Faking

Are you capable of taking care of an other human, a baby? Is everyone able to do so? Are you able and humane enough  to take care of others who are around you? Would you expand your family no matter what, even if your children’d be ill? Is the child everything to you? If it is, why is, exactly?

Lately I hear here and there that many women suffer infertility. Being a parent is probably one great feeling which can hardly be substituted by something else. But. What if your genes would be a next apocalypse?

Mentioning this subject many people get offended when I say that artificial children are ill and bad for all of us. Actually, it’s not that they are bad, but those who earned money using their parent’s despair are bad.

We are full of bad genes. To be more precise, we’re full of all kinds of genes. But not every gene will be expressed. There must be some conditions fulfilled in order for a gene to bring out it’s full expression. Some other’s are expressed as they are. And the rest are inactive and hidden, but still there. We are all different because we got different genes expressed. Some of them carry information about hair, height, weight, eye colour, they determine if a person’d be shortsighted, freckled, light tanned etc. But they also carry important information about someone’s general development and general health. Sometimes when two meet and decide to have a family it just won’t work out. They’re incompatible. Eventually, they’re not for each other. Either they get bad offspring or they can’t even get any.

Why does artificial insemination terrify me?

Because it gives a chance to what can’t live by itself, something that is categorized as inadequate by Mother Nature. It’s a Pandora’s box which is setting all the bad genes free. Bad genes which carry information about many rare diseases that are not even studied enough and not to mention treated. They can go silent until an individual concealed by this way reaches full maturity and leaves its own offspring with same genes and even later get expressed, but it’s already late.

Beside mentioned, women pass through series of therapies and take medicines which change their cycle in order for egg cells to be collected. Regarding men, their sperm is being used to collect spermatosoids. But not the best are being collected, but those who can be caught. As it is known, only the fastest spermatosoid will fertilize naturally, because it’s the one that carries the best material. All the others carry bad material and those are the ones that can be caught and are used in the process of impregnation during external fertilization. No needle is fine enough while wounding egg cell’s cellular barrier in order to place the slow spermatosoid inside.

After insemination is over people wait. Many of embryos just die. They can’t survive. How could they, after this kind of violent treatment. Some people do it for many times over and over again in order to get a living embryo. But still it doesn’t mean it will grow into a healthy individual.

People get edgy and emotional when talking about kids. Somehow I get the feeling that they don’t care actually about the big picture.

Reproduction is every organisms’ biological function. Are you dysfunctional if you leave no one behind you? Do you have some other attributes, some other things to offer, beside children?

Civilization is doomed both ways. Some say that the planet Earth is overcrowded. Is it a natural mechanism for reducing the human population? From my point of view people have to choose between no offspring and ill offspring. Which one is right? Which one would you choose, if you’d have to?

 

The greatest

I’m so afraid. I’m facing the worst fear I’ve ever felt in my life. I’m so terrified that I could be life threatened. These are the thoughts in my mind while thinking about a problem I’ve been going through. This is the greatest. The greatest, bad thing happening to me right now. It is huge, and again – I’m so afraid of it.

While studying dentistry and some medical subjects, especially forensics, which I’m in particular fond to; at some point I started thinking about death. Law and medicine are often confronted, but forensics is the part of both medical and law sciences which questions, besides some other things – death. When the person is dead and there’s no one who’d speak in their name, forensics listen to body signs left there, the signs which’d tell the real story about it. I like the truth, especially the hidden one which can’t be just told, but the one you must seek for and look and listen carefully, and if you’re clever enough, you’ll find it and spread it.

Last week I was clumsy. As I said in my recent post, I got stabbed on an used needle. It was an irrigation needle in contact with saliva of three, for me unknown patients. All these years I thought that it can’t happen to me and it will never happen. I’m careful.

But my worst nightmare came true.

As I tried to put a cap on a syringe the needle broke through it and stabbed me. I felt the stab and saw the drop of blood. I washed and disinfected the wound. And now I pray.

That was the pressure I’ve never felt before, as if I’m going to explode. I came home and was quiet for tree days. Although I checked up patients’ records and saw no infective diseases recorded I can’t let that burdening feeling go.

The thing about specific virus hepatitis is that it often gives no symptoms although a person is the carrier. Some people never even feel sickness or any kind of discomfort.

In order to detect antibodies in my system, if an infection occurred, it needs to pass between 6 weeks and 3 months, at least. This will be the time I’ll fly above it. And keep thinking what if.

During last week I kept thinking about what my life would look like if the tests I’m about to take would be positive. I’m ill. Like I’m dirty. In my blood there is something bad, taken from another person by mistake while trying to help and do my job. I’m young. I’ll have no family, no children. People will be afraid of me. My family will feel unpleasant around me, so as my friends. I’ll be rejected once again. I cried. I cried so much. I missed myself. No one saw that; my mother kept talking me about some idiotic problems that are bothered by other people from my surrounding, such as my cousin’s bad grades. I though: “If you’d only knew…” I’ll die alone. I’m going to be a threat to anyone who’d approach me. No one would step out and help me if I were in trouble, bleeding, because I could easily infect them… and so on.

I felt so restless. I’ve been having a problem about which I couldn’t speak to anyone. If I’d tell someone in my closest family, for example my mother, she’d call her sister (my aunt) in despair and tell her about that and then it’d spread to my granny and my other aunt and then they’d contact me in horror to remind me once again how bad my current position is and how that happened, why weren’t I more careful, which are the last words I should listen about in that very moment.

I couldn’t keep it for myself and yet again, I couldn’t just yell about it either. Two days ago I was sitting in the living room with my parents. I told them: “I don’t want to do dentistry anymore”. On their question why’s that I answered partially with my problem which was bothering me so hard. I told them that I’m terrified of deadly, severe and life changing infections to which we are, as medical workers, exposed day by day.

Unexpected, I got the best comfort from my dad. I’m not sure if he figured out that my fear is quite real or not, but he comforted me with the right words. His action somehow released me from two things that were struggling inside of me. The first one was, of course, the actual problem I faced. The second one is the fear that he abandoned me long time ago. He didn’t. He was the one who felt. He didn’t tell me some irrelevant tales about others or overwhelmed me with some marginal everyday issues. He gave me some kind of logical explanation about the situation that could be mine… That was all I needed to hear at that moment. During this week I bumped to many people who just kept talking about themselves, their problems, other people problems… I had to listen to all of that and I couldn’t talk about my very own tragedy.

He reminded me that, once again, 2 + 2 in medicine is not necessarily always 4.

It may not be a strong theory. It may not be true. But my mind needs some explanation and someone to tell me that everything will be alright.

I’ll find out my equation in a month.

Thanks, dad.