Our bodies are filled with so much intimacy. I was in the doctor's office, looking at x-rays of my hips that his research assistant had pulled up on the ancient medical computer from the dawn of computers. I sat on the cushioned swivel stool in the empty exam room waiting for the doctor, which feels exactly how I imagine dying and waiting for judgment feels like. In the emptiness of the exam room, I stared at the phosphorescent pictures on the screen. I could make out the shadowy outlines of my flesh—the outlines of muscle, fat, and ghostly outline of skin—hovering above the glowing spine. I looked at the skeleton on the x-ray screen, seeing a gap where there ought to be a womb. I looked at the empty cavern that's actually filled with organs but seems vast and barren on the screen. I examined the bony suture where the hip bones almost meet but don't. One day, I hope, that suture will expand to ten centimeters in diameter and let out a human head.
On Being Gently Held: I
On Being Gently Held: I
On Being Gently Held: I
Our bodies are filled with so much intimacy. I was in the doctor's office, looking at x-rays of my hips that his research assistant had pulled up on the ancient medical computer from the dawn of computers. I sat on the cushioned swivel stool in the empty exam room waiting for the doctor, which feels exactly how I imagine dying and waiting for judgment feels like. In the emptiness of the exam room, I stared at the phosphorescent pictures on the screen. I could make out the shadowy outlines of my flesh—the outlines of muscle, fat, and ghostly outline of skin—hovering above the glowing spine. I looked at the skeleton on the x-ray screen, seeing a gap where there ought to be a womb. I looked at the empty cavern that's actually filled with organs but seems vast and barren on the screen. I examined the bony suture where the hip bones almost meet but don't. One day, I hope, that suture will expand to ten centimeters in diameter and let out a human head.