Of Ova

Though not my own ova. Mostly. At least not in detail. So, not-too-personal reading ahead.

Recently, I "won" a spot with a family practice doctor and had a physical. It was routine -- all except for the "don't have to talk to the people at the desk at the end" part. No payment or copayment or negotiation about whether they bill the insurance first. (They did look at my insurance card, which has a picture that is an unfortunately accurate representation of what I look like when I'm sick. If I'd known the card would have a photo, I'd have worn some makeup when I got it. Sheesh.)

After the physical, the physician also thrust into my hands a publication. This is also pretty routine, for me. I like to see what the physicians get before someone else rewrites it to make it suitable for the public. Partly it's ego (I'm as smart as a doctor) and partly it's professional development, since explaining technical things to non-technical people is one of the things I do for pay.

This publication, called "Think Ovarian!" (I could NOT make this stuff up) is actually quite interesting. It's about ovarian cancer, how difficult it is to diagnose because of its non-specific symptoms, and the familial factors involved.

I also learned that I have a condition--nulliparity--that I wasn't aware was considered a condition.

Nulliparity, according to various blended dictionary definitions, is a medical term that refers to a condition in which a woman has never given birth or been pregnant.

I would have called this condition "normal," because for me, it is. I have suffered from this condition all my life, and I will in fact suffer from it until I die. However, this is yet another way in which I am not normal and am apparently more prone to develop ovarian cancer.

I do understand that medical conditions are sometimes defined merely to describe states of being. For example, if there's a medical condition that describes the state of never having broken a bone, I also have that condition. But being categorized is still a little unnerving.

And here's another thing. Back when I had employers other than myself, the employers had Employee Handbooks. Each handbook covered pregnancy. One handbook said it this bluntly: "Pregnancy is like any other illness." Hmmm. Pregnancy = illness.

The handbook meant, of course, that people who are pregnant take sick time when they need to miss work for reasons related to pregnancy. But that's not really what it said. Which demonstrates the importance of clear communication and good communicators, to put in a plug for my profession. Connotations are important.

And now, back to the ova, I remind myself that all decisions carry risks -- becoming pregnant and having children bring their fair share -- and I'm fine with the decisions I've made.

But I'm still left with this: Pregnancy is an illness, and never being pregnant is a medical condition.

Is it any wonder so many women feel hounded about the whole motherhood thing? Whatever you decide, you're labelled. Is there a similar medically described-whichever-way-you-go decision for men? I'm guessing not.

As Jian Ghomeshi is (too often) wont to say, to be continued. I have a mammogram in a few weeks and will likely need to wonder aloud whether men would put up with a similarly cold and squashy diagnostic tool for prostate cancer. (Again: I'm guessing not.)

New Traditions?

It's American Thanksgiving and, according to my usual tradition, I'm feeling ambivalent about it.

People up here like to ask whether I'm celebrating Thanksgiving -- it's their way of participating in my culture and quite sweet, actually. People south of the border are curious, too -- perhaps imagining a group of miserable ex-pats huddled together around a sad excuse for a turkey dinner.

The thing is, Thanksgiving for me is one of those family holidays that carries a lot of baggage, and it's not the cute kind of baggage with a rolly bag and matching carry-on.

For one thing, the holiday really was always about food. And, I guess, the treat of a few days off from school (for all of us -- professors enjoy a break, too).

In our family, Thanksgiving also kicked off the Christmas holiday -- we were allowed to listen to Christmas music starting on Thanksgiving. Sometimes a few decorations appeared that long weekend as well. The Christmas tree itself had to wait till my father's birthday (and the end of the semester) on December 21.

But other than that, and tearing up the white bread for stuffing in front of the Macy's Thanksgiving Day Parade, we didn't have a lot of Thanksgiving traditions.

In fact, as the youngest sibling in my family, I experienced ambivalent Thanksgivings at a younger age than others -- at, say, 10. Older siblings worked on holidays and thus weren't available. Some sibs married, which started the pushme-pullyou of compromise and split traditions: Thanksgiving with one family, Christmas with the other.

Or worse, Thanksgiving with the parents and siblings of the in-law
-- strangers we must pretend are now "family." Then I married a time or two, and started a long string of holidays with people of varying degrees of relation, some of whom don't agree that "enough" mashed potatoes is a vat full, with a gallon of gravy beside. Get this: some people use instant mashed potatoes and store-bought gravy. Seriously.

And don't get me started on the rutabagas (known as "turnips" up here) -- a tradition in my family from the Canadian side, tolerated politely, ignored, or scorned by nearly every group I've had to spend Thanksgiving with.

