Incoherent Ramblings and Stream of Consciousness Thoughts

October 9, 2006
8:37 am

Well, the pregnancy test came back positive. You know, I put on a brave face for my readers and many of them keep saying that I’m courageous and brave. But they’re wrong. I’m scared. I’m fucking terrified. I’ve never been in this situation before and, truth be told, I never quite ‘got it’ before now. I guess it’s something that you just can’t understand until you’ve actually been there, as I am now. But the fact of the matter is that I’m blogging about it and I’m getting the shitty comments and I’m getting the helpful comments as well. More kind comments than unkind and that, at least, is something.

But I’m still scared; I’m still terrified at what’s happening to me. Questions shoot through my mind like angry wasps buzzing in my ear.

What will the clinic be like?
How many protesters will there be?
Will I be strong enough to wade past them or will I crumble and be shamed as they so wish me to be?
What will the doctors be like?
Will they be kind?
Or will they try to guilt trip me?
Should I tell my friends and family or should I be quiet?
How can I keep pretending to be happy and brave when I’m actually terrified on the inside?
Will it hurt?
How will I get over my phobia of gynecologists?
Oh gods, I’m scared. I’m so scared!
Will I be able to get over the fear of the speculum?
Will I get that thing where everything clamps down from terror and they have to tell me to ‘relax’ over and over again?
Will the doctor be a male or a female?
Am I stupid to be afraid of all of it?
How can I deal with the resentment I feel at Dubhe for not getting any of this backlash?
Is it horrible that I feel resentment in the first place that he hasn’t been the target of hatred?
Will this affect our relationship for a long while to come?
Is it horrible of me that I’ve refused to have penetrative sex since this began?
If I have to have a surgical abortion will it be worse since my cervix is fucked?
When they start talking about hormonal birth control should I speak up and tell them that I can’t take it or just take a shot and deal with it?

Sure, I put on a brave face, don’t we all? And, when you write things of a decidedly radical feminist bent you’re subjected to quite a few negative comments. I get plenty of hateful, nasty comments, I’ve been threatened before and I’ve been screamed at and insulted and had horrible things said to me. To be honest, you kind of develop a thicker skin, or at least you pretend to.

Some days I can laugh in the face of it but other days I’m worried and scared and can summon little more than a half-hearted, insecure smile. Am I brave? No. I’m not. I’m the farthest thing from brave that I can be without moving into complete coward territory. But I sure can put up a big front sometimes, and even better, sometimes I even believe it.

I’ve asked myself countless times why I even mentioned this entire thing on the blog. What was I thinking? Where the fuck was my head? I chide myself and condemn myself for opening this seeming can of worms. I self-blame, telling myself that I shouldn’t complain about the hatred because, after all, I put it out there.

But see, the thing is that it makes me feel good to write. That is what I do. Writing is the medium that I love more than any other expression. I never in a million years expected it to blow up the way it did. I never expected the links and the comments and the helpful and not so helpful advice. What I expected was simply to rage at yet another injustice. To be frank I never felt fear when I wrote that first post about the EC fiasco. Hell, I’ve followed news stories of similar things. While I’ve been blogging I’ve watched the news as woman after woman had a hard time getting EC filled or failed altogether in their efforts.

I’ve read the stories of the pharmacists refusing EC to women who have been raped. I’ve read them and I’ve raged with them, I never, in a million years, expected my story, one more story among vast oceans of stories, to get the attention it ultimately got. And if that was a surprise then the larger surprise was the hate that was also doled out.

To be perfectly honest I haven’t focused too much on issues of abortion and so forth. In this blog I have explored, in detail, my abusive marriages and relationships, my rapes and the lens of feminism that they led me to. This space has been little more than a public sounding board, a way to tell the world that Yes, these things happen, Yes, they happened to me and Yes, I am trying to heal from them after so many years.

This blog was created as a place for self-exploration in a public forum; it is also something I never thought I’d do. I have always kept journals, but they have never been read by another soul before, and here I was spilling out all this shit and damnit, it felt good. But I only dealt with the stuff that hit very close to home. Those things that had directly impacted me and forced me to look at things through a different lens than I had ever used before.

So writing about the EC thing didn’t cause me fear or concern. As far as I was concerned it was simply one more story in a landscape dotted with similar stories. I reckoned that my regular readers would leave comments of support and that they would be, in a sense, a shoulder to lean on.

