Multimorbid
by Rebecca Wood
The book's cover is a photograph of an embroidered wreath of flowers surrounding the title. The piece is held in a wooden hoop set on a background of aida cloth embroidered directly with text reading 'by Rebecca Wood'. This cover image is set in a frame and overlayed over two framed wreath sections breaking hte corners.
The following poem is framed and accompanied by a cross stitched rectangle that reads MULTIMORBID
There is Grief in Fatigue
slow-moving body through honey
anchored
pulled
towards bed
caffeine comfort
ritual only
liquid warmth wrapping
these tired bones
softness in slowness
and sadness and solitude
letting go of tasks I
imagined for today
writing and cleaning and connecting
taming thoughts I have tamed before
the fear of forever
or worse days to come
I grieve the loss of today
I bring into focus the joy in the rest
soul swelling knowing
my comfort capacity
self-satisfaction
spilling over warmth
of blankets
of meals from my freezer
that I prepared
in a moment of energy ease
strategizing security
for these days
when this body of mine
is pulled
anchored
sticky
fatigued
The following prose selection is framed and accompanied by a cross stitched rectangle that reads by Rebecca Wood
The resident presses my belly through the blue hospital gown. I feel his cold fingertips through the fabric, watch his expression and wonder if he is judging the depth of pressure needed to move through my flesh. I have been in this position before with other residents; naked under open-backed gown, being touched and waiting to see what they feel. My isolation means I haven’t been touched this intimately in over a year. I examine his furrowed brow trying to interpret forehead crease text, writing the pathway of his thoughts as he touches me and visualizes textbook diagrams of organs. Did he learn this diagnostic touch on the first day of class, partnered up with another student? Did they practice feeling their way through each other's fat and fascia, teaching each finger to discern organ arrangements? Am I the fattest person he has had to feel and does that make it more difficult for him to confidently find the contours of my contents? It delights me that this tactile testing, dreamed up by a history of humans trying to understand our insides, hasn’t been entirely replaced by scans and scopes. This diagnostic feeling, a resident probing my belly, is always the beginning of my triennial colonoscopy. We will look inside, but first, touch me.
- “Somewhat obese but otherwise well”
The following text appears on a background of aida cloth scattered with embroidery floss bobbins wrapped in the the colours of the front cover piece
"Rich in metaphor, with a beautiful
sense of rhythm, Multimorbid promises
to be a relatable read for some and
illuminating for others. A deeply moving
poetic expression of embodied experience."
Audrey T. Carroll, author of The Gaia Hypothesis
and In My Next Queer Life, I Want to Be
“I am trying to cultivate desire for my own body. I’m curious if it might be a lifeline to feeling well.” In this multi form, mixed genre collection, Rebecca Wood wrestles the body—both fact and idea—in an attempt to fold illness and expectation into one sense of self. Honest at times to the point of discomfort, Wood takes us into the headspace and heartspace of the chronically ill. What does it take to seek care in a pathologised body. What does it take to receive it when you’ve been stripped of your worth. Steeped in the medical, the merciful,
the harsh light of grief, Woods words offer grace for the knowing and truth for the rest.”
Multimorbid’s oftentimes darkly comic take on disability leaves everyone complicit and a little bit scarred. Welcome to @bextatic.bsky.social's multiaffected, multifaceted, multimorbid life.
Release Date: May 28, 2026
preorders are OPEN
kithbooks.com/shop/p/multimorbid