On June 21 of this year, I found out that I had a mass on my uterus. A short (but mentally very very long) four days later, Roe V. Wade was overturned. Today I go into surgery to get that bad boy taken out of me.

This journey has been a very weird one, filled with MRI’s that doubled as DIY noise shows, peeing approximately three million times a day, and having very frank conversations with my parents about what’s going on with my junk. And while women’s rights were being stripped away, I was growing what turned out to be a grapefruit-sized fibroid in my womb. And I’m not going to lie, I’ve been really fucking pissed off. REALLY fucking pissed off.

A fibroid isn’t the end of the world, it’s non-cancerous and thank god for that… However, when I asked multiple doctors what causes them, the replies were “Well we don’t really know”. Why is this the case, you ask? Because limited research has been done on the uterus!!! DUH! When I told the original doctor who discovered the mass I wanted to remove it surgically, she told me I shouldn’t worry about it because I “wasn’t sure if I wanted kids”. Even though, no joke, I pee FIFTY times a day. Most of my day is scheduled around peeing. Like sorry, can’t hang out later I’m going to have to pee twelve times in an hour. Eventually, when I found a doctor willing to cut me open, he made me choose while wearing a purple smock with my feet in stirrups, whether or not I wanted children.

Look, I’m 31, I know I should have a firmer plan or idea on if I want kids or my life in general or whatever the fuck by now, but I’m also a recovering alcoholic and an artist and a narcissist and just kind of figured I’d have more time to decide on all of this or maybe be able to decide when I was fully clothed. But no, I had to decide if I wanted kids while perched in a pleather chair wearing a purple smock with my feet in stirrups. So guess what I chose? I chose to not let that asshole doctor cut into me and that I’d try to find someone else. Finally, two months later, I found a doctor who could perform a removal surgery that wouldn’t affect my fertility no matter what I decide. (trying to bite my tongue and restrain myself from going on an insurance tirade but I was billed $1,500 for my MRI because my first doc didn’t deem it “medically necessary”)

I wrote this song the week of my diagnosis and I played it at my NY show and screamed at everyone. It’s raw and angry and loud and noisy. And it’s not just for me, but for all people whose lives and reproductive rights are in peril now. The song is called Pussy is a Gun. Only available on Bandcamp. All proceeds go to Fund Texas Choice. Oh and the album art is from my MRI.

Thanks to all of my amazing friends and family who have helped me through one of the weirdest events of my life. You are all my mass-holes. I love you -Meredith aka Warm Human