This is sort of an unexpected first entry to this blog. I'm still working on a couple other entries, and I started it to update those who have been so good to me on what's happening with me and my "situation." I don't like referring to it with the usual war terminology - fight, battle, warrior. Those evoke sentiments of violence that are far from what I care to carry around. If there is anything that fuels me it's the antithesis of all of that - happiness, peace, and love. Do not be mistaken. There is no lack of strength in that and no implication of surrender or relinquishment of hope. I'd argue it takes way more strength to maintain a presence of peace and love than one subject to anger and fear and the bitterness and hate they produce. Not that I believe a zero anger or fear policy is humanly possible, at least not for me. It's what we choose to do with it. It's little choices every day, and I try hard to make ones that allow me the best night's sleep. I'm not always successful, but that's my m.o. and that brings me to today and this post.
This morning I woke up and started watching and reading the news. I'd wanted to be in DC for the Women's March that's taking place, but I'm currently homebound because cancer took yet a few more pieces of me this week. One of the characteristics of my particular cancer (no two cancers are identical; no two breast cancers are even identical) is that it is estrogen receptor positive (ER+), meaning that estrogen feeds it. Rather than continuing to receive monthly injections to suppress my ovaries from functioning and producing estrogen, I had surgery Wednesday to remove my ovaries and fallopian tubes. Yes, this means I will never produce or carry a chiId, which is another story entirely but one with which I've had to come to terms.
In the news I read about the handful of actions of Day 1 of the new presidency - from the tone of the inaugural address, to the disappearing pages on the White House website, to the beginning of the crippling of the Affordable Care Act with no replacement to speak of, which is of particular interest to me for obvious reasons. What I read, I'm embarrassed to admit, made me sad and afraid to the point of tears. These few swift and immediate actions shook me for the dismissive ease with which they occurred and for the impacts they could have on me and people I care about. I had my moment of tears, made fun of myself for crying, and shifted my focus to the Women's March where I wished I could be. When I saw the coverage of the demonstrations taking place not just in DC but worldwide, started completely organically, I couldn't stop watching. I still haven't. The sheer numbers are astounding, and the energy they're projecting are giving me strength and hope and even enthusiasm. As a friend pointed out, it's not about what we, collectively, who support this still-evolving movement are against. It's about the things and people we are for, and it's about coming together to take productive action moving forward. These demonstrations should not be confused with the senseless actions of several dozen in DC yesterday. Today's are strong, peaceful and hopeful demonstrations driving home the notion that we must make choices and take actions every day, one at a time, if we want to live in a world we are proud of.
I'm truly sorry if you just wanted to see how I'm doing and feel I've gone too political here or that I'm exploiting my cancer to push a political agenda. My cancer is relevant. I face uncertainty and great risk depending on what happens with ACA/Obamacare, as does my beautiful 3-year-old nephew. For me what's happening today transcends politics and is about humanity. Whatever time I have left in this world, I don't want to leave it in its current state having done nothing to make it better. I'm so grateful to those women who had the guts and follow-through to initiate what's happening today and to those who have turned up in such great numbers all over the globe. Thank you for inspiring me and brightening my day with this celebration of strength, love, and unity!
Much love,
Amanda
