BLM, COVID and NED

The last time I marched was in 2017, right after the election. The Women’s March was empowering and left me with a lot of energy and hope.

But unfortunately, Ovarian Cancer sapped away my physical energy, and I was with my friends in spirit when they marched for Climate Change and a few other issues.

The past two weeks brought more protesting, more marches, and once again, I was a spectator. While I have been NED (no evidence of disease) for two years — wow!— the PARP inhibitor I am taking keeps my energy and white count low. So coupled with the risk of getting the Corona Virus, I stayed home while some of my friends hit the street.

This past Saturday, I was on my way to Johns Hopkins to pick up the drug that is keeping me NED, when we were stopped by a large group marching down Greenmount Avenue. It was a diverse crowd of young. And old, black and white, carrying signs and chanting. And I was grateful to see most were wearing masks. I was happy for our timing. We got to sit for about 15 minutes and watch these people demonstrating for Black lives. It is so tragic that George Floyd was murdered, but in his death I sincerely believe change will happen. No, not as much or as quickly as we would like. But we will see change.

The country is opening up, but I think that is more out of impatience than the disappearance of COVID-19. I hope the people who marched remain healthy. I hope people who return to their jobs as servers at restaurants remain healthy. I, for one, am not ready to join them.

I try to take a walk every day to get out of the house, and we pick up carry out from restaurants once or twice a week. But I am not ready to march or sit down at a restaurant for a meal.

Last evening, we took a walk around Fells Point while waiting for our order at the Black Olive to be ready. We walked past several restaurants with outdoor seating. One, in particular, had lovely breezes from the harbor and the tables were spaced far enough to maybe, just maybe feel safe. Our anniversary is the end of the month and I am thinking long and hard if I will be ready to go to that restaurant with the lovely breeze and strategically placed tables.

More than once I have realized it is a luxury to have these thoughts. Some people have had to return to work or, if still laid off can’t contemplate eating at a restaurant until they have an income. And then of course, there is George Floyd’s family, who have known unimaginable grief and don’t have the time or energy to think about COVID, or restaurants, or much of anything else.

As we ate our dinner last night, I said to Jerry, we really do live a charmed life. Yes, it sucks that I got cancer and I am always looking over my shoulder to see if it is creeping up on me again. But we live in a beautiful home in a wonderful city, we have as much or more than we could ever want, and we will be here to see change come to our city and country. There will be bumps and hurdles and setbacks on the way, but I am convinced we will get to see at least some of it.