I could only acknowledge my thyroid condition from sly, sideways angles—a hobbit stealing from a sleeping dragon’s hoard.
And does asking these questions make me a good mother?
We’ve spent quarantine in faulty mirrors, sparking negative feedback loops.
My former therapist, a well-meaning white woman, once asked me, “Do you think he treated you badly because you are Asian?”
Science provides me with a vocabulary of illness, confirming what my body already knows: that it will never be the same
During those first weeks, I was in a never-ending, often failing battle with Penny, then an eight-pound roly-poly of a beagle
Maybe these home remedies aren’t just tricks or distractions. Maybe they are insistences on our well-being.