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The war on women

~E~ You know, it's often these little things that go unnoticed that snowball into making life dangerous for certain groups of people. In this case, it's women. Apparently some doctors in Canada are refusing to provide pap smears to unmarried women, presumably because if you aren't married, you should not be having sex, and so would not contract a sexually transmitted disease which might ultimately lead to cervical cancer. Ergo, if you ARE having sex, you deserve to die (if you are female; no word on if unmarried men are denied testing and treatment for STDs). You must suffer the consequences, much like the belief that if you have sex, you should not be allowed birth control or abortion because everyone has to pay the price for HER behavior - pregnancy. (link) I contacted Peggy to learn more about what was going on with the doctors refusing to perform pap smears and she responded by saying that in one case it is actually the doctor's receptionist who won't allow he...
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Red Haired Mary

Red Haired Mary is my mom. I couldn't have asked for a better one, frankly. I like to call her momster. She was always the most comforting person in my life, even when she was too frazzled to protect me from the torture my sister inflicted on me. I clearly remember her hollering from the other room for us to knock it off!! as though I was equally responsible for being pinned down and tickled. She took me to my first and only Badger football game, and I think she was thrilled that we had a day together filled with such excitement. We snuggled on the couch under blankets together in those cold dark f-f-freezing days of winter. My first clear memory of her -- I'm five years old. She's sitting on a chair where I try to squeeze in next to her. She says, in a strained voice, "No, honey, you can't sit with me right now." Then my dad took her to the hospital where she birthed my little brother. I suppose labor pains are as good an excuse as any to have your chair t...
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My Pop

My dad died on December 12, 2005. His health had been declining slowly for a few years, but that summer he started going fast. He got weaker, shakier. By October, he would have these weird moments where he just wasn't dad. They became more frequent, and many nights after visiting my parents, I went home and cried. This was not my father. On Thanksgiving, my very frail dad sat at a chair in the living room and was served on a tv tray. His appetite had been very poor but he ate well that night. Someone had made a chocolate cream pie, which got eaten up pretty quickly. He saw someone walk by with a piece and said, like a five-year-old would, "I didn't get a piece of that!" I still feel bad about that. He had a mild heart attack before Thanksgiving. Shortly after Thanksgiving, he went into the hospital again but no one was quite sure what was wrong. The moments of him as "not-dad" became more frequent. The hospital staff wanted someone with him at all times so...
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