Last October I found myself in a situation familiar to a lot of people: at home and on a Zoom meeting for work when I heard an insistent knocking at my door. At first I mistook it for my rowdy cat, since in my nearly year-long quarantine practically no one has knocked on my door. I muted my call and ran to answer, laptop in hand. I opened the door and immediately the person on the other side shoved a pen into my hand. I had a package and I needed to sign for it.
I looked at the bare envelope, with no return address and illegible scrawl on the sticker. I noticed the tiny red text that read, “Personal supply of Rx medicines.” At once I knew what this package was. Inside were medications, prescribed in Austria, filled in India.
I finally received my abortion medication.
