Abortion in Pill Form: The Future is Now!

Finally, the abortion pill is here. After years of bureaucratic hold ups and delays, Health Canada has approved for use in Canada a drug that millions of people have been taking safely in dozens of other countries for quite some time.

RU-486 (as it is commonly known in the States) is actually two drugs - mifepristone and misoprostol. Although they talked to some anti-choice ding-dongs, CBC does have a pretty good run down of what it is and how it works here:

RU-486: What you need to know about the recently approved abortion pill

What is so great about this in a Canadian context is that this is a big, spread out country, and a lot of the problems around access to abortion have to do with rural isolation and the lack of facilities, causing people seeking abortions to have to travel long distances to access them. Having the medication available means that abortion can happen outside of a clinic or hospital setting - namely, in your doctor's office.

It also means that some people who are able to, will choose medical abortion over surgical abortion - which frees up more surgical abortion spots and reduces wait times.

It's not perfect, of course - people without family doctors OR access to a clinic/hospital, or people with anti-choice doctors will still be stuck. Ideally we should fight for Canada to follow the WHO recommendations mentioned in the CBC article, to allow providers other than doctors to provide the pill. In my opinion it is ridiculous that nurse practitioners cannot already provide surgical abortions, honestly.

Regardless, this has been a long time coming and it will definitely change the landscape of abortion provision in Canada. As always, though, there is work to be done.

Vasectomies for some, miniature Canadian flags for others!

Do yourself a favour and go read this excellent piece by Leigha Ariana at the Toast, about how a woman named Norma Ellen Verwey trolled the entire country by proposing mandatory vasectomies to the Royal Commission on the Status of women. An important part of our history.

Everything, according to Norma, went exactly as she’d hoped. After being called onto talk show after talk show – “as expected, the moderators who contacted me were either impolite, chauvinistic and sarcastic, or patronising and full of good-humoured male upmanship,” she writes – she eventually got more than one medical doctor to call in, amidst the vulgar phone calls and personal attacks aplenty, to admit that, even in 1968, vasectomies had 60-70% reversibility. Some men phoned in to admit they’d had a vasectomy, and that they were happier for it, while others phoned in to express a wish to get a vasectomy; and soon, the conversation about vasectomies began to change. 

By the end of it, she says, no matter what else you wanted to say about it, “No listener in the Vancouver area, male or female, could claim that they had never heard of reversible vasectomy.” 

So please, never forget, if you are Canadian or even if you are not, this courageous woman who almost single-handedly changed the landscape of the Canadian birth control story with what began as a social experiment. She endured a great deal of ridicule in order to give this gift to us; the threatening phone calls did not end, though she received several in her support as well, and she was a topic in the papers for years to come.

#neverforget

Contraceptives of the Future!

I know this is kind of old news, but a friend of mine sent me this story and I've been meaning to blog about it for weeks.

Future contraceptives will let women remote-control their fertility

The gist is that the Gates Foundation is backing a biotech company specifically to design and build a contraceptive device straight out of science fiction. Here's the scoop:

MicroCHIPS has been testing the "intelligent drug delivery system" with osteoporosis patients who would otherwise require a daily barrage of injections. Bill-and-Melinda Gates and MIT's Robert Langer, however, believe that the technology could solve the family planning crisis that exists in the world's poorest countries. Reservoirs of levonogestrel, a contraceptive hormone would be kept inside the 1.5cm device, and could be activated and deactivated at the whims of the user with some sort of wireless device. 

So - that's a thing. Here are my thoughts.

1. I love that the Gates Foundation is just quietly on the forefront of every new BC technology lately (so it seems, anyway) - and more often than not, it's not just a birth control/family planning focus but a real bodily autonomy concern - of marginalized bodies - that is their motivation. Like I really am into the Gates Foundation in a big way.

2. Hippie granola concern: having a drug dispenser inside of me for 16 years doesn't really appeal to me, but I guess it's not really me that it would be targeted at. I just feel like we should be moving away from long-term drug-based contraceptives because we don't really know yet all the ways it fucks up our bodies and the environment. It worries me that people are on hormonal birth control from 14 to 44, only stopping to have a couple kids.

