Love hits you at unexpected moments--moments like this one, when I'm sitting in my room by myself, listening softly to music, winding down for bed, trying to crimp one last necklace clasp into place, not thinking of anyone or anything in particular. A few words in a song trigger the realization that I've seen the one I love for less than four hours in the last nine days, and even though life has kept me more than adequately occupied and satisfied, right now I'd give anything just to lie down next to him and drift off to sleep.
I suppose most of the time I am quite good at doing my thing--working hard, and in my too-scant free time pursuing one of many outside interests. Sometimes, though, sometimes when I least expect it, this feeling in my chest or the pit of my stomach will take over and remind me that I'm deeply connected to someone else. Despite my best effort to control it, to make light of it and not act like I take it too seriously, moments like these make me realize that this relationship means more to me than most anything else. Somewhere in the course of the last two years I did let go and let myself love without holding my breath. It's hard to fully articulate, but when these feelings hit me, I probably feel the most scared, and at the same time the most grateful to have someone like him in my life.
Sunday, August 3, 2008
Monday, March 10, 2008
Strange/r Love
It's funny how despite the passing years, the changes you go through, and the long silent periods, you still go on loving those same people who once changed your life, even though in reality now you only know them a little better than strangers.
Saturday, January 5, 2008
Wedding rings without lovers' hands are just rings.
Unpacking is a process that takes me days, weeks even. I've been back from Georgia for five days now and piles of clothing and objects I removed from my suitcases (but with which I did little else) were slowly spreading across my floor, threatening to take over. Tonight I finally put most of my clothes away and moved on to peeking into the pile of small boxes containing jewelry and other small objects I brought back with me. Poking through the contents of one, I came across something I'd stuck in my bag almost as an afterthought when going through an old jewelry box at home--my step-grandfather's wedding band.
Both my maternal and paternal grandparents divorced, and both my grandmothers remarried. Neither grandfather did, so I ended up with four grandfathers and two grandmothers. Unfortunately none of the four grandfathers lived long enough for me to know them well. The grandmothers fared better. I was quite close to my maternal grandmother, and the wedding band in question was given to me by her one day when I was at her house. I had seen it around before, I think in the kitchen after my step-grandfather died. Though the details are fuzzy, I must have asked her about it, asked her whose it was. She told me that it was Roy's and that I could have it.
The significance of the exchange escaped me until just now. I was young; I took it home and tried it on all my fingers, and of course it fit none of them. I experimented with wearing it on a chain around my neck, but I abandoned it shortly for other, more sparkly pendants. It has sat untouched in my jewelry box at my parents' house for many years. Tonight, taking it out, I again tried it on all my fingers (it still doesn't fit, of course). I turned it over and examined it closely. It's a fairly simple gold band with five tiny diamonds forming a gently curved diagonal across the widest part. It's just a man's wedding ring.
But it was my grandmother's husband's wedding ring. I have no idea why she gave it to me, and she is no longer alive for me to ask.
I don't remember her making me promise to take good care of it, to keep it safe because it was special. She simply gave it to me. She had often easily handed over other objects I'd admired, so of course being a child, I thought nothing of it. Now as an adult, it seems strange to me that she would just hand over her deceased spouse's wedding band to a child as if it were a cookie or a doll.
You often hear of elderly people holding on to their spouses' wedding rings after their deaths, keeping the bands close until the day they die. I suppose the rings serve as a comfort to these people, of a reminder of a love and a commitment they once held dear and that shaped who they are in innumerable ways. I understand this; I'd be inclined to the same sentimentality. Being sentimental, one of my first thoughts tonight was that maybe she chose to give it to me as opposed to any of her other eight grandchildren (or five children) because she thought I was special, thought I would understand more, thought I would be more responsible for it than any of the others.
Maybe, but I doubt it.
Then, being also a touch cynical, I thought that because it was her second husband's wedding ring, perhaps it didn't mean as much to her.
Knowing how much love my grandmother was capable of giving, I don't think that's the reason, either.
I think my grandmother was just different. Once she let go of the physical person and internalized the experience and memories of her husband, she was able to simply let go of the physical objects associated with him. Without him, his things meant nothing. What she carried inside of her was more representative of him than any ring or article of clothing would ever be again.
I suppose what my grandmother might have been telling me, in a way, is that the true gifts we get from people are intangible; they are moments shared with those we love, etched always in our memories--a sideways smile through barely opened eyes first thing in the morning; fits of riotous laughter shared rolling on the floor; top-volume, windows-down sing-alongs to hair metal or Broadway musicals while driving; unexpected conversations around the kitchen table that last for hours past dinner and then bedtime; just the right hug given at just the right instant. A wedding ring doesn't mean anything; the real gift is looking into someone's eyes, knowing there's complete truth in the statement "we're in this together," and finally understanding what commitment means. The moments we have with each other, the love we share, and the memories we tuck away are the only treasures we can keep with us forever; everything else is essentially disposable.
I'll never know my grandmother's real motivation behind giving that ring to me, but I do know that, all these years later, it means something to me. Perhaps what I get from it is not what the wedding ring designer intended for the band, but I think it's significant nonetheless.
Both my maternal and paternal grandparents divorced, and both my grandmothers remarried. Neither grandfather did, so I ended up with four grandfathers and two grandmothers. Unfortunately none of the four grandfathers lived long enough for me to know them well. The grandmothers fared better. I was quite close to my maternal grandmother, and the wedding band in question was given to me by her one day when I was at her house. I had seen it around before, I think in the kitchen after my step-grandfather died. Though the details are fuzzy, I must have asked her about it, asked her whose it was. She told me that it was Roy's and that I could have it.
The significance of the exchange escaped me until just now. I was young; I took it home and tried it on all my fingers, and of course it fit none of them. I experimented with wearing it on a chain around my neck, but I abandoned it shortly for other, more sparkly pendants. It has sat untouched in my jewelry box at my parents' house for many years. Tonight, taking it out, I again tried it on all my fingers (it still doesn't fit, of course). I turned it over and examined it closely. It's a fairly simple gold band with five tiny diamonds forming a gently curved diagonal across the widest part. It's just a man's wedding ring.
But it was my grandmother's husband's wedding ring. I have no idea why she gave it to me, and she is no longer alive for me to ask.
I don't remember her making me promise to take good care of it, to keep it safe because it was special. She simply gave it to me. She had often easily handed over other objects I'd admired, so of course being a child, I thought nothing of it. Now as an adult, it seems strange to me that she would just hand over her deceased spouse's wedding band to a child as if it were a cookie or a doll.
You often hear of elderly people holding on to their spouses' wedding rings after their deaths, keeping the bands close until the day they die. I suppose the rings serve as a comfort to these people, of a reminder of a love and a commitment they once held dear and that shaped who they are in innumerable ways. I understand this; I'd be inclined to the same sentimentality. Being sentimental, one of my first thoughts tonight was that maybe she chose to give it to me as opposed to any of her other eight grandchildren (or five children) because she thought I was special, thought I would understand more, thought I would be more responsible for it than any of the others.
Maybe, but I doubt it.
Then, being also a touch cynical, I thought that because it was her second husband's wedding ring, perhaps it didn't mean as much to her.
Knowing how much love my grandmother was capable of giving, I don't think that's the reason, either.
