I’ll be participating with my boyfriend in the Women’s March on Philadelphia. It may only be for an hour since that’s the farthest my spoonie self can walk since the diagnosis. But I’m thankful to be able to do that. Since anemia messes with my temperature and immunity, I am prepared to keep super warm and cover my face the entire time. As I discern my limits and attempt to push past them, I can’t help but recognize the irony in what I’m marching for personally— women’s health.
The first message I received this morning was from a man expressing concern for his safety at the march. Since the thought hadn’t even crossed my mind, I told him not to worry too much. Simply being a woman is risky business. With access to an informed medical community, we make critical decisions over and over again that can either help or hurt us. And if women are hurting, you better believe families, communities, and constituents will feel it too. I’m doing this for me and I’m doing this for you.
As I march, I’ll contemplate the circumstances that got me here as well as the excellent healthcare I’ve received through the years. I’m just not willing to give that up.