3. Security seems like a really big hurdle to get over with this - how are they going to ensure that it can't be screwed with? It's one thing to poke a hole in a condom, or replace a pill with a sugar pill; it's another thing to control the drugs being pumped into someone's bloodstream. This could be a suuuuuuuper easy way to kill someone and get away with it.

4. I would love to see less focus on the fancy technology of birth control and more on simpler ways of making it available and accessible to people and educating folks about their options. I feel like that's the greater need. Like I could see this being great for Western middle-class women, but if you're in a position where birth control is societally condemned and/or not available, this won't really help that much.

Mostly I'm all about concerns #3 and #4. I do applaud the Gates Foundation for being forward-thinking and all, but I feel like they need to back up a few steps and find a more productive way to use all that money. Let's assess the real problem vis-a-vis contraceptives in the world right now: the technology is not the problem. Inequality is the problem - unequal access, a lack of education, and oppressive systems that keep people from determining what they want for their bodies, and being informed enough - and free enough - to ask for that. I am oversimplifying it but there you are.

Thoughts? Is this something you would use (once they figure out the glaring security issue)?

My Bloody Weekend

So, a weird thing happened this weekend. FYI I'm about to talk about my vagina again so just take a rain check on this post if that's not the sort of thing you want to read about.

Some friends were visiting from the States, and staying with us all weekend, so it was good times. I was kind of bummed when my period came earlier than expected but you know, you gotta roll with it.

On Friday things were normal. I was bleeding normally - if a bit on the heavy side - but my IUD has been fucking up my periods for the last few months and I'm still waiting for shit to balance out. So whatever. On Saturday things were getting a little heavier, and the blood was a really deep, vibrant red. In the afternoon I started noticing clots. My underwear started looking like the scene of a particularly violent murder. I couldn't change my pads fast enough.

At dinner the situation persisted. I was still just thinking it was a heavy period, annoying but not worrisome. After dinner we went to a concert and it was there I got a little tired - bone-weary would be a good way to put it - and lightheaded. In the washroom I discovered that SINCE DINNER I had bled through my (new) pad, my underwear, and working on the inside of my jeans (well, that escalated quickly). Luckily it was near the end of the show.

At home I notices more clots. There had been some tissue earlier but I thought that was just normal - I usually notice some tissue with my period, just the uterine lining coming out. That's the point of the whole exercise. This time though the tissue was bigger. I inspected it (gross, I know, but I NEEDED TO KNOW) and it was blobby and lighter red, just smaller than a golf ball.

"Hmmm." I thought to myself. "That shouldn't be there."

In bed I took out my phone and started googling, and determined that based on my physical symptoms and the description of the tissue, I most likely had an early miscarriage.

In this time I could feel the blood seeping through my pad. I thought briefly that perhaps I should go to the hospital, but that seemed like an unnecessary hassle. When my partner came to bed I got up to change, then came back and said, "I think I just had a miscarriage."

I explained to him what had happened, my quick research, and the fact that IUDs only stop implantation, so it made sense. He didn't seem to know how to react - I could tell he was waiting to take a cue for me.

"It's not anything. It's not emotional, it's just gross." I said. We hugged and went to sleep.

I'm still bleeding but it feels more like an ordinary period. I don't know what to think of the whole thing; to be honest I would have expected to feel more feelings about it than I do. It's just an annoyance, really. More laundry to do. Something to watch out for next time. I don't really think you could say I was technically pregnant, since implantation didn't happen. It's nice to know the IUD works, I guess.

A Non-Hippie's Guide to Reusable Pads

Ok full disclosure, I guess the title isn't entirely accurate, since I was kind of a hippie in high school. And though I no longer wear a bathrobe as a coat, or that sick Janis Joplin t-shirt with the purple darts, and my hair is only moderately long and I no longer smell like "marijuana and salad" (actual friend's opinion on what I smelled like in high school), I do still just want everyone to love one another and, like, chill out. So I guess I'm not completely a non-hippie. But the point is, I am a reasonably together person with a real job and a bank account, and I am easily grossed out by shit hippies love, like, you know, reusing things, and dumpster diving etc.

