Not long after I started my transition, I was starting to feel pretty sorry for myself, so a friend suggested I volunteer to get my mind of my own problems, so I went to a local hospital, and soon enough found myself working in the cancer ward, doing little things for the patients that the staff simply didnt have the time to do.
I had told them about my transition, and to my surprise, they were cool with it, and even assigned me to the women’s side of the ward, which led me to have a real “ah-hah!” moment.
I met women who had lost one or both breasts to cancer, women who had to have their reproductive systems removed, and a great number of women who had lost their hair, and used wigs instead. Some of them had struggled with their identity post-cancer, but they were women, no matter what they had lost.
And that meant that I was one too, even if I needed a wig, like some of them, or inserts in my bra, like some of them, and even if I would never have a period or have a baby, like some of them.
I was a woman, because of what was in my heart, and my mind, and although I would work as hard as I could to make my body come as close as it could, in the real sense, that was window dressing.
We are women, these patients and I.
And you just wait to hear us roar ....
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