They Ate Me Alive, But I Was Their Lifeline

I was only nine when the weight of Mom's illness pressed down on me heavier than the extra pounds I gained as a bone marrow donor.

For a while, my family served me sympathy on a silver platter. They spooned it out like a warm meal and celebrated me as their little angel—until Ginny dined with us as the adopted girl.

She was delicate and everything I wasn't. Suddenly, I was starved of my family's affection while she was full of it.

Then came the day she forced me to eat spoiled food that almost killed me.