
The remedies we need to try.
I was in the midst of another cancer scare. Imaging tests were ordered, and then blood tests. No cancer – Yay! – but the blood tests revealed that I needed to increase the dosage of a medication for an unrelated chronic illness. Wednesday, March 23, 2022, was gray and drizzly. I don’t like to leave the apartment anywhere near sunset, but this medicine was important. I said the prayer I always say before opening my door. “God be with me as I walk. Saint Joseph protect my home. Saint Christopher protect my steps.” I set out for the CVS, three miles and two towns distant. Thanks to Google maps, I know I walk up 430 feet to arrive at the CVS in Wayne. There are pharmacies five minutes’ walk from my apartment, and, like my apartment, these nearby pharmacies are more or less at sea level. I walk so far and so high because I live in Paterson, NJ. It’s not just that a good part of the population speaks Spanish, Arabic, Bengali, or what is now called African American Vernacular English, and used to be called Ebonics. It’s not just because I am white and my first language is English, so I am a target for hostility and petty sabotage. I don’t want my prescriptions to meet the same fate as my vandalized, spat upon, and disappearing postal mail. I walk two towns away because even simple things that should work easily often don’t work in Paterson at all. More on that, later.