I think my grandmother was just different. Once she let go of the physical person and internalized the experience and memories of her husband, she was able to simply let go of the physical objects associated with him. Without him, his things meant nothing. What she carried inside of her was more representative of him than any ring or article of clothing would ever be again.
I suppose what my grandmother might have been telling me, in a way, is that the true gifts we get from people are intangible; they are moments shared with those we love, etched always in our memories--a sideways smile through barely opened eyes first thing in the morning; fits of riotous laughter shared rolling on the floor; top-volume, windows-down sing-alongs to hair metal or Broadway musicals while driving; unexpected conversations around the kitchen table that last for hours past dinner and then bedtime; just the right hug given at just the right instant. A wedding ring doesn't mean anything; the real gift is looking into someone's eyes, knowing there's complete truth in the statement "we're in this together," and finally understanding what commitment means. The moments we have with each other, the love we share, and the memories we tuck away are the only treasures we can keep with us forever; everything else is essentially disposable.
I'll never know my grandmother's real motivation behind giving that ring to me, but I do know that, all these years later, it means something to me. Perhaps what I get from it is not what the wedding ring designer intended for the band, but I think it's significant nonetheless.
Wednesday, December 26, 2007
(Ahem, ahem)
I have a bone to pick with Entertainment Tonight. Yes, I know. Self-respecting people don’t even admit that they watch the show, but sometimes I just want background noise, so I turn on the TV while I make dinner. Unfortunately for me, ET always seems to be on at exactly the same time.
In any case, the other night I was halfway listening to the show’s mindless celebrity blather when a clip of an “interview” with Hillary Clinton came on. I put the word interview in quotation marks because the “reporter” was not asking questions of any substance or direct relevance to her Presidential campaign, so in my opinion it doesn’t really qualify. I began to listen with just a touch more attention, because I haven’t yet decided on which Democratic candidate for Presidency I will vote in the primary, but Hillary is definitely up for personal consideration.
About three questions in, the interviewer flashed his over-bleached smile and in very serious tones asked Mrs. Clinton what I can only assume the show’s writers thought was an important question to people of the country:
“Mrs. Clinton, if you win the Presidency, do you have any plans to redecorate the White House?”
Hillary smiled back patiently and calmly said, “I think Mrs. Bush has done a wonderful job maintaining the White House and it probably does not need redecorating.”
Yeah, dumbass, because if she wins the Presidency she’s going to be too busy RUNNING THE COUNTRY to spend any time wondering whether the drapes wouldn’t look better in chartreuse.
This question and its underlying implications completely offended me as a woman and, in my opinion, should infuriate any other intelligent, career-focused woman with ambitious goals. As I interpret it, the question can imply two things: either people do not take Hillary Clinton seriously as a Presidential candidate or they expect her to fill not one, but two prominent public roles—those of both President and First Lady.
In the first instance, the redecorating question sounds patronizing; in other words, “Yes, Mrs. Clinton, sure you’re running for President. But let’s talk about the real issues you’ll be facing: does the Chinese ambassador prefer red of white wine?” Does the public really think that Bill will actually be orchestrating the Presidency from the wings? Do people really think that she is only running because Bill has already served two terms and this is a nefarious way for him to get back into office? Or are they not asking her serious questions just because she is a woman—hey, it’s “nice” that she’s running but no one really takes her seriously?
The second implication would suggest a blatant double standard. Excuse me if I’m incorrect, but aren’t activities such as White House redecorating and Christmas tree trimming typically the duties of the spouse of the President? If this assumption is true, then if Hillary becomes President, wouldn’t Bill be the person in charge of selecting new rugs and organizing Easter egg hunts? Maybe, though, I am grossly mistaken, and in reality the person who assumes responsibilities for these tasks is the woman who lives in the White House. Is the expectation of the people that Hillary will assume all the responsibilities of the Presidency while also filling her old support role? Has any male President in the past been expected to both fulfill his official duties and manage the more unofficial responsibilities of his spouse? Why, then, would Hillary be expected to do both?
Whether or not she is the best possible Presidential candidate, Hillary Clinton’s bid for the Democratic ticket is a step toward changing the perception that the U.S. Presidency is a man’s job. Women hold top offices in other countries around the world, but for some reason, the United States, which prides itself on being an advanced nation, is still stuck with the archaic notion that it ultimately takes a man to lead. I believe that this country needs more women like Hillary—intelligent, successful women who challenge the status quo.
However, shows like ET seriously undermine efforts to change gender perceptions in politics and the workplace by refusing to acknowledge the positions that characterize Hillary’s endeavor and focusing instead on what they think people want to know about her (Will she redecorate? What will she wear to the next debate?). Instead, ET reinforces the idea that a lot of people probably carry—it’s nice that she’s running and all, but really, what does she know about politics?
What’s truly unfortunate is that for some people, shows like ET serve as a primary news source. Some people don’t take these programs for what they are—televised tabloids—and are actually influenced by what is presented. Frighteningly, such influence has the potential to sway opinions at the polls and to ultimately negatively impact the welfare of the country. I don’t know about you, but I for one am appalled that “fluffy” questions about matters unrelated to politics (like decorating, or even religious affiliation) can influence a vote. I wish that so-called journalists would take the initiative to use their public influence to educate rather than to distract for the sake of “entertainment.”
In any case, the other night I was halfway listening to the show’s mindless celebrity blather when a clip of an “interview” with Hillary Clinton came on. I put the word interview in quotation marks because the “reporter” was not asking questions of any substance or direct relevance to her Presidential campaign, so in my opinion it doesn’t really qualify. I began to listen with just a touch more attention, because I haven’t yet decided on which Democratic candidate for Presidency I will vote in the primary, but Hillary is definitely up for personal consideration.
About three questions in, the interviewer flashed his over-bleached smile and in very serious tones asked Mrs. Clinton what I can only assume the show’s writers thought was an important question to people of the country:
“Mrs. Clinton, if you win the Presidency, do you have any plans to redecorate the White House?”
Hillary smiled back patiently and calmly said, “I think Mrs. Bush has done a wonderful job maintaining the White House and it probably does not need redecorating.”
Yeah, dumbass, because if she wins the Presidency she’s going to be too busy RUNNING THE COUNTRY to spend any time wondering whether the drapes wouldn’t look better in chartreuse.
This question and its underlying implications completely offended me as a woman and, in my opinion, should infuriate any other intelligent, career-focused woman with ambitious goals. As I interpret it, the question can imply two things: either people do not take Hillary Clinton seriously as a Presidential candidate or they expect her to fill not one, but two prominent public roles—those of both President and First Lady.
In the first instance, the redecorating question sounds patronizing; in other words, “Yes, Mrs. Clinton, sure you’re running for President. But let’s talk about the real issues you’ll be facing: does the Chinese ambassador prefer red of white wine?” Does the public really think that Bill will actually be orchestrating the Presidency from the wings? Do people really think that she is only running because Bill has already served two terms and this is a nefarious way for him to get back into office? Or are they not asking her serious questions just because she is a woman—hey, it’s “nice” that she’s running but no one really takes her seriously?