The point is, I love reusable cloth menstrual pads. And if I, a lady who does not enjoy camping, can get into them, you can too. Here's how!

1. Figure out why you're doing this.
Just because if you do, you're more likely to stick with it. My own personal reason, as is often the case, was a sudden guilt attack related to the environment and over-consumption, etc. as well as my growing identity as some kind of feminist crusader who might need to be doing something suitably hippy-dippy regarding her period. Ok it doesn't seem like a great plan but I've been motivated by less. I recently allowed my hair to hang greasy and unwashed for eight weeks out of similar environment/consumption guilt, with less positive results. But the point is, having a reason (or reasons) that works for you will make it easier to stick it out.

2. Find out what works for you. 
I definitely had a disappointing and frankly guilt-inducing experience with the cup/keeper, chronicled here (yes, read not one but TWO internet articles about my vagina!). I think even if something seems pretty perfect for you on paper, it's hard to know how it's going to work out. Unfortunately, a lot of these alternatives are expensive to just buy and try them out if it turns out you won't like them. But do what you can - it might involve a lot of research and asking around as an alternative to buying a bunch of pads right away.

There's also a lot of different kinds of reusable pads - different designs, patterns, shapes, price points, etc. If it's within your budget to do so, I suggest buying a couple, maybe even from different vendors, to see what you like. A lot of vendors offer sample packs, which include an assortment of styles and sizes to help you figure out what you like. Also, don't be afraid to ask around - you might be surprised how many people are already using them and can give you recommendations.

3. Don't cheap out
I know, this is something that is easier said than done depending on your economic situation. However, if you can do it, buy good soft, thick pads from recommended sources. Don't just search Etsy and buy the cheapest thing. Trust me, I made that mistake. A thin pad is not a great companion; neither is one that doesn't secure properly and slips all over the place in your underwear. Reusable pads can be costly ($12-15 each generally), so a good strategy might be to buy one at a time as you can afford them, and slowly wean yourself off pads and tampons as you build up a full set.

4. Take care of them!
My first attempt at using reusable pads ended in disaster because I am extremely lazy. I was just throwing them in the laundry basket with my clothes, and so they got really stained and worn out and were no longer comfortable. Taking proper care of your pads will make them last way longer and be a lot more hygenic (and less smelly!). Most reusable pad companies offer care instructions, but in the absence of these what I recommend is designating a big bowl or tupperware for pads only (don't use it for anything else once you've picked one!) and putting used pads in there with cold water to soak until laundry day. I change the water each time I put a new pad in, and at the end of my period I wash the container.

5. Travelling
I don't know. If I have to travel while on my period I generally bring disposable pads and tampons because I just haven't found a way to travel with reusable pads. How/where would you soak them? What about washing them? Any tips?

That's all I got. There are lots of great reusable pads out there - I recommend Party in My Pants, which is what I currently use and they are super awesome.

Happy bleeding!

Adventures in DIY Gynaecology

Hey remember that time I got an IUD? What a nightmare, right? Well, I have to say, I don't regret my choice because for the last year and a half, the IUD has been wonderful. Super reliable, unobtrusive, way better than any other birth control I've used.

Until last week. Well, two weeks ago. My period came when expected, but lasted eleven days(!!!) and never got beyond very, very light spotting. It was weird. Afterwards I felt for the strings of my IUD, as I do after each period, and found them to be longer than usual. Possibly. It's hard to tell, you know? So I called the Bay Centre to see what they thought I should do, and they suggested I come in for a check up.

The check up was quick and painless, but revealed that the strings were four centimetres longer than they were at insertion. Not great. The doctor told me to make an appointment for an ultrasound to see where the IUD was sitting, and told me they would probably have to remove it. Bummer.

This was all on Saturday. I made my appointment for an ultrasound (they couldn't get me in until next Friday, the 10th) but all through Sunday I kept feeling the strings poking at me. I thought it was all in my head, but when I felt for them they were SUPER long, although I could not feel the device itself poking through. It will just fall out on its own, I thought.

