Dead Woman by Sarah Certa

It’s mid-October and I keep referring to myself as a dead woman. Of course I am not really dead but it’s easier to call myself dead than what I really mean. Stop playing the victim card. I keep hearing that voice. His voice. And his voice. As if I want to be known for having been abused. As if I asked for it and am now basking in this special victim status, the alleged benefits of which I am still trying to figure out.

Health Center Chronicles: Our Scattered Medical Histories

“You’ll just want to call your Mom to find out where you had that vaccine administered,” said the curt woman from the Northern Michigan University Health Center over the phone this afternoon. I will not be allowed to register for…