It didn’t actually turn out that way though. For some reason this story went bigger than I ever thought possible. Even though I have read countless stories in the newspaper and online and in other blogs about the very same thing, for whatever reason this story, my story, was elevated to attention status. And wow, did it ever get attention.

I have often wondered why a story that has been told so many times would get this sort of attention while so many others haven’t. I felt guilt, and actually still do to a certain extent. There is a not insignificant bit of guilt residing within me that the voices of so many other women were ignored but for whatever reason, mine was heard. My readers know that while reproductive choice is important to me, as it is with all feminists, my main focuses on this blog have been rape, defining it, redefining it and discussing it. As well as the exploration of pain that survivors deal with on a daily basis. I am also notorious for my anti-porn stance and I devote much of my writing to discussing these topics.

Abortion, EC and so forth have made appearances here but my focus has been pretty much limited to the things that I have personally experienced. So, here I was in this position that so many others have been in and, for whatever reason; my story was picked up and read. And goddamnit, that makes me feel like shit.

*sigh*

Anyway, after writing about the EC thing I saw another area of feminism that I had not previously seen on anything more than a superficial level. I saw hatred and misogyny that was every bit as vile and horrible as the standard stuff I get all the time. People left comments, many, many helpful and wonderful comments. People also got angry with me and acted in ways that were abhorrent, cruel and dehumanizing.

I was told that the people who wrote such horrible woman-hating sentiments were simply ‘being jerks’. It was suggested that there is a number of people out there who just get off on being assholes. It was also suggested that some of these commenters were even pro-choice but that they just enjoyed and thought it funny to randomly attack people.

I called bullshit then and I stand by that now. Quite frankly if there exists people in this world who truly have no stance on a topic, or even who support that topic, who say these sorts of things to other people just for giggles then this world is a far sicker place than I ever imagined. It has been suggested that some of the commenters were ‘just people who get off on this sort of thing’, and it has been argued that these same people just ‘get off’ on insulting, threatening and debasing all others ‘just for fun’. It has even been alluded to that these same people may even be pro-choice but just enjoy cruelty, debasement and degradation for the sheer enjoyment of it.

If this is true, then what it boils down to is this: These people get off on cruelty for the sake of cruelty. They need no agenda; they just get off on kicking people who are down. People who are in pain, or scared or people who just plain care about something.

I cannot think of a more terrifying individual to be around. I cannot, in my wildest dreams, imagine a person who agrees with abortion telling another person that they are worthy of death just to be cruel.

Anyway as I was saying before I got sidetracked. After the posting on EC I was surprised and shocked, yet I was happy to see that so many people were getting the message that this sort of thing is happening to so many women. I am but a drop in the proverbial bucket on this one, many women have gone before me on this and many will follow after me. I took the attention and all the knocks I received and told myself, “Well, at least this topic is getting more attention now”.

And with that I resumed my writing, always knowing that there was a chance that the EC didn’t work. I watched the days and wrung my hands. I read up on abortion protesters and on the stories of women who have braved these picket lines. I read up on herbal miscarriage formulas and hoped that the worst would not come to pass.

Last week I looked at the calendar and closed my eyes before sighing largely. I was late. The first day I thought that perhaps it was my nerves, when the morning of the second day came I decided ‘no more excuses’ and I got a test. I knew that there was a strong possibility that I was pregnant but I was terrified to face that reality, instead, I stalled that first day, hoping beyond hope that I was just nervous.

When that plus sign showed up I fell to the floor and cried. The EC had failed and I was facing down a dragon. I retreated from the blog for a few days, sobbing in fear and worry while I did more in-depth research on my options. I calculated back and knew that I was but a few weeks along, indeed, this last Friday was 3 weeks exactly since the condom broke. Dubhe tried to take as much time off as he could as did I, but eventually he had to go back to work and I sat here, alone, when I had work to do.

 

I wrung my hands some more when I thought about posting the story at
The Den. I remembered the bitter sting of the hateful comments that were posted over the EC and decided better of telling the story. Then, one evening I was chatting with Dubhe something became clear to me. I was being scared into submission by the same kind of people who place shame onto the shoulders of a rape victim while forgetting entirely the other party involved.

I asked myself a few questions, “Would it help or hurt if I write about it?” and I realized immediately that this story would very likely help other women while simultaneously hurting me. It’s likely that this is a story that has been replayed many times and if I was feeling alone and scared then surely there were others out there who felt the same. I looked back over my time blogging and came to understand that it was precisely the knowledge that I wasn’t alone in my experiences that helped me so very much.

