Chapter 5: Thirty Out of Thirty

Evan texted me a photograph of the letter before I reached the end of his street.

I pulled over beside a mailbox and read it with the engine running.

It was on the letterhead of a neurology clinic out on Route 4.

It was dated March 14, and it said that Helen Wendt, age 56, showed early signs of cognitive decline and had declined further testing.

It recommended that family members consider "supervised living arrangements" and "management of assets."

At the bottom was a doctor's signature I did not recognize.

I read it three times.

March 14 was a Thursday.

I knew exactly where I had been that Thursday, because it was the day Mark's blood pressure scared him.

He had asked me to drive him to a clinic out of town, and I had sat in the waiting room for an hour with a magazine.

A young woman had come out with a clipboard and asked if I'd like to fill out a "wellness quiz" while I waited.

I had drawn a clock.

I had repeated back three words, apple, table and penny, and she had smiled at me.

I had signed a form on the last page without reading it, since I had thought it was for the magazine.

My hands had started to shake, so I put them on the wheel.