It didn't. By Monday morning it was annoying me so much, I started to ask around about taking it out myself. I know this is NOT RECOMMENDED by doctors, but I found a lot of stories on the internet of women doing it and it seemed like not such a big deal. I am lucky to know a lot of doctors. Two of them told me, on the down low, that tugging it out myself was ok.

Here's how I did it (EXTREME TMI WARNING): I sat on the edge of my bed so my cervix would be low (I've read some people do it standing, in the shower, or with one leg up on the toilet, and some do it lying down. I fiddled around with a lot of options but this was the only one where I could get a grip on it). The strings were super slippery - I actually had (sterile) tweezers ready but couldn't find a way to grab the string with them without pinching myself in the twat. Eventually I managed to get my get my fingers far enough up to get a firm grip on the string, and then I just pulled, gently but consistently, until the whole damn thing came out into my hand. It took ten seconds, tops. And it didn't hurt - I didn't even feel it, really.

I had tiny cramps afterwards, and some spotting, but the next day it was all normal again.

The little bastard. Who wants to make jewellery out of it? Etsy?

I am trying to decide what to do next. I do want a new one put in, but I might wait until after my impending wedding because I don't want to be stressed about it falling out again until I have room in my life for that worry. And I am NOT looking forward to the ordeal of the insertion. I'll tell you one thing, if this one falls out, I am DONE with IUDs.

Ohh...the Personal IS Political!

Hi again friends. You'll be happy to know I am feeling much better today, and I actually kind of regret the decision to book the day off work, since I really could have been fine; not to mention I need the money. And I already took yesterday off - and called in sick on Tuesday because of a cold. Yeah, it hasn't really been my week.

Anyway, minimal cramping and bleeding, so that's good. I have received a lot of support and good wishes from the wonderful people in my life, which is very much appreciated. I also seem to have caught the confusingly ambivalent attention of Suzie Allcaps over at Big Blue Wave, so take that how you will. Thanks for the link love, Suzanne, and for pointing out that no, they in fact do not cover IUDs in sex ed. I wish they had. Just another reason we need comprehensive sex education, amirite?

I'm so glad I wrote about the experience right away, because even now it doesn't seem real. It couldn't have been THAT painful, right? It reminds me of my experience with tattoos: as soon as they start on it, I think, how could I have done this again?? It's HORRIBLE! (I told you I was a wimp). And I leave, and I think - I'm never doing this again. But now I think, there's a tattoo I really want...and it didn't hurt THAT much...I should get another one.

Yesterday I was ready to get up and walk out without the IUD if they would just stop, just take out the speculum and stop torturing me. But today I think, well, if it falls out, I'll be cool to get another one put in.

I'm an idiot.

Anyway, it hasn't fallen out (knock on wood).

The main thing I took away from this experience is that the personal truly is political. As soon as my partner came into the room, I said: "I'm not having babies." And I mean it. Ever. I knew that I didn't want to ever give birth, but this experience made it physically, viscerally real for me. I can. Not. Handle. The. Pain. I just can't. I am a soft soft lady, inside and out, and I'm ok with that. I have absolutely no interest in pushing a human being out of myself.

And the fact that there are people who don't want women to have that choice is so much more frightening to me today than it was on Wednesday. I don't know what childbirth is like, but if it's anything close to the pain I experienced yesterday (and I think it's probably worse), the thought of women having to do that without being 100%, totally, enthusiastically on board is sickening. I mean really. What. The. Fuck.

I have a lot of other thoughts, and they're coming soon, but that was the one that really stuck with me once the whole thing was over. And the commenters over at BBW can make all the smug judgments about my choices that they want, but I promise I am 100% more put off by their desire to control what goes on in the bodies of strangers than they are by my "potty mouth". Fuck you, fuck your oppressive, anti-woman bullshit you piece of shit fascist dickwads. How's that for potty mouth?

Seriously though, thanks for the support you guys.

IUD Insertion: My Garbage Nightmare Afternoon

Buckle up kids, this is going to be a long and bumpy ride.