Knowing that you aren’t the only person who has experienced something gives you an immediate sense of relief and begins to wipe away the shame caused by feeling alone. Understanding that my story may actually help someone else is what prompted me to write that last post. Of course, as part and parcel of the writing, I would be making myself a huge target. So I spoke to Dubhe and told him that I wanted to do this, I asked him to take over everything on the blog for a bit so I didn’t have to deal directly with it. He readily agreed and so it has been.

The nasty emails have been coming, along with the kind ones and, for the record Dubhe has said that there are far more kind emails than nasty ones. A fact for which I am eternally grateful. The same holds true for the comments, by far there are more kind comments than hateful ones.

This entire thing has brought so many things to the surface for me. In some ways I’m in a catch 22. I refuse to play the forced birthers game of “Prove why you’re an exception to my no abortion policy” while at the same time there are things that would invariably shed a completely different light onto the situation if people knew it.

The fact of the matter is that I’ve realized, through all of this, that there are so many factors in any individual situation that they almost become moot. For example: I’ve wondered, as has Dubhe, why he became completely invisible during all of this. It’s as if his dick completely disappeared from the equation and it does not escape me that if I were using the pill and still got pregnant I would be accused of being irresponsible or, more likely, having made a mistake taking it. Thus the pregnancy becomes my fault.

However, what if I said that the condom broke because of user error? What if I said that Dubhe didn’t use it properly? Ahh, but see, there’s the rub. I’m still at fault for not taking the pill. It’s still my fault because I should have known and the pregnancy is still my fault. More than that though, I’m playing the ‘prove why I’m an exception to the rule’ game.

What if I said that I can’t bear children without risk of death? What if I told everyone that I had some medical problem by which I couldn’t carry a child? Of course, that still becomes my fault because if I knew that then why didn’t I get my tubes tied? Why didn’t I succumb to expensive and invasive surgery that poses a whole host of different problems to women who undergo it? If I say that I do not believe that invasive surgery with massive side effects is an acceptable birth control method then I’m just asking for it anyway and thus, the pregnancy becomes my fault again. Not to mention that again I’m playing the ‘prove why I’m an exception to the rule’ game.

What if I said that for the last 18 months I did exactly what the forced birth camp says I should do and I ‘kept my legs shut’? What if I said that the risk of conception was too much a risk for me to take knowing that I couldn’t take hormonal birth control and didn’t have the money for invasive surgery? What if I said that I wouldn’t let Dubhe stick his dick in me for the last 18 months of our relationship? Of course, then I’m borderline abusive for withholding sex from him, and everyone in the world sympathizes with him. Then I’m a frigid bitch who wouldn’t put out and should have just used contraception anyway so that he wouldn’t have to suffer such a horrible fate as not being able to stick his dick inside his partner. Of course, then I’m pandering to the ‘I’m an exception to the rule camp’ once again.

I could go on and on and it may be that these stories are real, that these individual factors do indeed apply to me or it could be that these are factors that other women have had. Either way, I won’t be baring any of the details of what happened to me, even though perhaps those factors would indeed take some of the heat off of me they will serve no purpose but to undermine any woman who can’t ‘explain why she’s different’.

Instead what I’ve done is watch curiously as people act just like people and forget that Dubhe was involved and forget that the birth control was on his penis and forget that for each and every single woman out there there is an entire set of factors that you can’t even begin to grasp.

I can point out that forcing a woman to play the ‘prove it’ game is simply a trap crafted to make women feel as ashamed as they can be made to feel while explaining why they are ‘different’. The fact of the matter is that no woman is ‘different’. Each and every single woman who has ever found herself in these circumstances has an individual host of reasons that a pregnancy is a bad idea for them and all of those reasons are valid.

There are also those who have stated that my story is ‘too perfect’ to be real. To be honest there’s little that I can say to that but it doesn’t exactly surprise me to hear some stand up and say that I’m lying. Indeed, women who undergo traumatic, life changing experiences are often written off as liars. The default position is to disbelieve everything we say. A woman who has been raped is clearly a liar for some nefarious purpose and a woman who is impregnated is also clearly a liar.

