“She Just Doesn’t Want to Work,” My Mother Told Her Nursing Staff About My Condition. I Silently Slid My Medical File Across the Table to Her Chief of Medicine. Her Next Shift Was Her Last.

was to tell myself she was not talking about me. Linda Matthews had a large repertoire of daughters in her professional anecdotes, daughters of colleagues and friends and peripheral acquaintances who existed in her stories mainly as illustrations for whatever point she was making. But then she said my name.

“Emma is twenty-eight years old,” my mother continue reading …