One Thousand Flaming Swords — Claire Richmond

I was already emotional before I checked in at the nurse’s station. More than a week into a severe acute porphyria attack, I needed urgent hospital intervention. My body was weak and my mind was disoriented. Luckily, the…

I tugged at my biking shorts and unlatched my helmet. My person and I locked up our bicycles outside a trailside brewery and went inside for a drink. Thanks to RAGBRAI, a hugely popular bicycle ride across the…

At some point, it happens to anyone who opens up about a disability or ailment: Someone will spout a wonder cure. Ableist microaggressions are pervasive in a society of quick fixes and pain phobia. I see it everywhere: Minimize…

I met my new primary care physician (PCP) on a frigid winter morning. I sat in the waiting room clutching my partner’s hand, a file folder spread open on my lap like a security blanket. My history of…

I refreshed the Lyft app on my phone as the speakers behind me blared music from the beloved animated classics of my childhood. I eased my body onto a relatively dry strip of concrete and continued my day of…

I bore down on the pedals as the pavement rose to meet me. Ahead, the tree-lined trail continued at a slow incline, swelling gradually as I glided uphill. With the push of a button, my pedaling took me farther.

I stacked a cling-wrapped tray of broccoli trees on top of half a dozen brats, then shoved them to the side of the middle shelf, revealing two blocks of tofu, a slightly wilting head of cabbage, and a storage…

Waiting in the center aisle of the plane wearing a brown backpack and a blue surgical mask, I felt the eyes of strangers on me. It was February 2020, and my family was boarding an early morning flight to…

Kicking off my shoes, I turned my chin up to the top of the hill, where the grassy crest met the garden and the sky beyond. I looked to my right, where one of my dearest friends Jennifer had…

Deep in the dark recesses of my bottom filing cabinet drawer is a collection of hard-bound, brightly colored planners from years past. Each agenda represents a year in my life — 365 days of to-do lists, Little League games,…

At 16, I drove my 1992 Honda Accord to my biannual rheumatology appointment. In the lobby, I waited among older patients, who were accompanied by their middle-aged spouses or adult children. Flipping through a three-month-old issue of Reader’s Digest,…

My mind adjusted as my eyes took in my bedroom, with the shades drawn and the morning light pushing through. After a week in the hospital, I’d grown accustomed to the tubing snaking out of my chest, the guardrails…