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My wife has breast cancer.

I write this, with her permission, while sitting in the hospital waiting room as she undergoes surgery. Afterward, there will be another surgery, radiation, and probably chemo, but what else might be in the offing is guesswork at this point. I’ll know more this afternoon, when the operation is over.

Theresa discovered the lump four weeks ago while we were watching television. Fortunately, as a doctor with excellent health insurance, she was able to take quick action. The next day, she had a mammogram and sonogram. Soon after, a radiologist biopsied the growth; we were notified that it was malignant in a call from her doctor seconds before a flight attendant told us to shut off our phones in preparation for takeoff. We quickly met with the surgeon and scheduled today’s operation. Before Theresa left the office, she had a blood test for genetic markers. The next day, an M.R.I.

The whirlwind of activity sometimes allowed us to sidestep our feelings; at the beginning, the diagnosis seemed more like a list of things to do rather than a potentially life-threatening condition. There was, of course, denial. When we informed our sons of what was happening, Theresa wasn’t able to use the words “breast cancer.” I did, and she later told me that, when I said the term, she felt like I was talking about someone else.

Of course, there was fear: she worried about the possibility of a mastectomy, I only worried that she would die. And finally, in that very short time frame of a few weeks, we reached some level of acceptance.

But there were other feelings that struck us hard: fury, dismay, contempt. Not at our situation, but at the realization that untold thousands of women would not be as lucky as Theresa. Instead, they will die because of conservatives’ endless efforts to block poor women from having access to mammograms, breast exams and treatment. Theresa detected her cancer early enough that we feel confident she will survive. But we’re both aware that, right now, there are other women who don’t know they have this vicious invader growing inside them and will not find out until it is too late. Their husbands and loved ones will not have the chance, as I do, to sit in the waiting room of the hospital, and instead will stand at the entryway of the funeral home.

Many Republicans, either out of self-delusion or deceit, deny they are causing any such thing. But there is no question that, in their obsession with zygotes, embryos, and non-viable fetuses as part of their supposed pro-life stance, they are effectively murdering real, walking, talking women—mothers and daughters, grandmothers and sisters, all sacrificed on an altar of Pecksniffian hypocrisy and contemptible disregard by people who have the insurance, connections, and available health care to feel certain their politics won’t kill their loved ones. Perhaps Theresa and I are re-directing our anger from the cancer, but so be it; our rage has focused on the financially comfortable, morally blind, and arrogantly self-righteous who tyrannically conspire to rob poor women of years of life they might otherwise have. It is for this reason that Theresa is willing to disclose her condition, in hopes that, in doing so, we will help highlight how politicians are blithely choosing to kill women who are not as fortunate as she is.

We live in Texas, a state that often makes us proud of its communities and ashamed of its politicians, and have been dealing with our breast-cancer scare at the same time Republicans in the state House have been rushing forward with the now-infamous anti-abortion legislation (or, as I prefer to call it, the forced-birth bill). For a moment, forget the scientific nonsense and bogus assertions that have fed this debate—that rape kits used by law enforcement to collect evidence can prevent pregnancy, that fetuses feel pain at 20 weeks (contrary to scientific evidence), that proof of that pain can be seen in the “fact” that male fetuses masturbate at 20 weeks, that the American economic crisis was caused by abortions, that an abortionist distributed ineffective birth control to teenagers so he could make millions of dollars performing the procedure, and on and on.