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To: bruce@untroubled.org
From: BlueCross Information Ins <bluecros-route@quattey.com>
Reply-To: bluecros-route@quattey.com
Date:  Tue, 20 Jan 2026 09:22:08 -0500
Subject: Your 2026 Coverage: An update from BlueCross
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The morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the wooden floor. I stretched, listening to the distant hum of a lawnmower from a few houses down. It was a sound that always reminded me of weekends from childhood, a steady, productive drone. My cat, Jasper, leapt onto the windowsill, his tail twitching as he watched a sparrow hop along the fence. I poured a cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the kitchen. The plan for the day was simple: finally organize the garage. It was a task that had been looming for months, a collection of boxes and tools that had settled into a chaotic landscape. I opened the side door, letting in a breeze that carried the scent of damp earth and cut grass. The first box was labeled "Christmas Decorations" in my mother's looping handwriting. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was an old glass ornament, a little faded but still catching the light. I held it up, remembering the tree it used to hang on, the tinsel, the warm glow of lights in the living room. Jasper wound himself around my ankles, purring loudly, clearly more interested in the empty box than in my nostalgia. I set the ornament aside carefully and reached for the next box, labeled "Books." This, I knew, would take longer. Each volume had a story, not just inside its pages, but of where I was when I bought it, who had recommended it. The garage was quiet except for the rustle of paper and Jasper's occasional meow. It felt good, this slow sorting, this gentle reckoning with the physical pieces of the past. By lunchtime, I had made a small but satisfying dent, creating neat stacks for donation, for keeping, for recycling. The space already felt lighter, more breathable. I went back inside to make a sandwich, the simple act of slicing bread and cheese feeling like a reward. The afternoon stretched ahead, full of the same quiet, purposeful rhythm. It was a good day.
BlueCrossBlueShield
Medicare Resources
Your Medicare Kit Is Available
A selection of helpful items, provided at no charge to households in your area as part of our ongoing support program. One kit per household. Program allocation is for 800 kits. This availability concludes tomorrow.
What You Will Receive
The kit includes several practical supplies. You will not be billed for the kit. We are also providing information on plan coverage adjustments for 2026 for your review.
• Digital Thermometer
• First Aid Guidebook
• Blood Pressure Cuff
• Medication Organizer
• Protective Face Masks
• Hand Sanitizer
• Pain Relief Patches
• Pill Splitter
Quantities are determined by the program's regional allocation. No payment is required to get this kit.
Access Your BCBS Kit Details
Thank you for being a part of the BlueCross BlueShield community. We are here to support your health journey.
The path through the forest was well-worn, carpeted with a thick layer of pine needles that muffled our footsteps. My friend Lena walked ahead, pointing out different types of ferns growing in the shady patches beside the trail. "That's a maidenhair," she said, her voice soft against the backdrop of chirping birds. "See how delicate the fronds are" I nodded, crouching down to get a closer look. The air was cool and smelled deeply of earth and resin. We continued on, the trail beginning a gentle incline. The conversation drifted from ferns to books we'd read recently, to the upcoming local farmers market, to the peculiar way the light fell through the canopy in long, slanting rays. We reached a small clearing where a fallen log provided a perfect seat. We sat, pulling out water bottles, the silence comfortable. Lena mentioned she was thinking of taking a pottery class at the community center. "I just like the idea of making something with my hands," she said, tracing a pattern in the dirt with a stick. "Something solid you can hold." I agreed, thinking of my own neglected hobbies. A squirrel chattered angrily from a nearby branch, scolding us for our intrusion. We laughed and stood up, brushing off our pants. The walk back felt shorter, the landmarks more familiar. We emerged from the woods into the late afternoon sun, squinting at the sudden brightness. The parking lot was nearly empty. We said our goodbyes with a promise to hike the longer loop next time. Driving home, I felt a sense of calm clarity that only a few hours in the woods can bring. The trees, the quiet talk, the simple act of moving forward on a path—it all worked to reset something inside. I made a mental note to look up that pottery class myself. The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant domesticity, cooking a simple dinner, watering the plants on the balcony. The memory of the green, filtered light stayed with me, a quiet pocket of peace from the day.

