November 2025
by Chyenne Mallinson, LEEAD & ETB: Regional Project Manager

When I was preparing to sit down and write my reflections for our “From the Desk of” series, I set about tidying my desk for the photo that would inevitably grace the tiny cover art of the social media and newsletter posts that would introduce my entry, determined to tend to details truly no one would be looking at. I originally meant to take the pill bottles off the desk for the purpose of the photo, to show a healthy, neat version of myself. But I realized this is part of who I am and how I show up to work — I have good days, I have bad days, I have days when I need to lay down in the middle of a call, days when my body is too exhausted from trying to repair itself to get out of bed in the morning.

I stare at these orange containers daily, as they’ve become just as routine as hopping on Zoom, asking colleagues how their weekends were, and attending to emails. Each medication has its purpose:

• Spironolactone 50mg — polycystic ovarian syndrome androgenic symptoms
• Vitamin D3 50,000IU — extreme deficiency, symptom of polycystic ovarian syndrome
• Metformin 500mg — insulin resistance
• Topiramate 100mg — chronic migraines
• Ibuprofen 800mg — migraine pain “rescue”

Each pill treats a symptom — none of them cure the underlying conditions. This is what living with chronic illness teaches you; you learn to manage what you can, treat what flares up, and survive day by day within a healthcare system that seems designed to keep you in this perpetual cycle. We have diagnoses, we have names for what’s wrong, but the system isn’t built to heal the root illness — it’s built to keep some of us functional enough to continue to spend money on treatments, and it’s designed to leave others to succumb to their ailments.

The same can be said of this equity work we are all engaging in. We know the diagnosis; we can name systemic racism, economic oppression, ableism, transphobia, and all the structures that create and maintain inequity. We have the language, the research, the evidence, and yet, we find ourselves perpetually treating symptoms — a policy tweak here, a training program there, emergency funds when crisis hits — while the root causes remain protected by systems actively working against transformation. But sometimes, treating symptoms is all we can do. When you’re exhausted, when the pain is overwhelming, when you’re just trying to make it through the day, you take the medication. You do what you need to survive. In our current sociopolitical climate, many of us are in survival mode, addressing what we can in the moment because there is no alternative. Survival is its own form of resistance.

I look at the bottles, nestled comfortably next to thriving succulents, and I just have to laugh at the juxtaposition of symbols of illness next to symbols of life and growth. What do these plants have that we don’t? When a plant’s leaves turn yellow or brown, we check the soil, we examine the roots. We adjust water, light, and nutrients, addressing the conditions that allow the plant to thrive. What if we had systems that worked like this? Systems that, when there are symptoms of distress, afforded us the power and the tools to tackle the foundational conditions down to the roots?

I get it — tomorrow the pills will still be on my desk, counting themselves down until the next refill. So too will the structures of inequity, standing strong to greet a new day, but so will we. Because even amidst these battles, I see hope. I see hope in the people like our ETB community members doing the difficult work of systems change to reach toward a world that tends to the roots, not just the leaves. There is strength in community, in grassroots movements that refuse to accept symptom management as the endpoint. There is indelible power in daring to survive and in having the audacity to insist on thriving.

To my chronically ill comrades and my equity champions, my prescription for you in this fight is as follows ($0 copay):

• 500mg of rest without guilt
• 80mg of “no” being a full sentence
• 250mg of laughter with friends
• 100mg of unfiltered honesty
• 50mg of whatever gets you through the day…no judgement