So, without getting into the long and sordid history of my rocky relationship with hormonal birth control, let me just say that I was ready to go in a different direction with my efforts to escape pregnancy. After a lot of research and thought (hard to avoid in my line of work, honestly) I decided to get an IUD.

I wanted to blog this experience so that other women would have an idea of what to expect - even though people are likely to have a variety of different experiences, it can be reassuring to have some warning about what will happen. However, unfortunately because of my fucked up lady parts my experience was not super normal. So...I'm just blogging because I want to. And maybe also so you know how bad it can be.

[Trigger warning for medical procedure description, vaginal discomfort]

I went in a couple weeks ago for a preliminary consultation and a pap test. I tested negative for all the bad stuff, but I did have a case of bacterial vaginosis that went away with a course of antibiotics. No biggie. The pap test was notable because before it started, the doctor asked me if I was uncomfortable having a pap or had ever had any traumatic experiences that would make the pap difficult for me. I thought that was awesome.

In fact, throughout both appointments, the medical staff were all wonderful - totally professional, and really caring and attentive. If you live in Toronto, I highly recommend the Bay Centre for Birth Control.

Anyway. Today I went back to get the IUD inserted. There were two options in copper IUDs, and I chose the one that lasts five years (as opposed to two) even though it is the more difficult of the two to insert. I'm really glad I did, too, because the thought of doing this again in two years makes me want to die.

I had a doctor and a midwifery student, both women. They were both lovely and friendly people. The doc did a quick exam first - lubed finger, speculum, you know how it goes. She was a bit confused because the doctor from the first appointment had determined that my uterus was retroverted, and she felt like it maybe wasn't. After some poking around, the doc and the student came to the conclusion that it was in fact retroverted, but also tilted to a weird angle. So she told me it might be a little difficult to get the IUD in. Ok!

Difficult. Well.

First came the speculum, of course. I generally find it a little uncomfortable but honestly, not too bad. After that came some sort of measuring device that turned everything around it into cramping, like some horrible magic wand of...horror. I could FEEL the cramping moving up my body. It was horrific. I can't really describe the pain of it - it's not sharp or dull or anything I really have words for. It doesn't seem like it should be so bad - after all, in the end it is just cramps - but I found the inability to DO anything was the worst. I couldn't curl into a fetal position or barf or whatever I would do if I had cramps like that and wasn't laying on my back in an examining room.

I wish I could explain how bad it felt, and how low my pain threshold is. It was seriously the worst I have ever physically felt in my admittedly sheltered life.

So they were having some difficulty getting the IUD in, at which point the doctor decided to use some kind of instrument that would keep my cervix out of the way (?). It felt like something was pinching my cervix. I thought that would be horrible, but I was concentrating so much on the never-ending cramps that I could barely even feel it.

It was at this point that I first considered telling them to stop. I thought about just continuing to use condoms, that this could not possibly be worth it. But then the doctor told me that they could try a different (bigger?) speculum. So she took everything out and left to get it.

I could close my legs for a few minutes, and that felt amazing. I was still cramping a lot but the option to move, to sit up, and the absence of the jumble of metal up my vag felt so awesome, I didn't care. I foolishly, optimistically thought that once the bigger speculum went in, it would all be a piece of cake. When the doctor came back, I opened my legs, if cautiously, at least still willingly.

The bigger speculum was certainly less comfortable! And then the horrible magic wand went in again. Thus followed I don't even know how many minutes of poking, prodding, and the worst cramping that could possibly exist. I mean, I know I'm a big wimp, but how was my uterus not exploding? Both the doc and the student were very attentive, but every time they asked how I was doing all I could come up with was a vaguely optimistic groan. Not awesome. I seriously thought, once again, about calling the whole thing off. My legs were shaking so much I was surprised they could even get anything done. I was in shock, but not enough that it didn't hurt like hell.

The problem was not just the tilt of my uterus, but also the fact that I apparently have a long vaginal canal, so my cervix is hard to get to. The one time the doc managed to get the IUD even remotely close to where it was supposed to go, it started sliding out again. Finally, she said "if I don't get it in in the next minute, I will get another doctor."