 

It is a common tactic to say a woman is lying if she’s saying something that a given person doesn’t want to believe is true. It’s much easier to accuse a woman of lying and write her off completely than to admit that there are things that happen with stunning regularity that are just wrong. I suppose that I could send them a piss sample to prove it, but why the fuck should I have to do that? Sure there’s lots of things I could do to ‘prove it’ but I know this tactic, I’m quite familiar with it as it is the exact tactic that people (mostly men) will use to defame a woman who has accused a man of raping her.

Indeed, the similarities are stunning. I’ve heard that I ‘should’ have known to get online and get a prescription ordered. I’ve been told that I ‘should’ have kept my legs closed. I’ve been told that I ‘should’ have done more to stop it. That I ‘should’ have known better than to let a man near me. I’ve been told that if my story was real I would have done this, and this, and this, and this differently.

All of this sounds strikingly familiar to, “You should have done more to stop it”, “If he really raped you then you would have done X”, “If you didn’t really want to be raped then you would have done this, and this and this to stop it”, “If you had fought him more and kept your legs closed then you wouldn’t have been raped”, “You should have known what would happen if you went up to his hotel room”.

What all of this has in common is a desire to be able to put your hands over your eyes and not see what is happening around you. My story is not unique; I assure you that it is not some big conspiracy. If the fact that it is ‘too perfect’ for your liking unnerves you then think about this: Every time a pregnancy occurs it is ‘too perfect’. Indeed, a pregnancy can only occur under perfect circumstances.

I have been researching and it appears that the EC wouldn’t have affected this pregnancy anyway since it doesn’t do much if you’re ovulating. When the condom failed I was in that few day window of fertility and from what I understand EC wouldn’t have done a damn thing anyway.

 

The simple fact of the matter is that nobody has to believe me, indeed, I will offer no proof other than my word. This blog has always been a journey for me, in which I write down my experiences and look at them through a feminist lens. It was never intended to be anything but that but for whatever reason (I still can’t figure it out) people decided that they liked what I had to say and they began reading it.

When I started this journey I wanted to finally share with others the things I have been through and experienced but I was too frightened to share these same things with people I knew. I decided to use the blog as a kind of cloak, behind which I could tell all and someone might hear. I wouldn’t have to see the look of disbelief on their faces when I told my story and I wouldn’t have to hear the ‘well you should have known’ crowd when they stepped up.

This blog began because I was too frightened to talk about so many things. Indeed, I still possess much of that same fear and my guts are trembling right now as I think about crossing that line of protestors. In short, this space was created as a safe space for me where people just happened to like what I was saying. If anyone wishes to believe that this story is false then so be it, there is nothing I can do to tell you otherwise and, to be perfectly honest, I will not endeavor to ‘prove’ anything to anyone.

I know I said that I was on hiatus but I had an urge to write this morning and decided that I’d just go ahead and post it anyway. Heh, I haven’t even edited this as I’m pretty much exhausted from writing it all out and now, I feel the way I would feel if I spent a few hours sobbing. Kind of relieved, really tired, and for some strange reason, a bit cleaner if that makes any sense.


I’ll have Dubhe put in a proper update soon, or I’ll do it myself as I get more information. Oh and you’ll note that the beginning of this post probably reads like a journal entry. It was intended to be just that actually, an entry in my private journal I keep on the computer, until I got further in and decided that I would post it in the blog instead. In any case, I don’t expect this post to be much more than stream of consciousness writing kind of akin to vomiting onto paper and feeling less ill for the effort but I thought I’d stick it out there in any case.

~BB

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Morality clauses, EC, and broken condoms

I’m stunned. I’m utterly, completely stunned. I’m shaky and anxious and shocked beyond belief. I live in rural Ohio and I have been denied EC. 


Two months ago I stopped taking birth control. My body finally decided that it was fed up and the cycle of side-effects began again as they have every time I’ve taken hormonal contraception since I was a teenager. The Depo shot culminated in a trip to the ER due to heavy bleeding and fainting. So my doctor switched me to the yet another low-dose birth control pill which began fucking me up several months ago. So, approximately 2 months ago I stopped taking it.

I am also unable to be fitted for birth control methods that block your cervix seeing as how I have almost no cervix left after my operation last year. So for the last few months I have relied exclusively on condoms.