The second implication would suggest a blatant double standard. Excuse me if I’m incorrect, but aren’t activities such as White House redecorating and Christmas tree trimming typically the duties of the spouse of the President? If this assumption is true, then if Hillary becomes President, wouldn’t Bill be the person in charge of selecting new rugs and organizing Easter egg hunts? Maybe, though, I am grossly mistaken, and in reality the person who assumes responsibilities for these tasks is the woman who lives in the White House. Is the expectation of the people that Hillary will assume all the responsibilities of the Presidency while also filling her old support role? Has any male President in the past been expected to both fulfill his official duties and manage the more unofficial responsibilities of his spouse? Why, then, would Hillary be expected to do both?
Whether or not she is the best possible Presidential candidate, Hillary Clinton’s bid for the Democratic ticket is a step toward changing the perception that the U.S. Presidency is a man’s job. Women hold top offices in other countries around the world, but for some reason, the United States, which prides itself on being an advanced nation, is still stuck with the archaic notion that it ultimately takes a man to lead. I believe that this country needs more women like Hillary—intelligent, successful women who challenge the status quo.
However, shows like ET seriously undermine efforts to change gender perceptions in politics and the workplace by refusing to acknowledge the positions that characterize Hillary’s endeavor and focusing instead on what they think people want to know about her (Will she redecorate? What will she wear to the next debate?). Instead, ET reinforces the idea that a lot of people probably carry—it’s nice that she’s running and all, but really, what does she know about politics?
What’s truly unfortunate is that for some people, shows like ET serve as a primary news source. Some people don’t take these programs for what they are—televised tabloids—and are actually influenced by what is presented. Frighteningly, such influence has the potential to sway opinions at the polls and to ultimately negatively impact the welfare of the country. I don’t know about you, but I for one am appalled that “fluffy” questions about matters unrelated to politics (like decorating, or even religious affiliation) can influence a vote. I wish that so-called journalists would take the initiative to use their public influence to educate rather than to distract for the sake of “entertainment.”
Friday, November 2, 2007
Doubt
What happens when you suddenly, for no reason at all, have misgivings? What happens if you've been spending the past year plus of your life staying somewhere, pursuing a career path about which you feel only lukewarm at best, because you wanted to be with someone, and then out of the blue, you find yourself with a sick feeling in your gut, wondering if maybe he's starting to move in a different direction? What do you do when you were always sure that you were the one who was going to leave, and suddenly you feel like you might, in fact, be the one left behind?
I suppose if you're a mature, rational individual, you talk about it. And if you may be (just a little) crazy on the inside, you let it fester ad tear you apart.
But how, how can you ask someone whom you can't even tell you love (and who has never told you the same) if he's stopped loving you?
I suppose if you're a mature, rational individual, you talk about it. And if you may be (just a little) crazy on the inside, you let it fester ad tear you apart.
But how, how can you ask someone whom you can't even tell you love (and who has never told you the same) if he's stopped loving you?
Wednesday, October 31, 2007
Disillusionment
Tori Amos has played a major role in the soundtrack of my life since I was fourteen years old. She helped me cope with adolescent angst, and as I got older, she helped ease my broken heart as I learned to love, lose, and let go. Lately I've been finding myself increasingly drawn to lines that reflect a sentiment of regret for unfulfilled hopes. I saw her in concert a couple of weeks ago, and the line that made me cry was "So sure we were all something; Your feet are finally on the ground." Tonight, listening to "Little Earthquakes," I felt a few pangs with the lines "I hear my voice, and it's been here, silent all these years," and "Hair is grey and the fires are burning, so many dreams on the shelf."
Tonight is Halloween. Halloween has for many years been my favorite holiday, topping even Christmas and Thanksgiving, both of which I adore for the abundance of delicious food and the gathering of many of those dear to me. Halloween is a chance for hedonistic fun--a chance to escape your identity and become a character (in public, without fear of being judged as clinically insane), indulge your inner child, eat (lots of) candy, get drunk, and enjoy being alive, in the moment. I always swore that nary a Halloween would pass where I did not dress up and get out in the thick of it. Indeed this year I contemplated my costume long and hard, and eventually I came up with several that would be fun, reasonably unique, and--most importantly since I'm no longer 18 and looking for the attention and approval of strange men--not "a slutty (insert noun here; e.g. nurse, cop, pirate, bumblebee, etc.)." Not to judge, of course. I've been two of those four examples before.
But where am I this evening? Why, I'm curled on my bed with my laptop, typing away and listening to Tori Amos. I worked late today. I finished my run even later and, starving, came home and made a quick dinner, had some tea, looked at some job specs and marked those to which I will be applying this weekend, then got ready for work tomorrow. It was just another day. I never even made one of the several costumes I envisioned; I just didn't have time. I am not out with the thousands of other New Yorkers, celebrating, drinking, and dancing in costume, weekdays and hangovers be damned. I'm being a responsible adult.
I hate being a responsible adult.
I am doing what I swore I'd never do. I'm working for the paycheck, working at a job I don't like at all because I'm afraid to take a pay cut. I'm chained to a computer under fluorescent lights. I don't see daylight for very long, and soon, once Daylight Saving Time is over, I won't see it really at all. I breathe recycled air and endure ridiculous building-regulated climate control. I smile at people I loathe. I endure verbal beatings and tell myself it's a "learning experience." I pretend to care about what I do, when in reality the atmosphere in which I work is so toxic that I no longer care about anything but leaving for the day.
The real world is quickly beating my personality out of me. Not only do I now not dress up for Halloween, but there are a whole host of other things I used to relish that I no longer do. I don't sing loudly in the shower or car anymore; in fact, I hardly sing at all. I don't dance (rather, flail) in front of the mirror for no reason at all when no one is looking. I don't draw. I don't paint. I don't look for cool photo opps. I don't perform. I don't randomly call my friends just to talk or hang out with people with the sole purpose of engaging in a great conversation. I barely write.
I feel like I was once a creative, interesting person. Life was inspiring. Now life is just...life. And I'm not coping well these days. Many mornings when getting ready for work, feelings of deep dread and anxiety settle in my chest and threaten to crush my lungs. I feel like I'm going to scream, going to snap, going to explode. And then I convince myself to make it through one more day. After all, it's not as if I have nothing to look forward to. Weekends in New York can be amazing--there is so much to explore and discover. I have a boy that I (dare I say?) love (even though I still can't bring myself to tell him that). When I spend time with him, everything sort of seems like it's going to be okay.
The problem is that I don't know how much longer I can continue living for the weekends. I swore to myself I wouldn't be this person, a person who wishes most of her time would just pass so she could get to the good parts. I was going to be a person who made a living in the good parts. Then I moved to New York and learned the implications of having rent that is twice the national average. You can't just do whatever you want without regard to the size of your salary--unless, of course, you have a trust fund. Alas, unlike many of my Williamsburg counterparts, I do not. In fact, for the last two years I saved money just in case my father didn't get his job back.
I also don't quite know what to do with myself. I have some realistic goals, a bit of ambition, and every now and then, I still have dreams. But increasingly the dreams are but wistful thoughts that come and go and just leave an aching twinge in their wake. I don't really believe in myself anymore. I believe I can be successful by a certain standard, but I've lost that certain kind of faith that allows a girl to believe in herself and believe that everything is potentially within her grasp. Instead, I'm watching myself reshape my internal framework and expectations of life so that I don't feel like I've let myself down.
