Those days when you do the very last thing you want to do, and it turns out to spin you a new direction. Those days when you don't put off the thing that needs doing, and it introduces you to a game-changer friend. Those days when you return a phone call that goes unnoticed in your messages for days and turns into a first date. Those days when it's completely inefficient or unessential to go get fresh ground peanut butter instead of stay in reading on a gray vacation morning, but then you go and you happen to meet a new source of happiness.
These things have happened to me on several notable occasions.
Once I turned down a street thinking, "Why not, I haven't driven home this way before," and I found my favorite letterpress print shop (Bartleby's Letterpress Emporium, now closed), at which I eventually purchased a most glorious broadside with all the right words on it.
Once when I coerced my daughter through the rain to a square dance she really did not want to go to, I bumped into an old friend from high school I had lost complete track of and really wondered about.
Once I called someone back that I didn't really know and didn't get my number from me and it spun out all kinds of pleasure.
Once I went to the grocery store for nut butter and water filters because my daughter really wanted to and passed by the volunteer shoppers filling carts from lists of people who can't do their own shopping, and my daughter really wanted to try it out.
So we asked about it. We got a crash course training, and we did it.
And that's how we became volunteer grocery shoppers. But we never would have been walking past a small army of slowly filling grocery carts at the grocery store on a weekday morning if we hadn't just done it. If I hadn't opted to aim for a bright spot of contentment and go to the grocery store for a few things that were not on the list, not urgently needed, and not my high priorities for the morning. And doing that brightened my daughter irrevocably.
We never really know when the people we meet or the places we venture are making memories that stick or planting actions with purpose or generating a chain reaction of smiles. Yet we never will know without just doing it.
Wednesday, March 25, 2015
Saturday, March 21, 2015
Tuesday, March 17, 2015
HPV for the Dinner Table
Thank you for reading on.
Human papillomavirus is a group of more than 120 different viruses that are primarily sexually transmitted. Which means that any sexually active person can (and statistically does) get one or more in their lifetime. For the most part, these viruses go away on their own. Yet for such a strikingly omnipresent virus, the population is woefully uninformed about its reach. There are 13 serious types of HPV that have been shown to cause cervical cancer. Two of them cause 70% of all cases of cervical cancer: HPV types 16 & 18. They don't go away on their own.
Guess which ones I got.
Everything is going to be fine. There's plenty of protocol for cutting and scraping and biopsy to manage their presence and their pre-cancerous states.
I feel lucky. I happen to have health care and routine screening detected them. But lesions manifest in stages without rhyme or reason and progress at their own rates, so time is a real wild card with HPV.
Yet here's the thing: I'm pretty sure my experience was far from unique and it really makes me grumpy. When I landed in the arena of HPV information overload, I did what I presume any angry, partner-less gal would do - I went for inquiry and edification. When something unexpected and infuriating happens to me, I need information. And I need to spread it around. It wasn't fun, but my coping mechanism included contacting past partners. There is absolutely no protocol for this, because unlike most sexually transmitted diseases, HPV is a sexually transmitted viral infection which most often goes away on its own, and male partners are very unlikely to have symptoms of HPV. On top of that, there is no standard screening technology for HPV in men. They can pass it along and be none the wiser. Think about it - for men to give it, they have to get it. While it is not likely that contacting past partners is going to identify who had what and when (because HPV is slow to show itself), that's no excuse at all for men and women alike not to know a thing or two about it.
I will admit, I was really hoping one of these guys would say, "Why yes, I knew my ex/partner/fling had HPV. I should have thought to tell you that." No such luck. I was angry, emotionally impaired, and suffering inconvenient and invasive procedures. I really wanted men in particular to care. I communicated with half a dozen men between the ages of 35 and 55 including some past partners, and not a single one really knew much about HPV. They certainly didn't get how they had a stake in the game. And this bothered me a lot. Half of those 6 are fathers of daughters. And the way I see it, if you're having sex or parenting a child who will have sex, you oughta know your stuff. Half of the women I talked to had some experience with HPV. Half did not.
Ladies, we are in trouble when our own men can't share the cocktail party conversation about the inconvenience of this scourge. It affects everyone. It's also preventable, which is what the HPV vaccination campaign for all children aged 11 & 12 years old is about. I'm not crazy about the way this campaign is being conducted and tested on our kids, but I 100% appreciate the idea that it's a vehicle to get a transparent conversation going about this onerous infection, and that the burden to making a change is shared between the sexes.
HPV can be talked about at every dinner table. It's that commonly experienced, it's that relevant.
Sadly, I feel that I lost at least one friend bringing the conversation around, and I certainly didn't come out ahead or appreciated bringing it to attention of another. I stand by edification. Serve it!
Human papillomavirus is a group of more than 120 different viruses that are primarily sexually transmitted. Which means that any sexually active person can (and statistically does) get one or more in their lifetime. For the most part, these viruses go away on their own. Yet for such a strikingly omnipresent virus, the population is woefully uninformed about its reach. There are 13 serious types of HPV that have been shown to cause cervical cancer. Two of them cause 70% of all cases of cervical cancer: HPV types 16 & 18. They don't go away on their own.
Guess which ones I got.