I've found some logical reasons to feel ambivalent about Thanksgiving as well. Setting aside the cultural myths (that leave out the smallpox in the blankets), Thanksgiving is a holiday of consumption -- Thursday's big dinner at some negotiated point in the day, followed by sandwiches and a football-induced oblivion on the couch, and then Friday's forays into consumer goods and bargains. The opening salvo in the Christmas holiday, which has become an orgy of buying that passes for a celebration of hope and giving in the darkness. Et cetera.

Of course, I have had nice Thanksgiving holidays. Last year in the States was lovely -- I was with a brother's family. I was thrilled to be part of their small group and enjoyed myself immensely.

Maybe that positive experience has sown some seeds that are bearing fruit. This year, I find myself a little less judgmental, a little less dour about Thanksgiving. A friend asked on Sunday if I was planning something special for the day. As usual, I said "No," but then thought, "Why not?"

So I am. Nothing much -- a home-cooked dinner, which I'm proud to say that isn't all that unusual. The only real fancy bit, and even this isn't THAT fancy, is a blueberry cobbler for dessert, made with local berries I froze last August.

I'm listening to Christmas music, too, though to be honest I started earlier in the week (Messiah, because I am lowbrow in my classical music taste, and Soulful Messiah, because of the genius of Quincy's overture and Hallelujah Chorus). Today, I have also broken out Holly Cole's Christmas CD and look forward to Barenaked at the Holidays and whatever else I find in my iPod.

Canadian Christmas music on American Thanksgiving. Blueberry cobbler. A little less cynicism, a litte less judgment, and a lot more gratitude.

These are good traditions to start. And may they continue through the rest of 2009.

A Very Good Place to Start

In part because November seems to be Literary Award Month in Canada, book clubs or book groups have been on my mind lately. In the U.S., it seemed that they were known more as book "groups"--because "club" sounds too formal and exclusive, perhaps? Who knows. I've also heard them called "reading groups."

Here, they seem to be, unselfconsciously, book "clubs."

In any case, selecting books to read and discuss with a group of people is always a process fraught with conditions and clarifications and definitions. Someone wants to read "classics," meaning Middlemarch, not Euripides. Someone wants a theme for the year--war, for one depressing example.

Some insist on reading best-sellers or a celebrity's selections. Nothing wrong with that--but why do that in a group? They may be interesting or entertaining but you probably don't need a group discussion to gain a full understanding of the book.

To counteract the "there's not much to discuss about this book" syndrome, some clubs choose from award-winning books--for example, those that win National Book Awards or the UK's Man Booker prize. The idea is that these books are notable in some way beyond catching a celebrity's eye.

And in that vein, here are another couple of good resources for interesting books that are worth reading in a group: the sites for two major Canadian literary awards.

The Scotiabank Giller Prize is an award for fiction. The players are different every year, the jury is different every year, and the results are always interesting.

The Governor General's Literary Awards, presented by the Canada Council for the Arts, have lots of categories in both languages. Children's books can win either for illustration or for text, and this year the winner is the same in both categories--in English. Because yes, there are awards for writing in French, too.

Just call it "resource week" here at Half-Canadian: linking you to information you never thought to ask for!

A Good Beginning

What the heck is going on in Afghanistan these days? Are Canadian forces "coming home" in 2011 or not? What does "coming home" mean, anyway?

Enough with the questions. Here's a new site to help give Canadians, and anyone else who looks, a chance to learn more about Afghanistan and what Canada's forces are doing there: Learn the Facts: Afghanistan.

It's a new site, just finding its feet, its experts, its content. It wants to "provide objective information from credible sources in a clear, deliverable way." It was founded and is managed by two civilian students at the Royal Military College of Canada.

The site may not now be, and won't be, perfect. However, the idea -- providing a place for learning and discussion, when media coverage is superficial and driven by politics -- is excellent.

One hears a lot of claims about "new media." But if this site, like Factcheck.org (also not perfect but better than nothing), is an example of "new media," I'm all for it.

What's Up with the Yanks?

No, this has nothing to do with baseball. Not those Yankees. I'm talking about the rest of them--all 300 million who live in that big country south of here.

Here's something I never thought I'd say: I miss watching Regis and Kelly.

Now I have to back-pedal. The show used to come on after Canada AM, at 9 a.m. On occasion, I slept late and could still find myself sitting dazed on the couch downing coffee at 9, and I would watch their morning "host chat."

I never watched the show when I lived in the U.S.--I didn't need to. However, now that I'm in this "whole other country," I found Regis and Kelly to be a really useful way to keep up with popular culture in the U.S.

Sure, I could find other ways to find out what's on the mind of the Average American. But what else popped into my living room conveniently at 9 a.m. for 15 minutes? Nothing, that's what.

Instead of showing R&K, the local channel bumped the Christian morning show (brrr) into the 9 a.m. slot and runs The View at 11. I have tried watching The View. Too much shrieking and direct sales. Whoopi isn't worth it.

