You scarcely need me to fill in you in on what a bad week it's been. Me, I'm dealing with a sore throat and a few other flulike symptoms, but all of that amounts to the headache accompanying news that you have a terminal illness.
I don't have any advice right now that you probably haven't heard a bunch of times already. Vote; get others to vote; put your money and time into causes that are boots-on-the-ground effective instead of pie-in-the-sky longshots. Take care of yourselves. Do not feel guilty for spending a moment hugging someone and taking the evening off to decompress. We didn't get into this mess all at once and we're not going to get out of it all at once, either. The world is a long game in all its respects.
I have plans. I make them, I also laugh at them. It's absurd to make plans right now, isn't it? Why ever make plans, when even the next five minutes are not guaranteed? But I make them anyway. Not because I'm deluded, but because I have my dignity, my pride, my stubborn sense of wanting something good out of life regardless. I know full well these plans may come to nothing. That's why I make them. A life spent merely waiting for whatever we feel to be inevitable is not life but the beginning of death.