Oh great!

Once they had determined that it wasn't going in, both of them went to get another doctor. They left the speculum in, on the understanding that if they were going to be gone more than a couple minutes, they would come back and take it out. Honestly it probably wasn't even that long, but lying there alone with the speculum still in, I started to panic. What if they forgot about me? And of course, this entire time I was cramping like crazy. I wished I had asked for my partner to be there with me. I thought it would be unnecessarily difficult to have him there seeing me in pain, but at that moment I wish he had been (in the end, I'm glad he wasn't. It was easier to disassociate myself from the pain without him present).

They didn't forget me. They came back with another doctor, who was chipper and hilarious and a little bit cynical. I liked her a lot. She assessed the situation quickly and determined that I did, in fact, have an anteverted uterus. Aha! I thought. Problem solved! Let's get that thing in there!

So we went to it again. I was struggling to stick with my deep breathing, and at this point my lady parts had taken such a beating it didn't seem to matter that the new doctor was quick but gentle. They just hurt. It hurt more because it was so...inescapable. I had come too far to stop. It would waste everyone's time if I decided, at this point, to bail.

The uterus issue might have been cleared up, but unfortunately the inaccessibility of my cervix was still causing a problem. Once again, the cervix-pinching instrument, then the magic wand of doom. My legs and butt were positively vibrating with shock. I thought I would probably pass out, and I was actually wondering if they would continue if I did. Maybe the student could hold my legs open. Maybe it would be better that way. Every second I didn't think I could endure more pain, but then I did, and then the second after that I did again. It was awful. Seriously, the worst thing I've ever been through. I don't want to scare people, so just bear in mind - my experience was not typical.

At one point the doctor told me to put my bum down, and there would be less pressure. And I did, and she was right - as soon as I relaxed my butt and it touched the paper (I wasn't even aware it was raised), I felt a tiny bit better. But then I would forget and all my muscles would clench and it would start all over again.

Finally, after a million years, it was in. They cut the strings, and removed all their devices, including the big speculum which felt AWFUL coming out. I breathed. I even sat up a little, although I was totally dizzy. The three women were cautiously optimistic, and they told me they needed to do an ultrasound to check and make sure the IUD was sitting properly and wouldn't slide out.

The first doctor went to look into the ultrasound situation, the student went to get me some pain meds and water (I would have pulled out the IUD and stabbed a kitten with it for a glass of water at that point), and the second doctor let me touch the cut-off IUD string (it felt like fishing wire) and explained to me how to check for it in my vagina. I asked her if she could get my partner. She went to get him. I sat up, and I cried and cried.

***

When my partner came in, and the student brought back the water (OMG it was amazing) and the ibuprofen, I felt better. My legs were shaking and I was pale, and the cramping was still worse than I have ever had during a period, but the ability to close my legs was just about the greatest.

Once I was steady, I went with my partner and the student to the ultrasound room. The ultrasound tech explained the probe to me (it was a transvaginal ultrasound) and asked if I had questions or concerns. I didn't. The ultrasound was not too bad for me - they just put the tip of the probe in, and after everything that already happened, it was the least uncomfortable thing that had happened. Sometimes the tech moved the probe down or to the side and it triggered the cramps, but at least I had a hand to squeeze. My partner and I both commented later on the oddness of the tableau: him holding my hand while I was ultrasounded, as if we were expecting a baby instead of having the anti-baby stuffed INTO my womb. Kind of awesome.

After what seemed like the longest ultrasound ever performed, it was determined that the IUD was in place. Thank goodness, because I don't think I would have wanted them to try again if it wasn't.

After putting my pants back on, and a brief consultation regarding aftercare with the student, we were free to go. We went to get sushi at Aji Sai, and we walked there - the fresh air was really good. All you can eat sushi (and cheese wontons!) was also very good. And I might marry that Diet Coke I drank.

Right now I'm feeling ok - still cramping but ok. I will update again, probably tomorrow, with my thoughts and impressions. All told, my partner estimates that I spent an hour and a half in the exam room before he came in. AN HOUR AND A HALF with a speculum in me - not great, friends. I was kind of expecting about ten minutes. Sad face.