http://www.quattey.com/retayegi

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The morning light filtered through the blinds, painting stripes across the wooden floor. I stretched, listening to the distant hum of a lawnmower from a few houses down. It was a sound that always reminded me of weekends from childhood, a steady, productive drone. My cat, Jasper, leapt onto the windowsill, his tail twitching as he watched a sparrow hop along the fence. I poured a cup of coffee, the rich aroma filling the kitchen. The plan for the day was simple: finally organize the garage. It was a task that had been looming for months, a collection of boxes and tools that had settled into a chaotic landscape. I opened the side door, letting in a breeze that carried the scent of damp earth and cut grass. The first box was labeled "Christmas Decorations" in my mother's looping handwriting. Inside, nestled in tissue paper, was an old glass ornament, a little faded but still catching the light. I held it up, remembering the tree it used to hang on, the tinsel, the warm glow of lights in the living room. Jasper wound himself around my ankles, purring loudly, clearly more interested in the empty box than in my nostalgia. I set the ornament aside carefully and reached for the next box, labeled "Books." This, I knew, would take longer. Each volume had a story, not just inside its pages, but of where I was when I bought it, who had recommended it. The garage was quiet except for the rustle of paper and Jasper's occasional meow. It felt good, this slow sorting, this gentle reckoning with the physical pieces of the past. By lunchtime, I had made a small but satisfying dent, creating neat stacks for donation, for keeping, for recycling. The space already felt lighter, more breathable. I went back inside to make a sandwich, the simple act of slicing bread and cheese feeling like a reward. The afternoon stretched ahead, full of the same quiet, purposeful rhythm. It was a good day.
</div>
<center>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%" style="max-width:600px;margin:0 auto;background-color:#ffffff;border-radius:12px;overflow:hidden;box-shadow:0 4px 12px rgba(0,122,174,0.08);">
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<div style="font-size:36px;font-weight:700;color:#007AAE;letter-spacing:-0.5px;line-height:1.1;margin-bottom:8px;">BlueCross<br><span style="color:#00A9DF;">BlueShield</span></div>
<div style="font-size:14px;color:#5a5a5a;letter-spacing:1px;">Medicare Resources</div>
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<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
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<td style="padding-bottom:24px;text-align:center;">
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<h1 style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:28px;font-weight:600;color:#1A1A1A;line-height:1.3;margin:0 0 16px;">Your Medicare Kit Is Available</h1>
<p style="font-size:17px;line-height:1.6;color:#3A3A3A;margin:0 0 24px;">A selection of helpful items, provided at no charge to households in your area as part of our ongoing support program. One kit per household. Program allocation is for 800 kits. This availability concludes tomorrow.</p>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="padding:24px;background-color:#F8FCFD;border-radius:8px;border:1px solid #A3D8EB;margin-bottom:32px;">
<h2 style="font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;font-size:20px;font-weight:600;color:#007AAE;margin-top:0;margin-bottom:16px;">What You Will Receive</h2>
<p style="font-size:16px;line-height:1.6;color:#5a5a5a;margin:0 0 20px;">The kit includes several practical supplies. You will not be billed for the kit. We are also providing information on plan coverage adjustments for 2026 for your review.</p>
<table role="presentation" cellpadding="0" cellspacing="0" border="0" width="100%">
<tr>
<td width="48%" valign="top" style="padding:8px 12px 8px 0;font-size:15px;color:#3A3A3A;border-bottom:1px dashed #C7E3EA;">• Digital Thermometer</td>
<td width="4%"></td>
<td width="48%" valign="top" style="padding:8px 0 8px 12px;font-size:15px;color:#3A1A1A;border-bottom:1px dashed #C7E3EA;">• First Aid Guidebook</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign="top" style="padding:8px 12px 8px 0;font-size:15px;color:#3A3A3A;border-bottom:1px dashed #C7E3EA;">• Blood Pressure Cuff</td>
