I was not suspended in a timeless brine like my pickles. I was not a stoic javelin of cellulose waiting to strike a bored palette. My answers would not be in rigidity, in control.
I couldn’t fight off the sense that there is a certain absurdity to getting tested for a disease for which there is currently no cure.
I want medicine to meet me where I am, not where it wants me to be.
On some level I know the system is designed to break me down, but I feel guilty because I am good at letting it.
“Howl’s Moving Castle” and “The Legend of Korra” are about protagonists living with magic and fighting for the fate of the world. To me, they’re also metaphors for dynamic disability.
With every step, I realized I didn’t have to be juggling All The Things to be a worthwhile member of society. I just needed to exist.
In the emergency room waiting for a potential diagnosis, I soothe myself with loops of pudgy toddlers tripping into the antics of babyhood over and over again.
Many times I could have said the same as Gawain, terrified in the face what was to come, “I’m not ready. I’m not ready yet.”
Nora Feely on unrealistic storylines and tropes of characters with cancer, what it means to "survive," gratitude and toxic positivity, and more.
I believed I had been nurtured, like a lamb, for one purpose: Mine was to be thin.
And does asking these questions make me a good mother?