cnu-At my fortieth birthday party, my sister swung a baseball bat into…

not, pneumonia became a risk. If she coughed, she cried. If she laughed, she gasped and looked betrayed by her own body.

Physical therapy began with movements so small they felt insulting.

Lift your arm.

Hold.

Breathe.

Again.

Emma hated it.

“I used to run bases,” she snapped one afternoon after a session. Sweat dotted her forehead. Her face was pale with continue reading …