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Emma Won't Get Better

Emma Won't Get Better fiction mma won't get better. For several days my wife, Lana, and I said these words to each other with one part normal parental concern and one part head-shaking admiration. As if it were just another instance of her willfulness. Our little head-waggling, snaggle-toothed, toddling one-year-old was refusing to get all the way better out of sheer orneriness. Over the next several months, after seventy-three needles, fourteen catheters and a number of scans and x-rays, all of which required holding her down, these four words became the doctors' consensus and the central fact of our lives: Emma won't get better. The pain might subside for a while, the fever would come and go. But Emma won't get better. Individual alphabet blocks photographed by Wee Sen Goh Daniel Stolar It started as a fever. A little fireball radiating heat in the sagging California King that had come with our apartment, where Emma slept nestled under Lana's arm, curled above Lana's bent legs, so intertwined with Lana that they seemed like a single organism. And in fact I liked to joke that they were "a single contiguous system" because of Emma's incessant night nursing. When Lana dutifully poured her bedtime http://www.deepdyve.com/assets/images/DeepDyve-Logo-lg.png The Missouri Review University of Missouri

Emma Won't Get Better

The Missouri Review , Volume 33 (4) – Jan 21, 2010

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Publisher
University of Missouri
Copyright
Copyright © University of Missouri
ISSN
1548-9930
Publisher site
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Abstract

fiction mma won't get better. For several days my wife, Lana, and I said these words to each other with one part normal parental concern and one part head-shaking admiration. As if it were just another instance of her willfulness. Our little head-waggling, snaggle-toothed, toddling one-year-old was refusing to get all the way better out of sheer orneriness. Over the next several months, after seventy-three needles, fourteen catheters and a number of scans and x-rays, all of which required holding her down, these four words became the doctors' consensus and the central fact of our lives: Emma won't get better. The pain might subside for a while, the fever would come and go. But Emma won't get better. Individual alphabet blocks photographed by Wee Sen Goh Daniel Stolar It started as a fever. A little fireball radiating heat in the sagging California King that had come with our apartment, where Emma slept nestled under Lana's arm, curled above Lana's bent legs, so intertwined with Lana that they seemed like a single organism. And in fact I liked to joke that they were "a single contiguous system" because of Emma's incessant night nursing. When Lana dutifully poured her bedtime

Journal

The Missouri ReviewUniversity of Missouri

Published: Jan 21, 2010

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