"If you’re reading this, this fu$king brain cancer probably got me.
But let me be crystal clear while I’m able: I did not ”lose a battle” against cancer. This is a ridiculous, steamy pile of horse shit that society has dumped on cancer patients.
Western medicine, and Western culture, especially, is so uncomfortable talking about death that instead it created this “battle” analogy that basically shames people who die from cancer.
News flash: None of us gets out alive from this rodeo called life.
There is no shame in dying from cancer – or any serious illness. And it doesn’t need to be a battle. It’s a transition that each of us will go through. I was asked by a shaman, whom I spoke to after my 2nd brain surgery, “Are you running towards life or running away from death?”
Whoa! That got my attention.
There’s a BIG difference. I got it wrong more often than not.
Don’t let fear fuel your choices. Live fearlessly. Run TOWARDS life. Don’t worry about what people will think. Trust me, it doesn’t matter.
Focus on you. Be true to yourself.
Be your own best friend. People who tell you you’re selfish are not your people. If the voice in your head says these unkind things, get a new voice. Honor your mental health and seek out a good therapist with the same vigor you’d search for a romantic partner.
Speaking of, be intentional about cultivating friendships that lift you up. As those friendships grow and change, don’t overlook them while you search for that “great love of your life.” (No, I’m not suggesting you sleep with your bestie. But you do you!)
Another unhelpful message that we get from society is that we need a “love of our life,” as a romantic partner.
Single and childless when I was diagnosed with terminal brain cancer, I looked around my life and came up sputtering and sobbing from the wave of grief washed over me.
I thought I’d be doing this alone…no husband, no kids, no “great love.”
How wrong I was. At the first appt with my neuro oncologists, one of the nurses diligently hauled in chair after chair for the great loves of my life who came with me that horrible day & many days after that
I sat and listened while the doctor explained the 12-month treatment plan, focusing on my breathing, then looked around the room…filled with great loves of my life: incredible women friends whom I had met at various stages of my life.
Surround yourself with people who contradict that unkind voice, people who see your light, and remind you who you are: an amazing soul.
Learn how to receive these reflections from your people. Because they are speaking the Truth.
Love yourself, no matter how weird and silly it might feel. Every morning, give yourself a hug before your feet hit the floor. Look deeply into your eyes in a mirror. Say to yourself, out loud, “I trust you.” That voice in your head might say you’re a dork. Ignore it.
As I prepare to leave this body and embark on this mysterious journey of my soul, I hope these observations from my deathbed are somehow useful.
What I know, deep in my bones, is that learning to love myself has led me to be able to say this: I’m so proud of how I lived.
May you, dear reader, feel the same when you head out on your soul journey, too. Until then, enjoy the ride. And always eat dessert first, especially if there’s pie!"
Thank you for this, Kerri Grote. You are forever a beautiful soul. Rest In Peace.
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🏳️🌈 Ruth Coker Burks 🏳️🌈
“In 1984, when Burks was 25 & a young mother living in Arkansas, she would often visit a hospital to care for a friend who had cancer. During one visit, she noticed the nurses would draw straws, afraid to go into one room, its door sealed by a big red bag.
She asked why and the nurses told her the patient had Gay-Related Immune Deficiency (GRID), later known as AIDS. On a repeat visit, and seeing the big red bag on the door, Burks decided to disregard the warnings and sneaked into the room.
In the bed was a skeletal young man, who told her he wanted to see his mother before he died. She left the room and told the nurses, who said, "Honey, his mother’s not coming. He’s been here 6 weeks. Nobody’s coming”. Burks called his mother anyway, who refused to come visit her
“To all the mamas who will hear the words ‘Down syndrome‘ for the first time this year, remember:
1. Your child will become your greatest teacher. You will watch this little person learn & master ways to adapt into fitting into a world not made for them. It will astound you.
2. The milestones. Forget about them. Your child will do all things in THEIR time. Put the books down. Stop Googling and enjoy that little baby in front of you – exactly where they are at and not where literature says they are supposed to be.
3. Your heart will break over and over again by the stereotypes held by society. It’s your job to help break down those barriers. You are now an advocate. Mama bear. Tiger Mama. You will grow to be passionate and you’ll become an expert on your child’s diagnosis.
“Don’t really get all the #BLM stuff?
400 years ago white people enslaved black people.
And sold them.
And treated them as less than human.
For 250 years.
While white men built the country and created its laws and its systems of government.
While 10, 15 generations of white families got to grow, flourish and make choices that could make their lives better.
150 years ago white people "freed" black people from slavery.
But then angry white people created laws that made it impossible for them to vote.
Or to own land.
Or to have the same rights as white people. And even erected monuments glorifying people who actively had fought to keep them enslaved.
All while another 5, 10 generations of white families got to grow and accumulate wealth and gain land and get an education.
Essay from Josh Lerner, MD after @CDCgov loosens guidelines for everyone on the front lines
“In one of the most vivid scenes in @HBO miniseries "Chernobyl" soldiers dressed in leather smocks ran out into radioactive areas to literally shovel radioactive material out of harms way
Horrifically under-protected, they suited up anyway. In another scene, soldiers fashioned genital protection from scrap metal out of desperation while being sent to other hazardous areas.
Please don't tell me that in the richest country in the world in the 21st century, I’m
supposed to work in a fictionalized Soviet-era disaster zone & fashion my own face mask out of cloth bc other Americans hoard supplies for personal use & so-called leaders sit around in meetings hearing themselves talk. I ran to a bedside the other day to intubate a crashing,