The Why

I had cancer.

I knew there was something wrong. And went to my primary care about it. Twice. Before she took me seriously. And even then, it was still at least 3 more months before any new tests were run. And then 9 more months to see a specialist. And then one day after the specialist to see a surgeon, who took a biopsy and diagnosed me within minutes. At age 33.

I went through chemo and radiation. Which fried my ovaries so I lost the ability to have children naturally. Then more chemo where I became sensitive to cold to the point where it felt like my throat was closing if I had anything colder than room temperature for an entire summer. And then surgery for my Stage 4 cancer, where I came down with an infection. And my drainage tubes fell out when I went home because I was jostled too much, and had to wear a wound vac for 6 weeks.

So, kinda traumatizing, to say the least. But I survived. And continue to do so, now 3 years later.

But I want more purpose now. Because I did survive. And I want to believe that it was for a reason. Any reason.

So I have taken to fighting for others. For justice and equality and inclusion. And for people to be treated as human, and not looked down on for disabilities or race or age or gender or income or education.

And I just want to do more with the time I have.