take shots at people stuck in their own echo chamber on the other side. When did disagreement become a criminal offense? When did we decide that distrust was wise? When did speaking over the top of each other become more valuable than speaking with each other?

　　Sigh&.

　　"A Moderate`s Appeal for Autonomy". This could be interesting. "Why is this a political sticking point? The only purpose a government has in regards to healthcare should be limited to making sure everyone has access to it&. Roe v. Wade and its overturn are both gross oversteps&. Fact: taking away access to birth control and safe abortions will result in unplanned pregnancies- pregnancies that become children, often to single mothers, often in conditions of poverty& argument becomes: your bedroom activities are now an issue of public health and policy. What`s next? Policing our bedchambers?... Perhaps the tides shift in the other direction. In a moment when the government can tell you what treatment options you can and can not have access to, it`s not inconceivable to imagine an era of forced sterilizations of "high risk" youths or required selective abortions to eliminate "special needs" children.... No matter your feelings on the subject, the government limiting personal choice or imposing subjective morals in any health related treatment, reproductive or otherwise, should be disturbing to us all."

　　Sigh&.

　　Once again my thoughts turn to Sarah Atwood and "Cindy". And I pity them.

　　I have no opinion on the whole pro-life or pro-choice debate. Is that strange? Uncle Jack was pro-choice& more than pro-choice. At least, I know for a fact that he never had children because all of his partners terminated their pregnancies. Pretty, young faces falling for the charms of a hustling miner. Little did they know how shallow his intentions were until it was too late to salvage themselves from the wreckage- a trail of used and broken hearts.

　　"Why would I even need to get married when I`ve got a pretty little thing like you, Lottie? You`re all the girl I`ll ever need."

　　I shudder and set the newspaper aside in favor of the glass of water still brimming and untouched since I last filled it, and I force myself to choke it down in what I have accepted is likely a vain attempt to banish the sounds& the voices& his voice. A voice long gone but somehow still haunting me.

　　Uncle Jack had a dark side- a sickness well hidden beneath easy smiles and a positive public image. The alcohol made the darkness readily apparent after the mine collapsed, but I already knew it was there. I had known for a long time before the rest of the world could see it too&.

　　"Someone`s in the kitchen with Dina,

　　Someone`s in the kitchen I know,

　　Someone`s in the kitchen with Dina,

　　Cause I can`t hear the ol` banjo&."