So that leaves me with Entertainment Tonight, which is nauseating about half the time. Plus the internet, plus various other social media.

But geez. No Regis bewailing the performance of his Notre Dame football team of a Monday morning? No Kelly to talk about her shoes and her family and her dog and the production assistant's upcoming wedding?

OK, it was never particularly fascinating. But I was used to it, darn it. Farewell, acquaintances-I-never-really-liked. See you on Facebook.

A Quote

Because no, I cannot JUST LET GO of the idea that maybe we don't have to keep FIGHTING people with guns, bombs, drones, propaganda, et cetera.

"A merely fallen enemy may rise again, but the reconciled one is truly vanquished."

Friedrich Schiller apparently said that, according to the London Independent (according to The Week).

What's say we try that whole "reconciliation" thing instead of knocking people down and killing them? Could we start now?

Remembering

...because it's 11:00 on 11/11.

And also wishing a little--wishing that we didn't have to remember war and its costs.

The sacrifice many have made is beyond my ability to understand except through metaphor. Those who have not died physically have died to a life of innocence and been born to a life of terrible knowledge. That sacrifice spares me the need to know what they know.

I'm grateful for all those sacrifices and, at the same time, acutely aware that gratitude is no true compensation. Gratitude is, however, all I have.

Except I can also wish. I wish that we did not ask men and women to risk death and horror on our behalf--that we did not have to ask it. I wish that we could share rights and freedoms--claim them for ourselves and extend them to others--without violence.

Maybe I'm naive (maybe?), but I can't help but think the soldiers we remember today may have wished the same thing. Maybe silently, maybe just for a moment, but they wished it--and they went anyway.

To remember and honor their sacrifice, I must also remember and honor that wish.

Sometimes...

Sometimes I wish my father were still alive.

(Don't worry, this isn't a sentimental post.)

Sometimes I wish my father were alive so he could see how RIGHT I was about Joe Lieberman ("I", Conn.), whose fan I have NOT been since back in the Days of Gore (Al) and Impeachment. Grrr.

My father was a forgiving man, mostly. Eventually. He was plenty angry and betrayed during the Nixon years but I think part of that hurt was bewilderment. He wondered how someone entrusted with so much could deceive himself (and others) so consistently and stoop so low in order to gain so little. At least I think that's what my father would say.

In any case, my father's forgiving attitude is what I'm aspiring to. Forgiving a U.S. senator for his need to grandstand and make an issue like healthcare all about HIM, Joe Lieberman. Yes, I realize it's not particularly shocking behaviour for a politician.

I only wish it were.

A Tale of Two Doctors

I've seen a few medical professionals lately. I pretend it has nothing to do with getting older. In fact, it doesn't; it has to do with having checkups.

Tuesday, I went to a physician's office. I flashed my health card and was ushered in to talk with the physician. When we were done, I made an appointment for my physical and left with an order for routine blood tests. No money exchanged hands. I had no co-payment. I will not receive a bill for 20% of the charge up to some amount.

This is the kind of health care Canadians like to talk about, and with good reason. When you're sick, you get care. However, when you're healthy, as I am, and you live in an area where family physicians are scarce, as I do, getting regular medical care requires jumping through hoops. Still, I get by with a little help from friends...and now I have a doctor.

Wednesday, I saw the dentist. At the end of the appointment, I went to the desk and made an appointment for a repeat in 9 months. I also received a photocopy of the form they're submitting to my insurance provider. When the insurance company pays for everything it pays for, there will be a balance left to pay, and I will be expected to pay it.

If this process sounds familiar to you Americans, it should. Routine preventive dentistry is exempt from the "free" medical care. So are routine hearing health and routine eye exams. For those health professionals, you need deep wallets or insurance. And insurance determines what treatments are covered (fluoride is not) and how often I get cleanings (every 9 months; other insurance I've had allows cleanings every 6 months).

Some issues with hearing, vision, or teeth are considered "medical" and therefore would be covered. If you suddenly lose hearing and see your physician, she may order a test from the audiologist to determine what hearing is lost and refer you to an ENT specialist or neurologist. Those kinds of problems are deemed to be "medical."

But if you're losing hearing and it looks like routine aging, you're outta luck. What about the fact that if you can't hear what your physician says, you won't follow instructions? Maybe you take two pills at bedtime instead of one pill at a time, 12 hours apart? And if you have a mouthful of decayed teeth, your overall health is at risk. That stuff isn't addressed as well up here.

Medications are also not covered. So, for example, your pharmaceutical insurance might allow you to receive chemotherapy at home. Or it might not. It might defray 80% of the cost of some drugs, and leave you on the hook for the full price of others.

Of course, that state of affairs is "normal" in the U.S. Hearing aids are expensive; many boomers should have them and can't afford them. Your insurance may not cover an experimental chemotherapy, even though your participation may benefit not only you but the entire population who has the same cancer.

