GENERAL INFO AND WAYS TO HELP
So. As of January 31st, 2024, I have breast cancer.
I’m not going to die so please don’t freak out, okay?
It’s early (stage one, FAQ’s on the whole situation above in the March 25th blog post), and I’ve got great care and great support. You’re here, right?
It’s just not what I was hoping to be focusing on during my Golden Jubilee year as I dive into doing Root Quarterly full time, start research and writing on a series of essays, and begin work on finally releasing the second Sweetbriar Rose record, Black Eyed Susan (recorded pre-pandemic), but here we are.
Hopefully it won’t be so bad. Want to know what one possibility is? I’ll have surgery and radiation starting April 2024 that will suck really bad for about two months, and then they’ll put me on some awful drug that will screw with me for five years, and then it will be over. Fingers crossed.
We’ll see how it goes, and this is where you can get updates on how I’m doing and what you can do to support me, or just geek out on cancer info that maybe will be helpful to you or someone you know.
Also: I hope you’re well. No one I know is totally okay. Have you seen the world lately? This is just a little something extra I have to deal with this year. It’s always something. In general, I love my life and things are great. Please know that.
If you want to help, there are options below. Mostly, it’s just great to know that you’re all there. Really.
The Brouhaha Blog is below after Ways You Can Help. Let the dark humor begin.
Ways You Can Help
LOVE NOTES
Feel free to send me a message via text or email. I can’t promise I’ll respond because I don’t know how I’ll be feeling or how much energy I’ll have, but know that I’ll be reading it and it will make me smile to hear from you. You can also comment on the blog posts, of course. Cards or letters can go to Heather Blakeslee, Annoyed Cancer Patient, 208 Carpenter Street, REAR, Philadelphia, PA 19147.
MEALS AND GROCERIES
If you’re local to Philly, I’m not going to say no to the occasional food love if that’s your thing since it’s usually my thing. I’m hoping I can generally cook because it’s something I love to do, but I’m going to need to rest so your contributions are welcome. We’re sorting out a plan on that soon. Hold tight and don’t get your apron in a twist in the meantime.
VISITS & HUGS
I’ll let you know when I’m ready to see people, and I probably won’t want to hug you because I’ll have just had breast surgery or will be going through radiation. I’ll probably hide for a few weeks, but then I’m going to just try to be as normal as possible (my family is now laughing hysterically at me trying to be “as normal possible.” Whatever, guys.)
FINANCIAL SUPPORT
If you’re someone with a little extra to spare, or your pockets happen to be deeper than most, it would be great to have your support this year. I’m starting to get really stressed about money because the co-pays are adding up.
I run my own business and pay my own health insurance so slowing down is going to impact me financially in every conceivable way, at a time when I was about to throw my all into growing the Root Quarterly community that I’ve been building with our team the last seven years; the spring issue marks our 5th Year Anniversary! (Hopefully we’ll see you at the Old Swedes Memorial Dei Picnic, which is where we're celebrating. Save the date for that Sunday.)
If you don’t know about it yet, RQ is a beautiful, internationally-award winning quarterly print magazine. It’s like a New Yorker for Philadelphia, but better because it’s not The New Yorker and definitely isn’t only for people from Philadelphia. We hold celebratory and discussion-based events, facilitate artistic collaboration, and celebrate our city and region while participating in the national ideas space. We’re pioneering what we call Regenerative Media.
// WAYS TO SUPPORT ME //
COLD HARD AMERICAN CASH DIRECT FROM YOU TO ME.
Venmo (@Heather-Blakeslee-1) or PayPal. I ain’t proud. I’ve worked for nonprofit organizations my whole life tying to make the world a better place, which is basically like taking a vow of poverty, but karma may come back to me here.
CHOICES THAT ARE A BIT MORE COMMUNITY-ORIENTED
Get that subscription to Root Quarterly you’ve been meaning to get anyway for goodness sake! Subscriptions = Heather Happy Dancing. It’s beautiful and that’s where my real writing and heart is. It really lifts my spirits when I see a subscription ring through in my email, because it means one more person has joined our community of curiosity, conversation, and hope.
Give a friend a gift subscription to RQ. Feed two birds with one seed, as the Philadelphia Quakers say. Kill two birds with one seed, as everyone else in Philly says. (Snowballs at Santa and whatnot.) I’m sure you know a friend who loves to read or is deeply thoughtful, and it helps me, too.
If you have a project or program or business, take out an advertisement in Root Quarterly. That would be a huge help, and it might even help you!
Support me and the project with a Patreon-like monthly contribution that helps keep us going. Even $5 a month is appreciated.
Give a tax-deductible gift in any amount to the Root Quarterly Fund for Regenerative Media. We are pioneering a new kind of media that elevates and celebrates. Your gift is an investment in democracy; the primacy of art, philosophy, and spirituality to human flourishing; and in deep engagement with the people around us, even when we have big differences and disagreements. E Pluribus Unam! Root Quarterly is a program of CultureTrust Greater Philadelphia, a Pennsylvania charitable trust.
KEEP UP WITH ME ON THE BROUHAHA BLOG AND SAY HELLO IN THE COMMENTS
Writers gonna write. You know how it is. The first one of you who says “cancer journey” in the comments will get your ass beat, okay? Thanks. It’s not so much to ask.
Everything for me right now comes down to a tiny little blue dot between my breasts that could be mistaken for a freckle were it not dark blue, new to my skin, and a mark I didn’t give consent to have during a time when I have very little control over my body.
As I’ve said to a few of you the last month, having cancer is like starring in a horror sci-fi film you didn’t agree to star in, but if you don’t play the part, you die. As in the black and white Westerns of old, if someone shoots at your feet, you dance.