Harper Kingsley blog

I try to stay out of most political debates, for my own safety, if nothing else. I do have very strong opinions though, and there are times when I feel the need to step up and share a few of them. For the greater good, as it were.

The push to defund Planned Parenthood is something I need to address. It is really important for the health and safety of millions of women in our country. They need Planned Parenthood to stay open, offering medical care that they can afford.

Where the money goes:
42% STI/STD Testing & Treatment
34% Contraception
11% Other Women’s Health Services
9% Cancer Screening and Prevention
3% Abortion Services*
1% Other Services

*Government funding does not support this service.

The defunding of Planned Parenthood would mean wives, mothers, sisters, and daughters would lose their main health care provider. If they can afford it they can switch to more expensive alternatives. If they can’t afford it, they die or suffer in silence.

My mother formed a horrifying melanoma on her back. It was a dark splotch growing between her shoulder blades. By the time she realized it was there, the nodule had formed tendrils and was reaching into her chest cavity. Until someone pointed out how bad that spot looked, she thought she had a weird zit that wouldn’t go away.

I paid thousands and thousands of dollars (all of my savings, including the Kid’s college fund) so she could get spot treatments — they would point a laser directly at the nodule and irradiate just that area. She was so relieved not to have to go through chemo therapy — she was terrified of losing her hair. But it worked. The cancer was gone and she was okay, and life went on.

Until nearly two years later when she collapsed. Somehow, all unknowing, cigarettes worked their nefarious magic. Doctors thought she was suffering from heart failure, but instead it was non-small lung cancer and it was bad. I was told she had three months to live.

She died 9 days later. She was 50.

I went from planning how to care for my dying mother on less than $200 a month (all that was left after paying rent, utilities, and paying for childcare for the Kid) to not having a mother at all. It was a shock.

And when I think about it now, I’m sad that the clinic she went to for after care never gave her full cancer screenings. I’m mad that she hid her shortness of breath from me because she knew I couldn’t afford to take care of her and a child at the same time. And I’m angry at myself that there ever had to be a debate about how we could pay for the doctor recommended treadmill test.

That’s right. When I finally noticed how she was struggling to breathe and how her “cold” was lingering for so long, I made her go to the doctor. Without medical insurance, it cost $300 up front for her to get a check up — which involved a doctor listening to her heart and taking some blood and telling her she needed a stress test. Only that test was going to cost $500 I didn’t have.

I told her to wait. I couldn’t afford the test on Tuesday, so she would have to make an appointment for the following Monday. In the meantime, I made arrangements to move her in with me. We gathered up all her things on Thursday and I showed her the condo I’d rented. She collapsed on Friday night while I was at work.

The most terrible thing in the world is to hear that your mother has collapsed and the local clinic has sent her to the hospital, and then to not be told what hospital she’s at. I spent most of the first day trying to be strong in front of the Kid while I frantically called around, trying to find my mother.

Life is hard. Sometimes terrible things happen and there’s nothing you can do about them.

And sometimes, terrible things happen that could have been prevented if people weren’t so greedy and mean.

My mother died and I don’t think I’m ever going to get over it. The things I did, the things I didn’t do, and the kindnesses I didn’t show her when I could. And then there’s that fucking $500 stress test.

Maybe if I could have afforded the test I would have had my mother for that extra three months. Or maybe she still would have died in a hospice gasping for breath, only coherent long enough to push the morphine button. But at the very least, my brothers and my sister would have been able to come and say goodbye to her before an intern punctured her left ventricular aorta and forced emergency heart surgery she was too weak to recover from.

Maybe. Maybe. Maybe.

Cancer screening and prevention is very important. If cancer is caught early, the chances of survival and remission are much higher than if it spreads.

And sure, 9% doesn’t seem like very much money. But that’s 9% of $840.5 MILLION dollars. How many $500 stress tests and $2000 scans can $75,645,000 pay for? How many lives would that save — not just the women that receive that vital early warning, but their children, their spouses, and their parents?

How much money are the lives of women worth? And how much of an asshole does someone have to be to put those lives at risk to make a point that doesn’t need making?

There is for damned sure a war on women happening right now. And it’s not just men targeting them, it’s other women that are in a more financially stable situation taking potshots and destroying opportunities for no good reason.

I’m sorry, but if you’re attacking other people so you can stay at the top of the economic hill, then check yo’self. You need to take a deep, long look at who you are and who you want to be.

