Overnight Mom’s short-term memory no longer tethers one moment to the next, so I’m at the hospital to stay overnight with her following breast cancer surgery. Though she still has moorings in the distant past, recent events float quickly to a further shore, so my job is to keep retying her to a drifting present. […]Read more "Overnight"
There’s nothing quite so awful as spending a week thinking you might have cancer—and knowing that even if you don’t, one day you probably will. The chances of cancer being a genetic risk in my family is pretty high. Even though my mom’s breast cancer was BRCA1 and BRCA2 negative, the fact she and her […]Read more "Your breasts: Now in 3D"
Looking back you remember thinking, this is how your end could start. You’re in the shower, washing the remnants of a solid workout down the drain. As you reach for the soap you secretly hope that afterwards you’ll look in the bathroom mirror and glimpse that abdominal definition you’ve been striving for. You rub the bar […]Read more "Talking myself through a cancer scare"
It’s raining and I’m carrying a cardboard box under my umbrella. This box banged up against my hip squared under one arm, a cube-shaped child waiting to be filled. My moving box straddles the narrow hip saddle where babies, baskets, and boys ride alongside. Women were built to carry the weight of the world. I […]Read more "Fragile – Keep Dry – This Way Up"