The End of the World As We Know It

I have quite clearly been at a loss for words these past few weeks. Well, I've had words, but most of them aren't fit to print. "WTF?!" doesn't exactly make for constructive dialogue.

As I transition out of my role of full-time cancer patient and into whatever comes next: survivor, I suppose, though that is still such a strange word for me; advocate, about which I hope to write more soon; and adjunct law professor teaching international law twice a week (yes, really), I'm still trying to find my footing in a post-MBC world, and now, also, in a post-factual one, too.

And while this is a breast cancer blog that's sometimes about parenting or research or even finances or sexuality or grief, I cannot ignore my past as a lawyer/lobbyist and the dire threat to healthcare -- and our constitution itself -- that now exists. So this may also become a blog about policy and politics, too, to some extent. Just a fair warning for my readers because I'm sure that not all of you share my voting record or worldview. I hope you'll stick around regardless. At the end of the day, we're all in this together. I welcome debate here (or in person!); just please keep it civil.

For those of us who are friends on Facebook or other social media, you might have seen my statement shortly after the election that Trump's win felt oddly similar to being diagnosed with cancer. The cold fear was familiar to me, as was the sense that I had just lost control and my innocence in one fell swoop.


Here's the deal: I am not a "snowflake," as some people are characterizing those of us expressing our sadness at what our country is facing: the potential loss of the rule of law and human rights, or respect for free speech and science. Our grief is warranted. I am no withering petal.

No one gets through nearly 5 years of cancer treatment without some deep resolve and fortitude.

My opposition to the new administration is not a partisan matter. I am a patriot. I studied history and the law, marveling at our founding fathers and the lasting power of our Constitution. I grew up in a military household where the Fourth of July was almost as important as Christmas. I can't really carry a tune (ask Chris), but I hummed along to Lee Greenwood's anthem with tears of pride in my eyes every summer.

This American "experiment" we've been involved in for the past 240 years? I want to see it endure. I believe in it, flaws and all.

One of my students asked me the other day whether I thought the new administration's actions were hurting our standing in the world, and if so, what we could do to correct this course. My answer was strangely similar to what I'd tell a newly diagnosed cancer patient, and at least one (conservative) author seems to agree with me.

I told her we need to continue to speak up for our beliefs and interests. I would tell a cancer patient she has to be her own best advocate. The protests and boycotts and what one friend tells me are hundreds of thousands of calls per hour to congressional phone lines are making a difference. We are being heard. It is an uphill climb, but I'd argue our lives and liberty are worth it.

Elliot Cohen writes:

[A]ll can dedicate themselves to restoring the qualities upon which this republic, like all republics depends: on reverence for the truth; on a sober patriotism grounded in duty, moderation, respect for law, commitment to tradition, knowledge of our history, and open-mindedness.

On the other end of the spectrum, all of this advocacy, just like being a patient, can be exhausting. It is SO important to engage in self-care. Get enough sleep, even if it means resorting to a tablet of Benadryl (note, I am NOT a doctor, and this is not meant to be medical advice). Exercise regularly. My guess is boxing classes will be filling up quickly as more and more of us feel the need to punch something. Eat plenty of vegetables, even when you feel nauseated. It is important to refuel yourself to get back into the arena, for this will be a long, drawn-out match.

We don't want to burn ourselves out. We have so much work to do. We have been knocked down (and I don't mean liberals, I mean our very democracy). We must stand up again and again and again, like the old Japanese proverb says. Ask any cancer patient.

Get Out And Vote

I wasn't sure I was going to write about this election on my breast cancer blog. I mean, what does politics have to do with cancer or healthcare? Quite a bit, actually.

My dear friend Beth is currently in a fight for her life because her insurance company, a federally-run group, has denied the combination therapy that her DOCTOR recommends she have to treat her metastatic breast cancer. You see, the drugs are not FDA-approved for use in this way, even though trials have shown 93% efficacy in the treated population. Beth has taken her fight to social media, and as a community, we are stepping up in the hopes that +Blue Cross and Blue Shield Service Benefit Plan will hear our voices and #SaveBeth.

