“By the start of my freshman year of high school our family had grown used to how thin she was, how little she could eat with her reduced stomach, and how determined she was not only to keep on living but to participate in the world. On good days, she’d have one of us fill up R2O2 from the main oxygen tank and carry it out to the van for her and then she’d drive into Thorndale by herself to go shopping. Mom was five-nine. As her weight dipped below one hundred pounds, then below ninety, her ...face hollowed out and her bones rose up from beneath her skin. When you hugged her you had to be careful (she cracked ribs frequently, sometimes just from coughing hard). When I hugged her, I’d feel the knobby ridge of her spine with my fingers. It reminded me of the outline of a mountain chain, or the armored plating of a small, vegetarian dinosaur. Women joked with my mother about how they wished they could transfer some of their fat onto her and men treated her with exaggerated courtesy, holding doors and carrying anything that needed carrying.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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