So much for one major religion, then.

Examine your prejudices.

So I guess I can't be Catholic. The Vatican recently released "On the Dignity of Persons"--in Latin, of course, to make it sound cooler--in which Cardinal Ratzinger (he'll always be Cardinal Ratzinger to me, because it sounds so much more appropriate than Pope Benedict...which just sounds like a sacreligious breakfast dish) decried stem cell research and the morning-after pill as the harbingers of the end times. Well, not exactly, but he called them both mortal sins, ie Very Bad Things.

Here's the thing. The morning after pill prevents implantation of the (potential) embryo, which at that point is (if anything) a collection of several cells--like, literally less than 100. (See, Dr. C, I paid attention during your embryology lectures!) It doesn't kill it. It keeps it from glomming onto the uterus, which is what happens more than 50% of the time anyway. It isn't abortion (which I'm also not saying is wrong...but that's a whole 'nother kettle of fish), so even if you're opposed to abortion, you don't have to be against the morning-after pill.

I honestly think every woman who's begun to menstruate should have the morning-after pill, or a prescription for it, in her medicine cabinet (well, actually in her dresser drawer, since the temperature fluctuations and humidity in the bathroom could screw with the drug). Am I saying everyone should be out not using contraception? C'mon now, don't you know me better than that? Sometimes contraceptive methods fail. Sometimes the condom breaks. Sometimes you realize the next morning that, yeah, you were both really drunk and didn't use one, and after saying a few mea culpas and vowing never to be that irresponsible again, you need something else to do. In short, life happens, ergo shit happens.

But (hold on while I get out my soapbox...) EVEN IF you're one of those who thinks heathen young women having sex out of wedlock should have to "face the consequences" of their actions (yes, person purportedly so concerned about an unborn child's wellbeing, let's think of the kid as a 'consequence' rather than a person--do you not see the intrinsic cognitive dissonance there? And let's not even get me started about the heathen young men who get off scot-free, morally speaking, because boys will be boys...) those aren't the only people who use the morning after pill. Here I will insert a

**Self-disclosure alert**

I have used the morning-after pill. If I were ever in the same situation again, I would use it again without hesitation, even knowing the side effects (it made me so nauseous I had to go get another prescription to replace the one I'd urped up, as well as a few hits of promethazine--ie Phenergan, an antiemetic that had the nice fringe benefit of making me tired enough not to care if I was feeling vomitous). I was raped my freshman year of college. September of my freshman year of college. The only thing that could have made it a more fantastic start to my academic career? If I had gotten pregnant. I realize most people dismiss this as The Extreme Example, but honestly it's not as rare as you'd think; 25% of college-age women experience rape or attempted rape at some point during their schooling.

If my God/Divinity/Ultimate Reality required a young woman to carry her rapist's baby, I would look for another one. Or maybe I'd talk to Her directly and see what She had to say, rather than getting it secondhand from a lifelong-celibate male (ahem).

Fears and Vindication

Finals are upon us. A time of trepidation, of fear, but also of vindication.
The holidays are also upon us; likewise, a time of mingled despair and delight.

What am I afraid of? Unreasonably afraid of?
I am afraid of failure, but more than that I am afraid of mediocrity.
Less existentially, I am afraid of food poisoning--I've only had it once, but it left a lasting impression. Salmonella and e. coli especially.
I am afraid of never finding "the One"--the person to spend the rest of my life with.
I am afraid of flying.
Spiders.
Failing medical school and having to live in a box under a bridge.
That I will never be truly happy, because I'll never really know what that even looks like.
That everyone else knows what they're doing, and I somehow missed picking up the secret instruction book that the rest of the world is reading from.
Cancer.

What am I proud of, vindicated about?
That two of my finals are over, and I passed them.
That I've survived this long in one piece (it's been a bigger task than you might think).
That I'm blogging again.
That for the most part I manage to prevent myself from indulging in sophomoric navel-gazing like this.

What about you?