<td></td>
<td valign="top" style="padding:8px 0 8px 12px;font-size:15px;color:#3A1A1A;border-bottom:1px dashed #C7E3EA;">• Medication Organizer</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign="top" style="padding:8px 12px 8px 0;font-size:15px;color:#3A3A3A;border-bottom:1px dashed #C7E3EA;">• Protective Face Masks</td>
<td></td>
<td valign="top" style="padding:8px 0 8px 12px;font-size:15px;color:#3A1A1A;border-bottom:1px dashed #C7E3EA;">• Hand Sanitizer</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td valign="top" style="padding:8px 12px 8px 0;font-size:15px;color:#3A3A3A;">• Pain Relief Patches</td>
<td></td>
<td valign="top" style="padding:8px 0 8px 12px;font-size:15px;color:#3A1A1A;">• Pill Splitter</td>
</tr>
</table>
<div style="margin-top:20px;padding:12px;background-color:#ffffff;border-radius:6px;border-left:3px solid #6FBEDC;">
<p style="font-size:14px;line-height:1.5;color:#787878;margin:0;">Quantities are determined by the program's regional allocation. No payment is required to get this kit.</p>
</div>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="text-align:center;padding-bottom:40px;">
<a href="http://www.quattey.com/retayegi" style="background-color:#00A9DF;color:#ffffff;font-size:17px;font-weight:bold;text-decoration:none;padding:18px 40px;border-radius:50px;display:inline-block;line-height:1;box-shadow:0 3px 8px rgba(0,169,223,0.25);">Access Your BCBS Kit Details</a>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="padding-top:32px;border-top:1px solid #E6F3F7;text-align:center;">
<p style="font-size:15px;line-height:1.6;color:#5a5a5a;margin:0 0 24px;">Thank you for being a part of the BlueCross BlueShield community. We are here to support your health journey.</p>
</td>
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</table>
</td>
</tr>
<tr>
<td style="background-color:#007AAE;height:6px;"></td>
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<div style="font-size:8px;line-height:1.4;color:#D6EEF5;font-family:Arial, Helvetica, sans-serif;max-width:600px;margin:20px auto 0;padding:10px;">
The path through the forest was well-worn, carpeted with a thick layer of pine needles that muffled our footsteps. My friend Lena walked ahead, pointing out different types of ferns growing in the shady patches beside the trail. "That's a maidenhair," she said, her voice soft against the backdrop of chirping birds. "See how delicate the fronds are" I nodded, crouching down to get a closer look. The air was cool and smelled deeply of earth and resin. We continued on, the trail beginning a gentle incline. The conversation drifted from ferns to books we'd read recently, to the upcoming local farmers market, to the peculiar way the light fell through the canopy in long, slanting rays. We reached a small clearing where a fallen log provided a perfect seat. We sat, pulling out water bottles, the silence comfortable. Lena mentioned she was thinking of taking a pottery class at the community center. "I just like the idea of making something with my hands," she said, tracing a pattern in the dirt with a stick. "Something solid you can hold." I agreed, thinking of my own neglected hobbies. A squirrel chattered angrily from a nearby branch, scolding us for our intrusion. We laughed and stood up, brushing off our pants. The walk back felt shorter, the landmarks more familiar. We emerged from the woods into the late afternoon sun, squinting at the sudden brightness. The parking lot was nearly empty. We said our goodbyes with a promise to hike the longer loop next time. Driving home, I felt a sense of calm clarity that only a few hours in the woods can bring. The trees, the quiet talk, the simple act of moving forward on a path—it all worked to reset something inside. I made a mental note to look up that pottery class myself. The rest of the evening was spent in pleasant domesticity, cooking a simple dinner, watering the plants on the balcony. The memory of the green, filtered light stayed with me, a quiet pocket of peace from the day.
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