But when I listen to Tori, I remember. I remember sitting in my room, listening, memorizing every musical nuance and imitating every vocal inflection of every song. I remember singing my heart out, liking what I heard, and liking how it made me feel. I remember dreaming huge dreams, envisioning what would happen once I got beyond those four walls in that house in the woods and was released into the world. I remember how it feels to be passionate. I remember who I am capable of being.
I want to find that girl again, that girl who is a more innocent and perhaps more unadulterated me. I want to embrace her, tell her that it's going to be okay, tell her that I'm not going to turn her away and tell her that she's silly any more. I want to let her know that we can work together, her with her fire and me with my experience, and together we can still do something; in fact, maybe we can do more than either of us alone.
I want to tell her that I'm sorry for stifling her emotions, for making her be controlled and closed. I want to tell her that it's okay for her to feel, to vibrate with emotion, whether that emotion is excitement or heartbreak or something in between. I want to let her know that it's okay to let others know how you feel, even if it makes you vulnerable. It's okay to cry and to sing and to laugh with abandon. It's okay to dream, and okay to love. I may be older and perhaps experience has given me more insight, but I think that if she forgives me, I can learn a few things from her yet. Maybe there is still time, and hope.
"Give me life, give me pain, give me myself again."
Tonight is Halloween. Halloween has for many years been my favorite holiday, topping even Christmas and Thanksgiving, both of which I adore for the abundance of delicious food and the gathering of many of those dear to me. Halloween is a chance for hedonistic fun--a chance to escape your identity and become a character (in public, without fear of being judged as clinically insane), indulge your inner child, eat (lots of) candy, get drunk, and enjoy being alive, in the moment. I always swore that nary a Halloween would pass where I did not dress up and get out in the thick of it. Indeed this year I contemplated my costume long and hard, and eventually I came up with several that would be fun, reasonably unique, and--most importantly since I'm no longer 18 and looking for the attention and approval of strange men--not "a slutty (insert noun here; e.g. nurse, cop, pirate, bumblebee, etc.)." Not to judge, of course. I've been two of those four examples before.
But where am I this evening? Why, I'm curled on my bed with my laptop, typing away and listening to Tori Amos. I worked late today. I finished my run even later and, starving, came home and made a quick dinner, had some tea, looked at some job specs and marked those to which I will be applying this weekend, then got ready for work tomorrow. It was just another day. I never even made one of the several costumes I envisioned; I just didn't have time. I am not out with the thousands of other New Yorkers, celebrating, drinking, and dancing in costume, weekdays and hangovers be damned. I'm being a responsible adult.
I hate being a responsible adult.
I am doing what I swore I'd never do. I'm working for the paycheck, working at a job I don't like at all because I'm afraid to take a pay cut. I'm chained to a computer under fluorescent lights. I don't see daylight for very long, and soon, once Daylight Saving Time is over, I won't see it really at all. I breathe recycled air and endure ridiculous building-regulated climate control. I smile at people I loathe. I endure verbal beatings and tell myself it's a "learning experience." I pretend to care about what I do, when in reality the atmosphere in which I work is so toxic that I no longer care about anything but leaving for the day.
The real world is quickly beating my personality out of me. Not only do I now not dress up for Halloween, but there are a whole host of other things I used to relish that I no longer do. I don't sing loudly in the shower or car anymore; in fact, I hardly sing at all. I don't dance (rather, flail) in front of the mirror for no reason at all when no one is looking. I don't draw. I don't paint. I don't look for cool photo opps. I don't perform. I don't randomly call my friends just to talk or hang out with people with the sole purpose of engaging in a great conversation. I barely write.
I feel like I was once a creative, interesting person. Life was inspiring. Now life is just...life. And I'm not coping well these days. Many mornings when getting ready for work, feelings of deep dread and anxiety settle in my chest and threaten to crush my lungs. I feel like I'm going to scream, going to snap, going to explode. And then I convince myself to make it through one more day. After all, it's not as if I have nothing to look forward to. Weekends in New York can be amazing--there is so much to explore and discover. I have a boy that I (dare I say?) love (even though I still can't bring myself to tell him that). When I spend time with him, everything sort of seems like it's going to be okay.
The problem is that I don't know how much longer I can continue living for the weekends. I swore to myself I wouldn't be this person, a person who wishes most of her time would just pass so she could get to the good parts. I was going to be a person who made a living in the good parts. Then I moved to New York and learned the implications of having rent that is twice the national average. You can't just do whatever you want without regard to the size of your salary--unless, of course, you have a trust fund. Alas, unlike many of my Williamsburg counterparts, I do not. In fact, for the last two years I saved money just in case my father didn't get his job back.
I also don't quite know what to do with myself. I have some realistic goals, a bit of ambition, and every now and then, I still have dreams. But increasingly the dreams are but wistful thoughts that come and go and just leave an aching twinge in their wake. I don't really believe in myself anymore. I believe I can be successful by a certain standard, but I've lost that certain kind of faith that allows a girl to believe in herself and believe that everything is potentially within her grasp. Instead, I'm watching myself reshape my internal framework and expectations of life so that I don't feel like I've let myself down.
But when I listen to Tori, I remember. I remember sitting in my room, listening, memorizing every musical nuance and imitating every vocal inflection of every song. I remember singing my heart out, liking what I heard, and liking how it made me feel. I remember dreaming huge dreams, envisioning what would happen once I got beyond those four walls in that house in the woods and was released into the world. I remember how it feels to be passionate. I remember who I am capable of being.
I want to find that girl again, that girl who is a more innocent and perhaps more unadulterated me. I want to embrace her, tell her that it's going to be okay, tell her that I'm not going to turn her away and tell her that she's silly any more. I want to let her know that we can work together, her with her fire and me with my experience, and together we can still do something; in fact, maybe we can do more than either of us alone.
I want to tell her that I'm sorry for stifling her emotions, for making her be controlled and closed. I want to tell her that it's okay for her to feel, to vibrate with emotion, whether that emotion is excitement or heartbreak or something in between. I want to let her know that it's okay to let others know how you feel, even if it makes you vulnerable. It's okay to cry and to sing and to laugh with abandon. It's okay to dream, and okay to love. I may be older and perhaps experience has given me more insight, but I think that if she forgives me, I can learn a few things from her yet. Maybe there is still time, and hope.
"Give me life, give me pain, give me myself again."
Friday, July 27, 2007
The Weight of the Wait
About nine months ago, I cut off over a foot of my hair. The dramatic shearing wasn’t out of any desperate need for change or self-image makeover; instead, I had been growing it for over a year so that I could donate it to a non-profit that uses donated hair to make wigs for children with either permanent hair loss caused by alopecia or temporary hair loss caused by chemotherapy treatment. I certainly don’t think I’m the world’s savior because of this contribution, but hey, hair grows, and it was no major inconvenience to just avoid getting haircuts for awhile in order to contribute something small that will offer a bit of brightness to someone else’s day.
A few weeks afterward in the corridor of my office building, I passed a man who works in the office just past mine. He smiled and said “Your hair looks great. I heard you donated it to a group that makes wigs for kids with cancer.” When I confirmed that this was true, he said, “I think that’s great; it’s really nice. You see, I have cancer, and I always appreciate hearing that people care.”
