Recently it seems like a lot of people, myself included, have said things like "well, she's been fighting cancer for ten years--that's a long time." Meaning that someone who is dying now, officially, can be looked to as a valiant survivor for having lived with this disease for a whopping ten years.
And then the other day I realized: I have cancer. I have been fighting this disease for three years already, and looking forward to many more. But ten years--just seven more--is not enough. I can't lay down to die when I am 34! That is far too young. I have friends older than that. And I have far too much to do. I want to have babies, of course, even if my womb is now in permanent hibernation; but I don't just want to have them, I want to see them grow old and have their own babies. I want to be a grandma. And I have things to do at work--not just beating Host in Vancouver, but taking over the labor movement. We have a lot of work to do if the good guys are going to win and we're going to have a real movement of working class people. And that is going to take more than seven years.
So I have a new plan. No more of this idea of living with treatment for the rest of my life. We are going to blow this thing out of my body once and for all. That's why I have been miserable for the last few weeks. That's why my life was risked by multiple infections when I didn't have any white blood cells (first line of defense from infection). That's why I have more new scars than I can count and more on the way. That's why I will do whatever it takes to win.
Because ten years is not nearly enough. And I don't want to spend the rest of my life fighting. I want to win decisively. And I will. Or I'll just keep fighting. But either way: I Will Win.