Everything is going to be fine. There's plenty of protocol for cutting and scraping and biopsy to manage their presence and their pre-cancerous states.
I feel lucky. I happen to have health care and routine screening detected them. But lesions manifest in stages without rhyme or reason and progress at their own rates, so time is a real wild card with HPV.
Yet here's the thing: I'm pretty sure my experience was far from unique and it really makes me grumpy. When I landed in the arena of HPV information overload, I did what I presume any angry, partner-less gal would do - I went for inquiry and edification. When something unexpected and infuriating happens to me, I need information. And I need to spread it around. It wasn't fun, but my coping mechanism included contacting past partners. There is absolutely no protocol for this, because unlike most sexually transmitted diseases, HPV is a sexually transmitted viral infection which most often goes away on its own, and male partners are very unlikely to have symptoms of HPV. On top of that, there is no standard screening technology for HPV in men. They can pass it along and be none the wiser. Think about it - for men to give it, they have to get it. While it is not likely that contacting past partners is going to identify who had what and when (because HPV is slow to show itself), that's no excuse at all for men and women alike not to know a thing or two about it.
I will admit, I was really hoping one of these guys would say, "Why yes, I knew my ex/partner/fling had HPV. I should have thought to tell you that." No such luck. I was angry, emotionally impaired, and suffering inconvenient and invasive procedures. I really wanted men in particular to care. I communicated with half a dozen men between the ages of 35 and 55 including some past partners, and not a single one really knew much about HPV. They certainly didn't get how they had a stake in the game. And this bothered me a lot. Half of those 6 are fathers of daughters. And the way I see it, if you're having sex or parenting a child who will have sex, you oughta know your stuff. Half of the women I talked to had some experience with HPV. Half did not.
Ladies, we are in trouble when our own men can't share the cocktail party conversation about the inconvenience of this scourge. It affects everyone. It's also preventable, which is what the HPV vaccination campaign for all children aged 11 & 12 years old is about. I'm not crazy about the way this campaign is being conducted and tested on our kids, but I 100% appreciate the idea that it's a vehicle to get a transparent conversation going about this onerous infection, and that the burden to making a change is shared between the sexes.
HPV can be talked about at every dinner table. It's that commonly experienced, it's that relevant.
Sadly, I feel that I lost at least one friend bringing the conversation around, and I certainly didn't come out ahead or appreciated bringing it to attention of another. I stand by edification. Serve it!
Tuesday, March 10, 2015
I Pay for Piano Lessons the Way Some People Pay for Haircuts
It's true.
I pay for piano lessons the way some people pay for haircuts
Monthly.
I pay for haircuts the way some people pay for vacations.
Yearly. Maybe.
I pay for vacations the way people pay for weddings.
Haphazardly.
And Always.
Many years ago (15), I dabbled in the wedding industry. I sewed a wedding dress as well as a few separate bridal party ensembles. The dress was a chore. It was pure silk; the bodice required challenging modification and the skirt and underskirts involved so much yardage of tulle I developed a very tangible appreciation for all-purpose petticoats. Everything was mocked up in muslin, multiple times. The bridal party skirts and dresses were the same - maiden voyages in dupioni and chiffon and organza and french seams. Not to mention ripped out seams, fittings, and frustrations galore. I faked it and made it, and realized I could charge all the more on the merit of the W word. I struggled a bit with the good fortune that came with the earning power of the W. Ultimately I decided I wasn't (and didn't want to be) a skilled enough seamstress to take on the ultimate challenges of wedding couture. There are plenty of other people to take on that madness. Always.
Vacation is defined loosely in my lexicon - a week, a day, an evening, an out of the ordinary submission to some time without a high responsibility factor to others. And often, my vacation space comes as a gift from others. But I pay (with time and/or money) for vacations the way people pay for weddings:
Haphazardly - because it's the only way I can.
And Always - because the investment in a little break from the ordinary does one well.
I pay for piano lessons the way some people pay for haircuts
Monthly.
I pay for haircuts the way some people pay for vacations.
Yearly. Maybe.
I pay for vacations the way people pay for weddings.
Haphazardly.
And Always.
Many years ago (15), I dabbled in the wedding industry. I sewed a wedding dress as well as a few separate bridal party ensembles. The dress was a chore. It was pure silk; the bodice required challenging modification and the skirt and underskirts involved so much yardage of tulle I developed a very tangible appreciation for all-purpose petticoats. Everything was mocked up in muslin, multiple times. The bridal party skirts and dresses were the same - maiden voyages in dupioni and chiffon and organza and french seams. Not to mention ripped out seams, fittings, and frustrations galore. I faked it and made it, and realized I could charge all the more on the merit of the W word. I struggled a bit with the good fortune that came with the earning power of the W. Ultimately I decided I wasn't (and didn't want to be) a skilled enough seamstress to take on the ultimate challenges of wedding couture. There are plenty of other people to take on that madness. Always.
Vacation is defined loosely in my lexicon - a week, a day, an evening, an out of the ordinary submission to some time without a high responsibility factor to others. And often, my vacation space comes as a gift from others. But I pay (with time and/or money) for vacations the way people pay for weddings:
Haphazardly - because it's the only way I can.
And Always - because the investment in a little break from the ordinary does one well.
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