Yesterday morning in the locker room of my gym as I was getting ready to go to work after my morning swim, I chatted with a young Polish woman who is usually there at the same time as me. She is pretty, with a soft, round face that is always smiling, but her bright blue eyes belie a hint of sadness that I suspect hides beneath the surface. After we groaned a bit about how early it was and how long the week had been, she began telling me about her motivations for getting up early each day to work out. “After my husband was diagnosed with cancer, I decided I needed to work harder to make myself stronger. That’s why I get out of bed in the morning and come here. It helps.”
Three years ago my grandmother died of gastric cancer; she was 71. Nearly twenty years ago my grandfather died of colon and lung cancer; he was 67. Last week I learned that I have high-grade intraepithelial lesions; this means that there are patches of cells on my cervix that are undergoing pre-malignant changes. If I were to do nothing about it, there is a very high probability that I would develop cervical cancer and that it would kill me. I am 26.
Next week I will have these problematic cells removed during an in-office visit where my doctor will use loop electrosurgical excision procedure (LEEP). A thin, low-voltage electrified wire loop will cut out the abnormal tissue; it will be packaged up nicely and sent off to a lab to make sure none of the pesky cells has gone cancerous, and I will wait and see what my insides look like in three months. Hopefully this will be it; all abnormalities will be removed and I will continue to live a long, normal, cancer-free lifespan.
When my doctor called me last week, I was at work. I hadn’t even been thinking about my recent biopsy because low-grade (e.g., lower risk of becoming cancerous) intraepithelial lesions are extremely common amongst women in their twenties, and there was no reason to think that I would be the exception to the rule. After all, by anyone’s standards I am a really healthy individual—I almost never even get the sniffles, which is no small immunologic feat considering the sheer number of sick New Yorkers in the wintertime who wipe their germ-infested snotty noses on their hands/gloves/sleeves and brush up against you or grasp the same bar on the subway car that you must also immediately grab as the train lurches forward. My doctor’s matter-of-fact news made my heart drop into my stomach. I went into the stairwell and called my boyfriend, then choked back the tears, and returned to my desk to finish my work. I thought I could hold myself together until I was alone and had time to process everything, but unfortunately at the time I also had two houseguests, and alone time was not possible. Embarrassingly, I had a huge meltdown later that night that involved me sitting and sobbing on the fire escape just so that I could be alone.
Maybe I overreacted; after all, it’s not as if I’d been diagnosed with full-blown cancer and have six months to live. But I will try to explain the rationale for my emotional outburst as best I can. First, this procedure scares me. Yes, I know it’s not surgery per se, but I am having chunks of my cervix cut out. It’s going to hurt; lord knows the biopsy hurt enough. A local injection of anesthesia is going to be unpleasant, to say the least, and then, well, afterward there will lots of cramping, and let’s not forget the potential weeks of bleeding.
Second, women who have chunks of their cervix whittled away are likely to have more complicated pregnancies. Of course, you say that if I don’t want children, this should not be an issue to me, but as I tried to explain to my boyfriend, it’s not that I suddenly want children after knowing it’s going to be hard to have them, it’s just that I don’t like having options closed to me. And bang, there’s that door more or less slammed shut. After LEEP, women are less likely to carry pregnancies to term because of greater likelihood or cervical dilation during pregnancy, and that is the mildest pregnancy-related complication.
Third, I am scared what the pathologists might find in the samples that are sent to them for further testing. There is no reason to assume that I do in fact have cancer, but again, there was no reason for me to assume that this was going to happen either. I just feel like I am nowhere near out of the woods yet, and the prospect of going through the full treatment regimen for cervical cancer, the nuances of which I don’t even know yet, terrifies me.
Fourth, I feel a profound sense of unfairness about the whole situation. For as long as I can remember, I have been an extremely responsible individual in all aspects of life. I try to do things that are good in general and good for me in particular. I am very health-conscious and well-educated. I eat well, exercise often, make sure I’m not engaging in any “risk-taking behavior” on the personal health level (unless you count things like SCUBA diving, which is in another category, in my opinion). I encourage other people to be healthier, to reduce their risk of various kinds of disease. I’ve done everything right. And yet I must suffer the same consequences as if I were a much more irresponsible person.
Fifth, I’m angry. I’m angry for the same reason I feel that this is unfair, but I’m angry for a much larger reason than that. I’m angry because Gardasil® came too late for me. In case you are still catching up, Gardasil is the cervical cancer vaccine. If administered to girls (and boys, but that is a longer explanation) before they become sexually active, it is 99% effective at preventing the strains of human papillomavirus (HPV) that are the cause of almost all types of cervical cancer. I did get this series of shots immediately after it was approved by the FDA, but apparently by that time I already had the HPV strain that causes intraepithelial lesions to appear in the first place. Of course, I had no way of knowing, as my Pap smears had always been normal, and there is no other way to tell if you have this HPV strain because there are no symptoms. If this shot had been around when I was nine years old, I would not be going through this now.
However, the “what-ifs” of the situation aren’t the factors that really make my blood boil. The real source of my anger is that there is now a safe, effective vaccine that has the potential to eradicate this form of cancer. There is also a second cervical cancer vaccine, Cervarix™, in development now that will likely be approved within the year. Cervical cancer is currently the third most common form of cancer amongst women in the United States (and certainly in other areas of the world it is much more prevalent). And yet there are people who protest its use on supposed “moral” and “religious” grounds. The theory goes like this: Almost all cervical cancer is caused by HPV. HPV is sexually transmitted. If you vaccinate against cervical cancer, you are also vaccinating against a sexually transmitted disease. Therefore, if you vaccinate your children against a sexually transmitted disease, you are giving them permission to have sex, because than there will be no negative repercussions from having sex.
Right.
The logic of this particular syllogism escapes me too. The obvious fault is that even though this particular consequence of engaging in sexual activity would be eliminated, it does not change the fact that there are still a whole host of other terrible viruses and bacterial infections against which this vaccine provides no protection, including HIV, herpes, chlamydia, and gonorrhea to name a few, not to mention unintended pregnancy. One of the several less obvious arguments is that even if a young woman remains “virtuous” until the day she is married, there is no guarantee that her future spouse has, and that he is not carrying the strain of HPV that causes cervical cancer. He of course would have no way to tell if he was infected because this strain has no negative repercussions for men, as men do not have cervixes.
However, my understanding of the dissenters’ thinking is that if young girls fear contracting HPV and possibly cervical cancer, then of course they will not have sex (despite the fact that presumably the threat of HIV/AIDS is not a deterrent, by this rationale). There are certain sectors of people who are now vocally proclaiming that vaccination should be optional; that is should be a parent’s choice instead of being something that is mandated (and in the case of the socio-economically disadvantaged, paid for) by the government. (Of course, the people who fall into this category are usually Republican, conservative, Christian, have zealot tendencies, or some combination thereof, and because of this and other reasons, although I am trying to remain a relatively non-judgmental individual, I am beginning to detest them all unilaterally.) These peoples’ so-called moral fervor, as usual, gets the better of them, and not only do they decide not to protect their own daughters from a disease that can eventually kill them, but they are also forcing the poor, the uneducated, and often minority groups to also forego immunity from this particular disease.
