Tuesday, May 15, 2007
Lynda – with a Y. She's only known one Lynda. But an interesting enough name that she chose it for the main character in a novel. Lynda. Slightly affected, a bit pretentious, but it fit. That novel sitting in the drawer, a newer manuscript on top of it. She'd been thinking of her mother when she started and finished it, five years ago. And now she's met another Lynda. The doctor who told her about the brain lesions. Who said these lesions can't cause headaches. Who worked with brain cancer patients. Who prescribed a steroid. Who sat with her earnestly, trying to keep her calm. Who also lives in an apartment on the 17th floor, but with windows too small to climb out of. Who returned the call to her cell phone within the hour. Who, she learns now, is a nurse-practitioner.