There are framed photographs of babies and flowers and trees, pictures I took myself and hung to make the space seem less clinical, and a bulletin board with handouts on stress reduction, wellness, and calcium. On it lies a folded white sheet and a blue cotton gown with two strings for a tie. I need to sleep but I need to tell the stories. It's rapid, and when I pinch the pale skin on her forearm, it tents, a sign of dehydration. The stories need to be told because they are from the hearts of women; the tender, angry hearts; the broken, beautiful hearts of women. Waving to the receptionists, I rush through the waiting room. I wanted the staff and the patients to be able to look out at the sky. "I'm her grandma." This is not a cordial group, and I'm wondering what kind of conversation they were having before I came in.
The cream walls are lined with my photographs: the highland forest in full autumn color, a pregnant woman stepping out of the shower, and our barn with the red roof next to our cottage in Canada. " "Excited, I guess," Heather says, not sounding like she is."Well, that's nice, then," I respond. I pull the curls back, holding them out of the way. She has short curly red hair, a beautiful girl, but she holds her head down like she doesn't know it. There's also an older woman and a young man in the room, so I start talking to them, turning first to the older lady who's sitting in the guest chair, clutch ing her large white pocketbook. They've cleaned it, but it still smells like vomit. Just rest, get some ginger ale for hydration, and come in around ten. "In her sweetly perceptive memoir, [Harman] reveals how her exam room becomes a confessional. Facing charges of infidelity and sexual harassment, Herman Cain — his wife behind him — announces in Atlanta on Dec.3, 2011, that he is suspending his campaign for the Republican presidential nomination.