Think about it. Those of us who are fortunate enough to be well-educated and who have a basic grasp of modern medicine will at least know about the existence of this vaccine and will understand how it works. We can have the option (and health insurance coverage) to choose whether or not to be vaccinated and to vaccinate our children. However, there are many, many people in this country who are not even aware that Gardasil is around, and even if they may have heard the name, they may not fully understand what it does and how it has the potential to save thousands of lives. In addition, there are countless people who may know about it and understand its benefits but who cannot afford it because they are uninsured or underinsured. $300-500 for three shots (plus time off from work to go to the appointments) is a lot of money when you are living paycheck to paycheck. These people really do not have a choice whether or not to get vaccinated or vaccinate their children; it’s already made for them. The only way that all sectors of society can benefit from this advance in medicine is if the vaccine is made mandatory for all schoolchildren; this way all kids (starting with girls, of course, pending more safety and efficacy testing by the drug’s manufacturer to verify its value for using it on boys, too) will receive it before they enter a certain year of school (and presumably before they become sexually active).
However, if the religious right has its way, there will be no mandatory vaccination for children, and eventually more women will die from a disease that we have the potential to completely stamp out within our lifespan. Case and point: take the July 12, 2007 approval of the 2008 Labor-HHS-Education appropriations bill (HR 3043). I have included the portion of Kaiser Family Foundation* Daily Women’s Health Policy Report from July 19, 2007 that describes the bill:
House Passes Spending Bill That Increases Abstinence Education, Family Planning Program Funding, Bans Funding for Mandated HPV Vaccination
The House on Thursday voted 276-140 to approve a $152 billion fiscal year 2008 Labor-HHS-Education appropriations bill (HR 3043), which includes increases in funding for HHS' Community-Based Abstinence Education Program and for the Title X family planning program, the AP/San Diego Union-Tribune reports (Taylor, AP/San Diego Union-Tribune, 7/19).
CBAE, which gives grants to groups that teach abstinence but not how to use contraception, would receive an allocation of $141 million for FY 2008 under the measure. The program's allocation in FY 2007 was $109 million, and President Bush requested a $137 million allocation for the program in FY 2008. Some Democrats hope the funding level for CBAE will garner support from Republicans on spending bills.
The measure also would allocate $311 million for Title X, an increase of $27.8 million from FY 2007. Some family planning advocates said the allocation is less than historic levels of funding, adjusted for inflation. The bill also would leave in place restrictions on federal funding for abortions. Bush has said that he will veto spending bills that exceed his budget requests (Kaiser Daily Women's Health Policy Report, 6/8). The Senate has not yet acted on the companion Labor-HHS-Education appropriations bill.
HPV Vaccine Amendment
The House bill also includes an amendment, introduced by Rep. Phil Gingrey (R-Ga.), that would prohibit federal funds from being used by states to require human papillomavirus vaccinations for school attendance. Gingrey's amendment passed on Wednesday by voice vote (Gingrey release, 7/19).
"I applaud the development of an HPV vaccine," Gingrey said, adding, "But for states to mandate vaccination for young women is both unprecedented and unacceptable. Whether or not girls get vaccinated against HPV is a decision for parents and physicians, not politicians and bureaucrats" (Lopes, Washington Times, 7/20).
Planned Parenthood Amendment
The House also voted 231-189 to reject an amendment introduced by Rep. Mike Pence (R-Ind.), that would have prohibited Planned Parenthood clinics from receiving any of the bill's family planning funds, CQ Today reports. Rep. Trent Franks (R-Ariz.) called Planned Parenthood a "death-dealing organization." Rep. Rosa DeLauro (D-Conn.) said, "If we value, as we say we do, women's health, ... we cannot strip Planned Parenthood of funding."
Nancy Clack, Planned Parenthood Federation of America vice president for public policy, said, "Planned Parenthood applauds members of Congress for defeating this outrageous attack on family planning and the more than 2.4 million women and men who rely on Planned Parenthood for birth control every year" (Wayne, CQ Today, 7/19).
I cannot possibly go into all the aspects of this bill that anger me (abstinence-only sex education is another long-winded rant entirely) or the ways in which it could have been worse (at least the Planned Parenthood Amendment made it) without writing a novel, so I will focus solely on the HPV Vaccine Amendment.
When I first read this release, I was livid to the point of being practically in tears. I simply could not believe that our policymakers, the people who are supposed to be concerned with the well-being of the American people, would allow their ideology to completely defy common sense. The quote from Rep. Phil Gingrey (a Republican from Georgia, of course) particularly set me off. He said, “I applaud the development of an HPV vaccine, but for states to mandate vaccination for young women is both unprecedented and unacceptable. Whether or not girls get vaccinated against HPV is a decision for parents and physicians, not politicians and bureaucrats.”
Correct me if I’m wrong, but the last time I checked it was, in fact, mandatory for ALL children attending school in this country to be vaccinated for measles, mumps, and rubella, among other diseases before they are allowed to enroll. Therefore I cannot see how a mandatory HPV vaccination is “both unprecedented and unacceptable.” Is it simply because currently the vaccine is FDA approved for females only? Or is it because of the stigma associated with sexually transmitted disease? I fail to understand why a parent would choose to protect his or her child against one disease but not another simply because of the way it is contracted.
My gut emotional reaction to the idea of a parent purposefully denying his or her child protection against a disease (and also that of policymakers denying thousands of women that same protection) is one of abject horror. It appalls me to think that there are people out there who think that HPV and cervical cancer are rightful consequences to engaging in “sinful” behavior. I have cried myself to sleep over the thought that there are parents who would set their daughters and granddaughters up to go through what I am going through now because they think God thinks sex is bad. I can’t comprehend how someone could think that all this tension and emotional turbulence, all the pain of the treatment procedures and the worrying about test results, the recovery time, potential pregnancy complications, and, worst-case scenario, cancer treatment, and if that doesn’t happen, a very painful death, is somehow deserved because a woman did not behave as she was “supposed to” behave.
I would be willing to bet if a vaccine were developed that could protect people against skin cancer, leukemia, lymphomas, lung cancer, or any other type of cancer, there would be very little moral protest about vaccinating the entire nation. If there were a cure for my grandfather’s colon cancer or my grandmother’s gastric cancer, then they would still be alive to see all their grandchildren being born and growing up. If there were a prophylactic drug that could have completely prevented their horrible, slow, and suffering disease progressions and ultimately their painful deaths, then I am sure that no one would have argued its value and its use. If we can stop pain and disease before they even begin, what is the harm in that? Why then would we deny women the same benefit that we would hypothetically give gastric or colon or lung cancer patients simply because they are sexually active? Is my life less valuable that that of someone who contracts breast or lung cancer? If the goal of cancer research is, as so many cancer advocates state, truly to eliminate the disease in all its forms, then we must start somewhere. Science has already made incredible strides in the right direction. When will the rest of society catch up?
As for me, now it's just a waiting game. I wait nervously for the procedure itself and with even more apprehension for lab results, which will come a week after the test. All I can do is hope for the best.
*The Kaiser Family Foundation is an organization that seeks to provide “timely, reliable, and non-partisan information on national health issues to policymakers, the media, and the general public.” See www.kaisernetwork.org for more information.
A few weeks afterward in the corridor of my office building, I passed a man who works in the office just past mine. He smiled and said “Your hair looks great. I heard you donated it to a group that makes wigs for kids with cancer.” When I confirmed that this was true, he said, “I think that’s great; it’s really nice. You see, I have cancer, and I always appreciate hearing that people care.”
