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The Missouri Review

Nonfiction | September 28, 2020

In Noise, Feeling

J. D. Ho

I sat in a chair, the legs of my jeans pulled up to my knees, as a neurologist poked my leg with a pin.
“Can you feel that?” he asked each time.
“Yes,” I said.He sat back down in his chair. “Did your socks or clothing labels bother you when you were a child?”
“Yes!” I said, feeling like he was psychic.
“You have what we call sensory modulation disorder,” he told me.

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