So to all the politicans out there pushing lies about Planned Parenthood and using it as your platform to get into office or to make a ton of money on the lobby circuit after you’re out of office… What is wrong with you?

Government funds do not pay for abortions. That’s part of the law. To say otherwise when you’re in a position to know better makes you EVIL and a liar.

Planned Parenthood is vital to the health and well-being of our nation. Because when a woman dies, a light goes out in the world. And someone loses their mom, their daughter, their sister, their aunt, their grandmother, their bus driver, their teacher, their coworker, their friend.

And how tragic to find out that loss could have been prevented if she only had reliable health care.

Hanging out at my brother’s, wishing I’d brought my laptop. I forgot he didn’t have much in the way of lights either. It’s a bit dark here.

Anyways, he’s looking to get some furniture tomorrow and I said I’d go with him. He’s for sure wanting a couch and we’ll figure out anything else once we get there.

In the meanwhile, we ate some pho and now he’s playing video games. It’s maybe a <I>little bit</I> boring. So I’ll work on some story outlines while I’m here.

Someone switched the dryer setting to High heat. My dad’s clothes must have been cooking. I turned the heat down, but who knows how long it was on High.

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Wash clothes in cold/cold water, unless it’s a load of dirty jeans. In that case, wash the jeans in warm/cold water with some baking soda and vinegar. If there’s any grease or waxy/tarry substances, add a can of Coke to break up the binding agents.

Wash white towels in hot/cold water with either some bleach or some baking soda and vinegar.

I dry on low heat with a fabric softener sheet. (There was a horrible instance where I let a hotel launder my clothes, and they melted the designs on a bunch of tee shirts. I was so mad. I wash my own clothes.) Or if I’ve got a wrinkled shirt, I’ll either spritz it with water before tossing it in the dryer or add a damp towel. It’s great for when you don’t have the time to iron. Throw wrinkled clothes in the dryer while taking a shower and getting ready.
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Today has been one of those days when there was a lot of stuff I could do, but I just didn’t have the energy. I’ve added pages to my writing, but it’s like two pages to ATR, one to Tuesday, one to Jazz, and a bunch of fic stuff that’s turning into a flaming garbage bag of emotion that I’m not sure I want to share with anyone.

The funny thing is that I always feel like I’m being super constructive when I’m wasting time. I have to remind myself to stop screwing around and just write. Unless the research is really necessary to forming the story, put a placeholder (I use —-0000—- for typed words, or [] for handwritten pages) and keep going.

I let myself get bogged down overthinking scenes sometimes. Then I get distracted and drift off into other things. It’s ridiculous.

I’m constantly writing, but sometimes there’s no coherence in what I produce.

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EXCERPT– “Tuesday Night: Part Four”

They were squatting in a small two bedroom apartment. Wordlessly they shared the master bedroom, huddled around each other on the queen-sized bed. The door to the second room stayed firmly shut, the child’s single bed with its cartoon sheets undisturbed.

Tony hadn’t let himself dwell on the rust-colored stains on the playmat or the drag marks on the carpet. Definitely didn’t focus on the small size of the fingers that had made those marks, desperate and clawing.

There wasn’t a lot of food in the kitchen, but they had ration bars in their pockets and they made do. The last thing they wanted was to be wandering the city streets scavenging, not when the hive mind seemed to have changed tactics.

Drones had taken to the streets in roving packs. They hadn’t quite gotten to the point of doing building-by-building searches, but Tony figured it was only a matter of time. The hive mind was adapting.

They’d watched as a family of four was run out into the middle of the street. The woman had bucked and screamed as her husband was pressed facedown on the ground. The angle was bad, keeping Tony from seeing the details, but within moments the man was up, helping to hold down the two terrified children, then his wife.

Fifteen minutes later, the drone pack had four new members. They slunk off into the dusk in search of prey, gliding together as though they shared one spine. It had been a chilling display, one he couldn’t look away from.

“I feel like I’m trapped in a horror movie,” he said. They had fallen into whispers since leaving Triangle Park. It felt strange to be so afraid all the time, but Tony thought that he had forgotten any other way to be.

“There’s a reason why I don’t like horror movies.” Seth turned off the burner and carried the pot of ramen to their nest of couch cushions and blankets. He settled opposite Tony in a crosslegged position.

/EXCERPT

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