Yesterday morning in the locker room of my gym as I was getting ready to go to work after my morning swim, I chatted with a young Polish woman who is usually there at the same time as me. She is pretty, with a soft, round face that is always smiling, but her bright blue eyes belie a hint of sadness that I suspect hides beneath the surface. After we groaned a bit about how early it was and how long the week had been, she began telling me about her motivations for getting up early each day to work out. “After my husband was diagnosed with cancer, I decided I needed to work harder to make myself stronger. That’s why I get out of bed in the morning and come here. It helps.”
Three years ago my grandmother died of gastric cancer; she was 71. Nearly twenty years ago my grandfather died of colon and lung cancer; he was 67. Last week I learned that I have high-grade intraepithelial lesions; this means that there are patches of cells on my cervix that are undergoing pre-malignant changes. If I were to do nothing about it, there is a very high probability that I would develop cervical cancer and that it would kill me. I am 26.
Next week I will have these problematic cells removed during an in-office visit where my doctor will use loop electrosurgical excision procedure (LEEP). A thin, low-voltage electrified wire loop will cut out the abnormal tissue; it will be packaged up nicely and sent off to a lab to make sure none of the pesky cells has gone cancerous, and I will wait and see what my insides look like in three months. Hopefully this will be it; all abnormalities will be removed and I will continue to live a long, normal, cancer-free lifespan.
When my doctor called me last week, I was at work. I hadn’t even been thinking about my recent biopsy because low-grade (e.g., lower risk of becoming cancerous) intraepithelial lesions are extremely common amongst women in their twenties, and there was no reason to think that I would be the exception to the rule. After all, by anyone’s standards I am a really healthy individual—I almost never even get the sniffles, which is no small immunologic feat considering the sheer number of sick New Yorkers in the wintertime who wipe their germ-infested snotty noses on their hands/gloves/sleeves and brush up against you or grasp the same bar on the subway car that you must also immediately grab as the train lurches forward. My doctor’s matter-of-fact news made my heart drop into my stomach. I went into the stairwell and called my boyfriend, then choked back the tears, and returned to my desk to finish my work. I thought I could hold myself together until I was alone and had time to process everything, but unfortunately at the time I also had two houseguests, and alone time was not possible. Embarrassingly, I had a huge meltdown later that night that involved me sitting and sobbing on the fire escape just so that I could be alone.
Maybe I overreacted; after all, it’s not as if I’d been diagnosed with full-blown cancer and have six months to live. But I will try to explain the rationale for my emotional outburst as best I can. First, this procedure scares me. Yes, I know it’s not surgery per se, but I am having chunks of my cervix cut out. It’s going to hurt; lord knows the biopsy hurt enough. A local injection of anesthesia is going to be unpleasant, to say the least, and then, well, afterward there will lots of cramping, and let’s not forget the potential weeks of bleeding.
Second, women who have chunks of their cervix whittled away are likely to have more complicated pregnancies. Of course, you say that if I don’t want children, this should not be an issue to me, but as I tried to explain to my boyfriend, it’s not that I suddenly want children after knowing it’s going to be hard to have them, it’s just that I don’t like having options closed to me. And bang, there’s that door more or less slammed shut. After LEEP, women are less likely to carry pregnancies to term because of greater likelihood or cervical dilation during pregnancy, and that is the mildest pregnancy-related complication.
Third, I am scared what the pathologists might find in the samples that are sent to them for further testing. There is no reason to assume that I do in fact have cancer, but again, there was no reason for me to assume that this was going to happen either. I just feel like I am nowhere near out of the woods yet, and the prospect of going through the full treatment regimen for cervical cancer, the nuances of which I don’t even know yet, terrifies me.
Fourth, I feel a profound sense of unfairness about the whole situation. For as long as I can remember, I have been an extremely responsible individual in all aspects of life. I try to do things that are good in general and good for me in particular. I am very health-conscious and well-educated. I eat well, exercise often, make sure I’m not engaging in any “risk-taking behavior” on the personal health level (unless you count things like SCUBA diving, which is in another category, in my opinion). I encourage other people to be healthier, to reduce their risk of various kinds of disease. I’ve done everything right. And yet I must suffer the same consequences as if I were a much more irresponsible person.
Fifth, I’m angry. I’m angry for the same reason I feel that this is unfair, but I’m angry for a much larger reason than that. I’m angry because Gardasil® came too late for me. In case you are still catching up, Gardasil is the cervical cancer vaccine. If administered to girls (and boys, but that is a longer explanation) before they become sexually active, it is 99% effective at preventing the strains of human papillomavirus (HPV) that are the cause of almost all types of cervical cancer. I did get this series of shots immediately after it was approved by the FDA, but apparently by that time I already had the HPV strain that causes intraepithelial lesions to appear in the first place. Of course, I had no way of knowing, as my Pap smears had always been normal, and there is no other way to tell if you have this HPV strain because there are no symptoms. If this shot had been around when I was nine years old, I would not be going through this now.
However, the “what-ifs” of the situation aren’t the factors that really make my blood boil. The real source of my anger is that there is now a safe, effective vaccine that has the potential to eradicate this form of cancer. There is also a second cervical cancer vaccine, Cervarix™, in development now that will likely be approved within the year. Cervical cancer is currently the third most common form of cancer amongst women in the United States (and certainly in other areas of the world it is much more prevalent). And yet there are people who protest its use on supposed “moral” and “religious” grounds. The theory goes like this: Almost all cervical cancer is caused by HPV. HPV is sexually transmitted. If you vaccinate against cervical cancer, you are also vaccinating against a sexually transmitted disease. Therefore, if you vaccinate your children against a sexually transmitted disease, you are giving them permission to have sex, because than there will be no negative repercussions from having sex.
Right.
The logic of this particular syllogism escapes me too. The obvious fault is that even though this particular consequence of engaging in sexual activity would be eliminated, it does not change the fact that there are still a whole host of other terrible viruses and bacterial infections against which this vaccine provides no protection, including HIV, herpes, chlamydia, and gonorrhea to name a few, not to mention unintended pregnancy. One of the several less obvious arguments is that even if a young woman remains “virtuous” until the day she is married, there is no guarantee that her future spouse has, and that he is not carrying the strain of HPV that causes cervical cancer. He of course would have no way to tell if he was infected because this strain has no negative repercussions for men, as men do not have cervixes.
However, my understanding of the dissenters’ thinking is that if young girls fear contracting HPV and possibly cervical cancer, then of course they will not have sex (despite the fact that presumably the threat of HIV/AIDS is not a deterrent, by this rationale). There are certain sectors of people who are now vocally proclaiming that vaccination should be optional; that is should be a parent’s choice instead of being something that is mandated (and in the case of the socio-economically disadvantaged, paid for) by the government. (Of course, the people who fall into this category are usually Republican, conservative, Christian, have zealot tendencies, or some combination thereof, and because of this and other reasons, although I am trying to remain a relatively non-judgmental individual, I am beginning to detest them all unilaterally.) These peoples’ so-called moral fervor, as usual, gets the better of them, and not only do they decide not to protect their own daughters from a disease that can eventually kill them, but they are also forcing the poor, the uneducated, and often minority groups to also forego immunity from this particular disease.