It's gross, really, that an insurance company can say no to life-saving drugs.

Here's how it's supposed to work: 1) Patient pays for insurance 2) Patient gets sick 3) Insurance pays for treatment. THAT'S WHY WE HAVE INSURANCE. It's why we PAY for it.

Insurance denials by federal insurers are a policy issue. FDA approvals are a policy issue. Cancer research and how much money gets funneled into research on metastases (not nearly enough, only about 7%) is a policy issue. Policy gets set, for the most part, in Washington, DC. And for cancer patients and survivors, those issues are vitally important.

It is literally about life and death.

I cried tears of relief last year when the Supreme Court ruled in favor of the Affordable Care Act's protections on coverage for those with a pre-existing condition. I didn't know then what I know now about my health: namely, that I was likely never metastatic. But I still will always have had cancer. It is part of my story now, and prior to this monumental ruling, insurance carriers could flat out refuse to cover me.

I have my insurance through Chris. It has been wonderful insurance, covering most of our costs over the past five-and-a-half years, which have included a c-section, a bilateral mastectomy, nearly EIGHTY infusions of chemo or targeted chemotherapy, several biopsies, five weeks of radiation, more scans than I can count, and reconstruction. I have no idea how much all of that has cost, but my guess is Chris and I couldn't afford it out-of-pocket. 

The thing is, our insurance is tied to his job. I think his job is secure, but surprises happen in life. [UNDERSTATEMENT OF FOREVER] If something happened to Chris, would I be eligible for insurance coverage? The Supreme Court says yes. But Republicans have vowed to overturn the law that protects this coverage. I'm not okay with that uncertainty.

Republicans have also promised to defund Planned Parenthood, which provides free cancer screenings for underserved populations. DEFUNDING THAT CARE IS NOT OKAY. Women of color are already at such a disadvantage when it comes to healthcare. Struggling populations don't need one more hurdle standing in the way of their survival.

A republican congress has also drastically cut spending on science over the last decade, and would likely continue to do so. Science is how we get research. It's how we move toward therapies that keep patients like my friend Beth alive long-term. So she can watch her young kids grow up. So she can continue to advocate for other patients living with this dreadful disease. So we can end cancer as we know it.

But this election isn't just about me. It isn't just about cancer. And it isn't just about democrats versus republicans and who promises what.

It's also about the most qualified candidate in my lifetime to run for office, going up against an unprepared clown who seems to think our constitution is a joke and derides nearly every group of people imaginable: women, disabled people, Hispanics, Muslims, Jews, blacks, even those in his own political party. I honestly don't understand the appeal.



This election is about the tone we will set for our country for at least the next four years, but possibly a generation or more. Our kids are paying attention. Quinn tells me I should be president, but short of that, he doesn't understand why a mean person, a bully, would even have a chance. Quinn is in kindergarten and understands that's not how we get ahead in this country. Those are not the morals we defend. We are better than that.

As one of my favorite bloggers put it:

I'm begging you:  please go vote, and please vote with best intention.  I suspect that I don't have to convince you that this man is a demagogue -- I can't imagine you'd be visiting Chookooloonks if you agreed with his stance.  However, if you're eligible to vote in the United States, I beg of you to do so.  Vote early, if you can; if you can't, then on Tuesday, November 8th, please find your way to the polls, despite the weather, despite the lines, despite how busy you might be.  And as you vote, please be mindful:  please don't throw away your vote, and please don't vote for this person simply because you're loyal to his party.   He's a dangerous, unkind, mean man, and he doesn't deserve your vote just because he conveniently chose a major political party to hang his platform on.

There are so many important issues facing our country. Healthcare, the future of our treatment of cancer, and the first amendment are just a few important ones to me. I'll probably lose a few readers because of this post, but it's important. I can't keep silent on it, not this year, not this election. 

Please remember to vote tomorrow. Our lives depend on it.