Girl, Falling
This made sense to me. Body + stressor = reaction.
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Posts Tagged: doctors
Something Constructive Out of Chaos: Talking with Suzanne Koven
Suzanne Koven discusses her new memoir, LETTER TO A YOUNG FEMALE PHYSICIAN.
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Rumpus Exclusive: “Mnemonics”
I’m not sure why it didn’t occur to us then that we could all become excellent doctors.
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When the Healing Place Exploded
Clothes, plants, and broken aluminum doors on balconies—all was inside out.
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The Rumpus Mini-Interview Project #224: Marcia Trahan
“Memoir is about recreating the complexities of a life.”
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The Bent Hourglass: Living in Crip Time
This is how to be sick, or hurt: give up on fast time.
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CAN-CER-VIVE
I’ve only had breast cancer once and already I know too much.
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Metaphors for My Forgetful Heart
My body is a drum, its last vibration fading out. My body is a temple, serene and contemplative, all voices finally stilled. My body is a glider plane, floating on warm currents of air in the eerie, engineless quiet.
...moreThe Rumpus Interview with Melissa Yancy
Melissa Yancy discusses her debut story collection Dog Years, using her day job for inspiration, and being “an old curmudgeon at heart.”
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Womanly Arts
This is the hearth. This is the knot. This is home. The woman bent over a sewing machine, the steady hum of the motor, the needle rising and sinking.
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The Saturday Rumpus Essay: Night
With these young women, I no longer slip in and out of places undetected. With them, my cloak of invisibility—my only known superpower—has been removed.
...moreWhat Condition Is Your Condition In?
What are the possible causes of my symptoms or condition. What tests do you recommend for the heartache of loving both those boys later on–in different years, for different years– for thinking you’d loved with a love that was more than any love anybody had ever loved, for knowing now, thirty-five years later, maybe you […]
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A Case, Diagnosis, and Its Findings
There was nothing open about my heart; my chest tightened, threatening to implode.
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The Saturday Rumpus Essay: Infarct, I Did
This essay is not about love. Love doesn’t enter into it. We are talking mechanics. Four chambers, ventricles and atria. The mammalian heart, and thus, the bat heart, and thus, the human heart.
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The Rumpus Interview with Mark Leyner
Mark Leyner discusses his new novel, Gone with the Mind, about a failed novelist, Mark Leyner, who gives a reading to his mom in an almost-deserted food court.
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Are We All Our Own Vanishing
We will never be an exclamation point, an ellipses, a question mark. We must all leave with this: a period—solid, and utterly irrefutable.
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Mole Biopsies and Other Love Notes
If this were a comic book, Bad Mole would be skulking in a dark alley, wearing an ill-fitting trench coat.
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Wild Things
Statistics make us feel safe, but most of the time, they can’t predict what’s really going to happen in our life. We believe in them anyway, though.
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The Saturday Rumpus Essay: Thunder, Thighs
Over one third of the women in my survey had been called “Thunder Thighs” at some point in their life. Many were still haunted by this. None of them interpreted “thunder” to mean “power.
...moreWord of the Day: Mundificative
(n.); a cleansing medicine or preparation; (adj.) able to cleanse, especially a wound “Art begins in a wound, an imperfection—a wound inherent in the nature of life itself—and is an attempt either to live with the wound or to heal it.” –John Gardner, Grendel The idea of creative expression as a healing experience has been […]
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Off Record
Think of this as an origin story without an origin. This is as close as you can get.
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Five Reasons to Kiss My Gynecologist
My gynecologist makes me feel like the complex whole I am. He makes me feel both normal and unique, recognizes that my body and my emotions are inextricably connected.
...moreOne More Thing That Literature Is Good For
A few weeks ago, I went to a dermatologist to have something on my nose removed. He said less than two sentences to me, asked me one question he didn’t listen to the answer to, ignored my protests, had a nurse hold me down, stuck a large needle in my nose with no warning, and […]
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