I started working on an essay for my book charting my childhood relationship with illness and malady. Sometime after Will was born I became paranoid that I was going to die in my sleep. In elementary school I pretended I was sick all the time and would force myself to fall asleep in the nurses office. Getting sick seemed so romantic and dangerous and exciting. Getting better seemed sort of baptismal.
My friend Carmen Winant took some pictures of some mysterious bruises on my neck. Check out her photography at dailyafterthought.blogspot.com.