I never meant for this newsletter to become a catalogue of medical updates. “Rx” began as a sideways joke — a small refusal of the overculture’s prescriptions and an invitation to share what helps us, one gasping cackle at a time, move through the death surges of a system built on extraction and violation. I didn’t know then I was stepping into a long tunnel lit by IV bags and plastic bottles, a world many of you know well.
These past weeks have been a new initiation into hospital time — the long, surreal corridors where time yawns, fibrillates, collapses. I had my fifth infection since my bilateral mastectomy last June, and this one burned like wildfire. Red spreading across my chest by the minute; a black hole opening in my body; a night drive down the mountain to emergency surgery.
The expander meant to hold space for reconstruction — the choice I made to try to come out the other side of cancer with a shape that looked familiar — turned out to be the vessel harbouring infection all along. It carried a stowaway. My body was yelling at me. Six days in hospital. IV antibiotics every six hours. Two more weeks of pills. On Monday, we see if the infection is truly gone or still lingering in the tired, deflated corners above my heart.
I am living through waves of rage and grief. Why did it take so long? Why was I told, again and again, that it didn’t look like infection? Why did I have to insist so many times that something was wrong?
This is all TMI again, but we're past the point of carrying the shame of our lived experience of these collapsing failures in silence, aren't we? Too many generations of secrecy imposed upon all kinds of survivors.
As always, the personal reflects the systemic. We live in these perceptive loops, that's why we have to tell the truth, as above so below always, for each of us, that's how we bear witness. I see infection and rot surfacing everywhere — red, inflamed, consuming — in our politics, in our histories, in the institutions being stripped and hollowed for the benefit of fascists and ped*files. We all live this sickness in our bodies. We can't escape it but also, we are together.
When I got home, I needed to sob into my husband’s arms and name every moment I’d been afraid. And I needed to map the systemic failures — the overstressed, underfunded, intentionally gutted landscape of Québec health care under a premier intent on privatisation.
And I needed to tell you.
Prescription
Rest as though it were essential — because it is.
Set down what drains the life you need for healing.
Speak plainly on behalf of your body and your view.
Let grief teach you about clarity.
Gather with those who hold you.
I’m going to see my grandmother. I am recording everything. I’m investing my time where it matters: family, coven, community.
Invitations
All events are for members of the Missing Witches Coven. If you feel called to join us, you’re warmly invited to step inside.
Plantkin November: Plant Intimacy
Sunday, Nov 16 — 6:00–8:00pm EST
Hosted by: Jasmin (she/they)
This month’s Plantkin gathering centres on intimacy — how we meet plants as teachers, kin, and collaborators without slipping into projection or appropriation. Together we’ll explore ways of listening that honour lineage, respect cultural protocols, and deepen our collective skill in sensing plant responses. Bring your rituals, book recommendations, or simply your presence. We’ll reflect on three guiding questions about connection, discernment, and long-term relationship with plant allies. Whether you’re rooted in herbal practice or just beginning to listen, this circle is open, gentle, and non-performative. Cameras off or on, sharing optional. Come learn, rest, and root into community.
New Moon in Scorpio: What the Dark Is Trying To Tell Us
Thursday, Nov 20 — 8:00–9:30pm EST
Hosted by: Risa + Amy
Under the Scorpio New Moon, we gather to descend into the strange, glittering dark. Inspired by Leonora Carrington’s The Hearing Trumpet, this ritual invites us to slip into the dream-cave, listen for shadow’s teachings, and work with salt as a vessel to hold messages from the underworld. We’ll dress in the colours of night, move through a three-song descent mixed by Amy, and welcome an Oracle who will weave our collective language into a closing incantation. This is a circle for deep listening, colour magic, embodiment, and shared meaning-making as winter draws near. Come ready to move, rest, draw, and receive whatever truth the dark brings forward.
Spellbound Show & Tell — November
Friday, Nov 21 — 7:00–8:00pm EST
Hosted by: Jasmin (she/they)
A gathering of creative magic and curious minds. Spellbound Show & Tell is a monthly celebration of the projects, passions, obsessions, and experiments alive in our coven. Bring something you’re working on — art, spellcraft, research, a niche fascination, a book you love — or simply come to witness the brilliance unfolding around you. Each presenter has 5–10 minutes to share, offering a glimpse into the diverse practices and minds that make this coven what it is. No need to polish or perform; this is a warm, accessible circle for naming what you’re making, exploring what you’re learning, or showing the strange little things that light you up. The event will be recorded for the coven.
Welcome to the Coven: Gathering + Q&A
Friday, Nov 28, 12:00 – 1:00 PM EST
Hosted by: Risa
A welcoming ritual for new and returning members. This gathering offers a gentle introduction to the coven’s values, rhythms, and shared practices. We’ll begin by calling the corners and building a simple collective altar. Bring a small object to represent the self you’re bringing into this space. You’ll have the option to introduce yourself through this offering, but sharing is always optional. We’ll reflect on themes from your welcome interviews, orient you to the spaces within the coven, and open the floor for questions and intentions. Not recorded; a live moment of grounding, transition, and belonging.
Coven Reading Circle: The Future Is Disabled
Friday, Nov 28 — 8:00–10:00pm EST
Hosted by: Jasmin (she/they)
A reading-circle journey into Leah Lakshmi Piepzna-Samarasinha’s The Future Is Disabled: Prophecies, Love Notes, and Mourning Songs. We’ll gather to share passages, explore the book’s visions, and reflect on disability justice, interdependence, and the futures that emerge when we refuse abandonment. Guided questions help us consider what challenged us, what affirmed us, and how this text expands our understanding of care — within the coven and beyond it. Whether you’ve read the whole book or are encountering its ideas for the first time, you’re welcome. Not recorded; a space for gentle conversation and collective imagining.
Until next time,
May your body be met with listening.
May your healing be met with resourcing.
May what burns reveal what needs release.
Blessed Fucking Be.