Friday night the condom broke. But I didn’t panic, I thought to myself, with a huge sigh of relief, “Wow, thank goodness it’s over the counter now!” and I fell asleep (since there are absolutely NO 24 hour pharmacies within 100 miles of me). Saturday morning I awoke and phoned the pharmacy. I asked them about EC and was told that they won’t be stocking it until January 1st, until then it was still by prescription only.

Soooo, I phoned my doctors office which informed me that the office was closed and that I had to call the local hospital and have her paged in order to reach her on the weekend. So I called her and had them page her. A little while later she called back and I answered the phone immediately. She sounded tired and really grumpy; I apologized for having to page her for a thing like this and then asked her if I could get a prescription for EC. She explained that I needed to go to the Emergency Room to get it.

My heart fell, the ER has a 100$ co-pay attached to it. “Well,” I thought to myself, “that’s still better than the price of a kid” so I called the Emergency Room to verify the information and to ask what their procedures were. When I called the hospital they transferred me to the ER. I asked the nurse what the procedure was for EC and what would be the best time to come down there (I didn’t want to wind up behind 3 critical people and end up waiting for 12 hours). The nurse responded in a small, questioning voice, “EC?” and so I explained. “Yes, Emergency Contraception. Plan B. You know, right?”

“Oh” she replies. “Hold on just a sec” and she puts me on hold.

A few moments later another nurse answers the phone. “Can I help you” he says.

“Yes,” I reply “My name is BB and I was told that I need to come here to get a scrip for Plan B.”

“Oh,” he says, “Can you hang on a second?”

“Sure” I reply, becoming decidedly nervous.

He puts me on hold and I sit on the edge of the bed frowning and fiddling with a pen. I wait on hold for 15 minutes before he finally comes back on.

“Have you talked to your doctor?” he asks.

“Yes, I talked to her this morning and she told me to go to the ER” I reply.

“Oh, so she won’t prescribe it for you?” he asks.

This possibility hadn’t occurred to me. I just assumed that the ER was standard procedure, “Hmmm” I say, “Well, I guess not. It’s not just standard procedure to go to the ER?”

“No, not really. We don’t really have this happen much.” He replies and then he says, “Well I called the pharmacy to ask them because I had heard that it was going over the counter. They told me that they won’t sell it til the first of the year” I finished the sentence with him and explained that I had called the pharmacy first thing this morning and was told the very same thing.

“Well see,” he begins, his voice dropping a little, “the problem is that you have to meet the doctor’s criteria before he’ll dispense it to you.”

“Criteria?” I question.

“Well,” the nurse sounds decidedly nervous as though what he really wanted to do was hang up the phone completely, “Yes, his criteria. I mean…ummm…well, are you ok? Is there any, ummm….trauma?” he asks me.

My face changes expression and I hurry to explain, “No, no” I said, “No. I haven’t been raped. This was consensual sex.”

“Oh…” he trails off.

I wait expectantly.

“Well, ummm….*clears throat*…So you haven’t been raped?” he asks again.

“No. I have not been raped. The condom broke”. I state, becoming very frustrated at this point and wondering what the hell is going on.

“Ok, well ummm….Are you married?” he mumbles the words so low I can barely hear them.

Suddenly I get this image of the poor nurse standing at the hospital reading from a cue card that was given to him by a doctor.

“No.” I state plainly. “I am not married. I’ve been in a relationship for several years and I have three children, I don’t want a fourth.” I respond tersely.

“Oh, I see.” He says and then he hurries on, “Well, see. *I* understand. I want you to know that I understand what you’re saying. But see, the problem is that we have 4 doctors here right now but only one of them ever writes EC prescriptions. But see, the thing is that he’ll interview you and see if you meet his criteria. Now, I called the pharmacy but I also talked to him and well….*clears throat*….you can come down and try to get it. You know, if you meet his criteria he’ll give you a prescription, I mean, there’s really no harm in trying.” the nurse trails off, his voice falters as I realize what I’m being told.

He continues, almost over eager at this point to distance himself from the hospital, “See, I understand what you’re saying and all. I think it’s a good thing that it’s going over the counter. I just thought I should tell you what he told me. You know, you’ll just have to have an interview with him and he’ll see if you meet his criteria. He’ll only be on duty until 2pm today though and you should ask for him if you decide to come down because he’s really your only chance. 

I sigh and thank him before hanging up. I know exactly what he was telling me. If I wasn’t raped and wasn’t married then too damn bad for me.

