The thing about being poor is that the less you have, the more help there seems to be. We’re on the cusp…
Laying in a nursing home bed, losing control over everything, I just want to hurry up and be out of love…
I want to stop having MS so I can just be afraid of the virus like everyone else…
It’s weird not to see the nurse’s face. I wonder if she remembers the unmasked faces of the regulars she treats.
I worry this is part of my decline. A crooked smile. Nothing to smile about…
Acceptance was just not a place I’ve ever wanted to go. It sounded like defeat.
There is no help. There is no kindness. This is a state-run psychiatric hospital.
Andrea Gregory holds an MFA from the University of Massachusetts Boston. Her fiction has appeared in The Sun and Consequence Magazine, with a story forthcoming in North Dakota Quarterly. She is a former journalist and world traveler, having spent time reporting from the Balkans after the wars. Her work from the Balkans has appeared in Transitions Online (TOL), Balkan Insight, The Christian Science Monitor, and other places. She holds a BS in journalism from Emerson College. Her journalism career ended when she came down with multiple sclerosis, but life has a way of calling writers back to their roots.