Think about it. Those of us who are fortunate enough to be well-educated and who have a basic grasp of modern medicine will at least know about the existence of this vaccine and will understand how it works. We can have the option (and health insurance coverage) to choose whether or not to be vaccinated and to vaccinate our children. However, there are many, many people in this country who are not even aware that Gardasil is around, and even if they may have heard the name, they may not fully understand what it does and how it has the potential to save thousands of lives. In addition, there are countless people who may know about it and understand its benefits but who cannot afford it because they are uninsured or underinsured. $300-500 for three shots (plus time off from work to go to the appointments) is a lot of money when you are living paycheck to paycheck. These people really do not have a choice whether or not to get vaccinated or vaccinate their children; it’s already made for them. The only way that all sectors of society can benefit from this advance in medicine is if the vaccine is made mandatory for all schoolchildren; this way all kids (starting with girls, of course, pending more safety and efficacy testing by the drug’s manufacturer to verify its value for using it on boys, too) will receive it before they enter a certain year of school (and presumably before they become sexually active).
However, if the religious right has its way, there will be no mandatory vaccination for children, and eventually more women will die from a disease that we have the potential to completely stamp out within our lifespan. Case and point: take the July 12, 2007 approval of the 2008 Labor-HHS-Education appropriations bill (HR 3043). I have included the portion of Kaiser Family Foundation* Daily Women’s Health Policy Report from July 19, 2007 that describes the bill:
House Passes Spending Bill That Increases Abstinence Education, Family Planning Program Funding, Bans Funding for Mandated HPV Vaccination
The House on Thursday voted 276-140 to approve a $152 billion fiscal year 2008 Labor-HHS-Education appropriations bill (HR 3043), which includes increases in funding for HHS' Community-Based Abstinence Education Program and for the Title X family planning program, the AP/San Diego Union-Tribune reports (Taylor, AP/San Diego Union-Tribune, 7/19).
CBAE, which gives grants to groups that teach abstinence but not how to use contraception, would receive an allocation of $141 million for FY 2008 under the measure. The program's allocation in FY 2007 was $109 million, and President Bush requested a $137 million allocation for the program in FY 2008. Some Democrats hope the funding level for CBAE will garner support from Republicans on spending bills.
The measure also would allocate $311 million for Title X, an increase of $27.8 million from FY 2007. Some family planning advocates said the allocation is less than historic levels of funding, adjusted for inflation. The bill also would leave in place restrictions on federal funding for abortions. Bush has said that he will veto spending bills that exceed his budget requests (Kaiser Daily Women's Health Policy Report, 6/8). The Senate has not yet acted on the companion Labor-HHS-Education appropriations bill.
HPV Vaccine Amendment
The House bill also includes an amendment, introduced by Rep. Phil Gingrey (R-Ga.), that would prohibit federal funds from being used by states to require human papillomavirus vaccinations for school attendance. Gingrey's amendment passed on Wednesday by voice vote (Gingrey release, 7/19).
"I applaud the development of an HPV vaccine," Gingrey said, adding, "But for states to mandate vaccination for young women is both unprecedented and unacceptable. Whether or not girls get vaccinated against HPV is a decision for parents and physicians, not politicians and bureaucrats" (Lopes, Washington Times, 7/20).
Planned Parenthood Amendment
The House also voted 231-189 to reject an amendment introduced by Rep. Mike Pence (R-Ind.), that would have prohibited Planned Parenthood clinics from receiving any of the bill's family planning funds, CQ Today reports. Rep. Trent Franks (R-Ariz.) called Planned Parenthood a "death-dealing organization." Rep. Rosa DeLauro (D-Conn.) said, "If we value, as we say we do, women's health, ... we cannot strip Planned Parenthood of funding."
Nancy Clack, Planned Parenthood Federation of America vice president for public policy, said, "Planned Parenthood applauds members of Congress for defeating this outrageous attack on family planning and the more than 2.4 million women and men who rely on Planned Parenthood for birth control every year" (Wayne, CQ Today, 7/19).
I cannot possibly go into all the aspects of this bill that anger me (abstinence-only sex education is another long-winded rant entirely) or the ways in which it could have been worse (at least the Planned Parenthood Amendment made it) without writing a novel, so I will focus solely on the HPV Vaccine Amendment.
When I first read this release, I was livid to the point of being practically in tears. I simply could not believe that our policymakers, the people who are supposed to be concerned with the well-being of the American people, would allow their ideology to completely defy common sense. The quote from Rep. Phil Gingrey (a Republican from Georgia, of course) particularly set me off. He said, “I applaud the development of an HPV vaccine, but for states to mandate vaccination for young women is both unprecedented and unacceptable. Whether or not girls get vaccinated against HPV is a decision for parents and physicians, not politicians and bureaucrats.”
Correct me if I’m wrong, but the last time I checked it was, in fact, mandatory for ALL children attending school in this country to be vaccinated for measles, mumps, and rubella, among other diseases before they are allowed to enroll. Therefore I cannot see how a mandatory HPV vaccination is “both unprecedented and unacceptable.” Is it simply because currently the vaccine is FDA approved for females only? Or is it because of the stigma associated with sexually transmitted disease? I fail to understand why a parent would choose to protect his or her child against one disease but not another simply because of the way it is contracted.
My gut emotional reaction to the idea of a parent purposefully denying his or her child protection against a disease (and also that of policymakers denying thousands of women that same protection) is one of abject horror. It appalls me to think that there are people out there who think that HPV and cervical cancer are rightful consequences to engaging in “sinful” behavior. I have cried myself to sleep over the thought that there are parents who would set their daughters and granddaughters up to go through what I am going through now because they think God thinks sex is bad. I can’t comprehend how someone could think that all this tension and emotional turbulence, all the pain of the treatment procedures and the worrying about test results, the recovery time, potential pregnancy complications, and, worst-case scenario, cancer treatment, and if that doesn’t happen, a very painful death, is somehow deserved because a woman did not behave as she was “supposed to” behave.
I would be willing to bet if a vaccine were developed that could protect people against skin cancer, leukemia, lymphomas, lung cancer, or any other type of cancer, there would be very little moral protest about vaccinating the entire nation. If there were a cure for my grandfather’s colon cancer or my grandmother’s gastric cancer, then they would still be alive to see all their grandchildren being born and growing up. If there were a prophylactic drug that could have completely prevented their horrible, slow, and suffering disease progressions and ultimately their painful deaths, then I am sure that no one would have argued its value and its use. If we can stop pain and disease before they even begin, what is the harm in that? Why then would we deny women the same benefit that we would hypothetically give gastric or colon or lung cancer patients simply because they are sexually active? Is my life less valuable that that of someone who contracts breast or lung cancer? If the goal of cancer research is, as so many cancer advocates state, truly to eliminate the disease in all its forms, then we must start somewhere. Science has already made incredible strides in the right direction. When will the rest of society catch up?
As for me, now it's just a waiting game. I wait nervously for the procedure itself and with even more apprehension for lab results, which will come a week after the test. All I can do is hope for the best.
*The Kaiser Family Foundation is an organization that seeks to provide “timely, reliable, and non-partisan information on national health issues to policymakers, the media, and the general public.” See www.kaisernetwork.org for more information.
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