When I was having my teeth x-rayed, I heard a young woman talking with a hygienist. She said, "When you don't have dental insurance, you're obsessive with the floss." I would submit that those of us who do have dental insurance can also be obsessive with the floss, and that floss isn't the answer to all dental problems. Of course, her point is that not all medical care is free even on this "socialist" side of the border.

And as I have said before, medical systems are systems, with emphasis on the word system. No system is perfect.

But this system has advantages, I have to say. I really wish Americans weren't so afraid of it.

Literary Mashup...and Zombies

In my usual hip and happ'nin fashion, I recently participated in a pop culture phenomenon: I pretended to send my six-year-old son up in a flimsy hot-air balloon in an effort to get a television show.

Just kidding. Really, I read Pride and Prejudice and Zombies, by Jane Austen and Seth Grahame-Smith.

I was inspired in part by slogging through (most of) (okay, some of) a literary classic, Don Quixote, for a book club. And yes, I felt a glow equivalent to the one you get from eating nothing but veggies and working out regularly. Therefore, I needed some Halloween candy. Also some way to get "The Impossible Dream" out of my head.

Although I contemplated re-reading the original Pride and Prejudice, I opted not to. I've been curious about P&P&Z because it is successful and because it has generated much discussion yet little outrage (at least in my cocoon). Also, I recently heard an interview with the publisher who thought up this idea (I'm behind on podcasts but I think it was mid-September, an episode of Q hosted by the lovely and talented Jian Ghomeshi) and this publisher told an interesting tale.

The form is, apparently, a literary mashup.

For those who are even less hip and with-it than I am--that is, the person to whom I happen to be married--a mashup is a combination of songs (and, nowadays, videos thereof) to make a new song (or video). Go here for definitions from the Urban Dictionary. The mashup is apparently mostly a music phenomenon, with crossovers to videos on YouTube.

And according to the Q interview, the publisher one day idly wondered what the literary equivalent of the mashup was. He wrote down a list of classics whose copyrights, conveniently, are lapsed and which are thus in the public domain--Moby Dick, Pride and Prejudice, Oliver Twist, and others. And then he made another list, this time of pop culture phenomena: zombies, sea monsters, vampires, monkeys, and others. And then he drew a line between the columns. When he connected Pride and Prejudice with zombies, he knew he had an excellent mash. Er, match. Or anyway, a title.

I liked that story a lot. How often do people stop at the "idle curiosity" step, without actually pursuing something innovative? Even I go only one step beyond idle curiosity, to decide that "someone" should do "something." That is, after all, the origin of my own venture, "Great Ideas for Other People," which I still can't figure out how to make into an actual business, but you heard about it here first.

So here's a rundown of my pop culture experience.

1. I had a difficult time finding the book. I looked high and low in fiction, under Austen and Smith. I looked on the store's computers 3 times to verify that the store had 23 copies on the shelves. And then I realized that the book must be shelved in one of those sections of the store I never go into: Horror. (Other sections I avoid include the yoga mat section, the computer reference book section, and the inspirational business section. If you see me there, I'm under duress--likely for a job.) Which also describes how I felt looking at the rest of the books in the section. Not exactly my cuppa.

2. So imagine my surprise to find that the book is kinda cute except when it's dumb. It has some fairly stupid gross-out humo(u)r (bodily functions, pus) and even a couple of off-colo(u)r jokes involving balls--both the kind you dance at and the kind that go into a musket. This aspect of the zombie story line is the least effective part of the combination.

3. In some cases, the addition of the zombie story line actually serves to make characters slightly more accessible to modern audiences. Charlotte Lucas has a pretty good reason for marrying Mr. Collins, for example--one that's comprehensible even to modern women. Mr. Bennet, too, has a different motivation that makes him not completely arbitrary and capricious. However, both characters retain enough of their original personalities so as not to spoil the storyline. The Wickham story is also resolved in a way that provides satisfaction to some modern readers.

4. In other cases, the story changes seem arbitrary. Mr. Bennet and Mrs. Gardiner both commit transgressions in the mashup that aren't in the original story. I was interested to see how those transgressions could help solidify or twist the original plot back on itself in an effective way--but they never did. A significant twist to the Charlotte/Mr. Collins storyline was equally "why?"

However, the questions in the Reader's Discussion Guide alone are worth the price of the book. Or at least a look-see in the bookstore. Read #6. Seriously.

Overall, it's like those miniature Mr. Goodbars--not bad for what they are, but not nearly as good as a Hershey's Special Dark miniature.

I did enjoy my foray into the mashup world. Always something to learn from popular culture. Though I think I might need an hour to dip into the original P&P. Just to cleanse the palate.