Hi there, I’m sorry to meet you under these circumstances. My name is Gina and I’ve been fighting CML for over 3 years now. The beginning of this journey was not so bad, I was able to work and undergo chemo and had okay insurance. After the second round it became apparent that I could no longer hold a job or complete simple tasks. Since then it has been complication after complication — an enlarged spleen, a diagnosis of lupus, a medication interaction induced heart attack, psychosis that caused a suicide attempt, and currently, an infection in the fluid around my heart caused by chemo toxicity. I am simply so tired. I often feel cancer is like living in the Windows ‘95 maze screensaver. I consider myself lucky that I live in a state with a robust Medicaid program. I have insurance. The problem arises every time I attempt to use it, however, as they routinely deny my claims, ignore my phone calls, send me threatening letters, and just yesterday, called to tell me I should have told the ambulance, called to my house when I fell, hit my head, and passed out, that I was refusing their care, even though I was unconscious. It is so hard to want to live when the system in place to help you do so tells you constantly that you are a burden and it’s your own fault for being sick. Heck, I’ve already done a GFM! Last time we raised $6,885 and it paid off my first round of chemo and allowed me to buy toilet paper and gauze and a full year of my supplements. I am trying to get better about accepting help, about recognizing the shame and guilt and not allowing it to consume me. I cannot tell others that we must build community and take care of each other and then not allow that to apply to myself. I need help. I need my people. There is one single gift this cancer has given me and it’s the will to live. I’ve known I was queer for years, but it is only this past pride that I allowed myself to tell the people who matter that I am trans. I am not lucky enough to be out, and I won’t be able to do so for as long as my parents are here. I was their primary caretaker before my diagnosis as they are both physically disabled, and now I live with them because I simply cannot survive alone. I do not exaggerate when I say they would turn me out, and that is not an option if I want to build a future after this is over. But make no mistake: I am so proud to be trans. I am so proud to be at a place where I can say the word and have it fill me with hope instead of fear. I no longer fear being trans because I have met death and if being trans is a death sentence, I will happily serve it. I want to beat this cancer so that my life can truly begin. On this Trans Day of Visibility I want to be seen. I know some folks like to know exactly where their money is going so I’m also including a link to my Amazon wishlist in case you would like to contribute in that fashion. If you would like to contribute in another way, I encourage you to find your closest blood donation center and make an appointment to donate.Thank you for reading this far, from the bottom of my poorly functioning heart, thank you.Gina