For now, I am doing well and I want to thank my friends for their good wishes and encouragement, and the staff at BCBC for how fucking awesome they are. And especially my loving, supportive partner who took a half day off work, split the cost of the IUD, and most importantly, was totally 100% there for me when I needed him.

More to come.

A Short One

Yesterday's clinic started out wonderfully; the protesters were not there for the majority of the morning, and the change in atmosphere was palpable. No one came in crying, everyone was a lot less tense, which makes the staff less tense, which makes everything pretty awesome.

Of course, they did show up eventually. Pink Hat was no longer wearing her pink hat! It wasn't a particularly warm day so I can't imagine why she didn't feel the need to wear it. What a pity.

Meanwhile, I'm going in today to meet with a woman from the CBC who wants to talk to me about my morning after pill project. Speaking of media, I wonder if you caught me on the radio talking about the Morgentaler appeal decision? If not, you can read the article here.

The email campaign asking Mike Murphy to resign is going very well; lots of people have contacted him. Now it's all just a waiting game to see if the province decides to go to the Supreme Court. Things are brewing though; the next few months are going to be exciting (I hope!).

Know Your Plan B

I know, I usually blog earlier in the week. I don't know, sometimes someone just needs to come light a fire under my ass about it.

Tuesday's clinic was a gong show outside, as is the norm these days. Pink Hat was agressive and awful, and the others were their usual zombie selves. It being National Volunteer Appreciation Week, I made cupcakes for my lovely volunteers. A few of them are leaving now that school is done, which is sad.

Yesterday I started on a project to find out what the availability and accessibility of Plan B is like in various pharmacies throughout the province. I've called all the pharmacies in Fredericton so far (there are over thirty, which I never would have guessed) and the price ranges from $20 to $40. Also, even though it's supposed to be available on the shelf, the majority of places still keep it behind the counter, so you have to ask for it; at some pharmacies, you have to have a "consultation" with a pharmacist before they will let you buy it.

So that was pretty unimpressive. I'm going to work through some of the other areas of the province, and then eventually we'll be able to put this info together for women who come to the clinic.

Last night I went to see Rev. Dr. Brent Hawkes speak at the law school. He is an awesome gay rights activist (and Order of Canada recipient), and his speech was really fucking amazing. I just cried and cried through the whole thing. We ran into him afterwards at a bar downtown and he sat and chatted with us; he is a really cool guy. They followed up his talk with a presentation on the legal history of gay rights in Canada by Dr. Karen Pearlston, who is a kickass local activist/prof. It was a good night.

Thanks to everyone who voted for me in the F-Word blog awards. I made it through the elimination round in the Reproductive Liberties category, so please vote in the final round, which starts on the 18th at midnight and finishes on the 19th at midnight. Thanks friends!! Here are the other finalists if you are interested.

Madness

I have to say, I'm glad that people liked the last post and that it got some really good responses. That's why I left it up for so long (also, I'm lazy).

This week at the clinic we had a new fellow out. He was handing out some sort of flyer to the other protesters, and was quite vocal. When the doctor was coming in, he told her he hoped her hands would shake. Charming.

It was kind of a crazy day at the clinic - no particular reason, just one of those days when there's an extra buzz in the air. I had two patients who, along with their entourages of friends and family members, decided they would rather stand around in the vestibule than sit in the waiting room. It was a big pain in the ass, not to mention kind of a safety hazzard (I had to ask them repeatedly to stop standing in front of my little window, because I couldn't see who was at the door). It made me antsy, it made the patients coming in antsy, and it was just an all around nuisance. I probably have to learn to be more assertive - I asked them several times if they'd like to come into the waiting room, but I was being too polite. I need to take some lessons from the nurses and just tell people what to do.

Don't forget that this weekend is the Pill Kills campaign - I know you're all so excited! I don't know if there's any official protests planned for Canada, so maybe you'll just have to travel down to the States to witness the madness. It'll be worth it, I promise - I know you all want one of those super sexy lime green t-shirts.