I opened the phone book again and called the Urgent Care in my county. Who knows, maybe they’ll do it for me. “No,” the nurse said, “We don’t prescribe the abortion pill here”.

“No, wait I’m not asking for the abortion pill. I’m asking for EC!” I say, “It’s not the same thing.”

“Well, we use the words interchangeably here. Sorry, we don’t prescribe it”. She all but races to get off the phone with me.

I start looking through the telephone book, dialing hospitals from counties all around me. It seems that nobody will prescribe it to me. None of the hospitals are willing to touch me, of the ones that will prescribe it I am asked a series of questions to ‘screen’ me before I come to the hospital. The results aren’t good. I’m not married and wasn’t raped, so there’s very little they can do for me. But I can try the nurses tell me uncomfortably.

“But if I go through all this and I can’t get it will I still be charged the co-pay?”

“Well….ummmm…yeah. I’m afraid so Ma’am.” comes the reply.

I called every hospital in every surrounding county and none of them would prescribe me EC. Not even ONE. Of the 2 that said that they sometimes will their ‘criteria’ was clearly not my situation.

Next I tried Planned Parenthood. None of them were open. Not one. Every Planned Parenthood in Ohio was either closed on Saturday or would be closed before I could drive the 100 miles to them.

I was told by every urgent care I called and every emergency room that I was shit out of luck. I was asked my age. My marital status. How many children I had. If I had been raped and when I became uncomfortable with the questions I was told, “Well Ma’am, try to understand that you will be interviewed and the doctor has ‘criteria’ that you need to meet before he will prescribe it for you.”

When I asked about what ‘criteria’ there was that I had to meet, the reply was, “Well, he’s kind of old fashioned”. I was told that I might be able to ‘talk him into it’ anyway and that it can’t hurt to try (except for the fact that each and every time I try it I’ll have to pay $100 co-pay).

I found that the more hospitals and clinics and doctors I called the more ashamed I became. Yep, you heard right. I was feeling ashamed at being such an unworthy dirty whore. Well, at least in the eyes of all these hospitals and doctors and clinics. I cried, then I sweated, then I cried some more, then I called some more.

Folks, the condom broke Friday night and I searched all weekend for someone who could prescribe me EC. It is now Monday and I have to report that I have been unable to find anyone who will write me a fucking prescription for EC. None of the hospitals in the surrounding counties would write it for me. I stopped my search at about 100 miles from my home because my telephone book wouldn’t take me out any further than that.

I have been asked about my sexual practices. Whether I’m ‘monogamous’ or ‘in a relationship’ if I’m married, if I have kids, how many kids I have, if I was raped or ‘traumatized’ but there wasn’t’ ONE question about my health. Not one. The few places that said that they had a doctor who would occasionally write prescriptions for EC told me that I had to ask for that doctor specifically and then they proceeded to tell me that I would be ‘interviewed’ to see if I meet that doctors ‘criteria’ and then they proceeded to ask me all the above questions before telling me that I should ‘try anyway’ and I ‘might be able to talk him into it’.

Unwilling to go to the ER and be shamed and ‘interviewed’ for my ‘criteria’ before being told that I’m too slutty or too something or other I broke into a sobbing heap of anger and fear and I did the only thing I could think of doing. Dubhe and I went out to the local pet shop and played with the puppies for awhile before getting a bite to eat. Then I came home and drank a bottle of wine, smoked like a fiend and downed butter rum shots until I fell asleep.

Moral of the story?……

Well, quite frankly I don’t know, it seems that there is no moral to the story other than morality clauses fucking suck. I’m off to smoke a carton of cigarettes and suck down more butter rum so stick that in your morality pipe and smoke it you dirty bastards. Oh and if I end up having to get an abortion I’ll ask if I can keep the little parasite and I’ll be sending it to each of you who denied me EC.

Ok, I’m also editing this post now because I wanted to ask. Does anyone know if Nortrel 7/7/7 can be used as EC? I thought about getting the last refill I have on the old prescription and taking them all over a 2 day period. Of course, I don’t want to die either *sigh* and I’m afraid that it will fuck me up to take all the pills in a few days.

I’ve been unable to find the information on my brand of pill. The packet I have is actually Nortrel 7/7/7 but it was sustituted for Ortho Novum 7/7/7 (I assume that the Nortrel is the generic form of Ortho Novum) Anyway if anyone out there has used my brand as EC please, please, please let me know!!

Thanks a million guys.

~BB