Yipe! Yipe! Yipe!

I had this idea yesterday to write a play about all this HPV hooplah. My off-the-top-of-my-head title was Gardasil Girls. Har har.

The more I thought about writing this play, the more excited I got. But, I got a bit stuck. I mean great, smart-ass title, but what's the story? I thought about gathering a whole bunch of stories from other women who have had HPV issues, cervical cancer, young women unsure of the vaccine, etc.

And today, I'm feeling myself get all caught up in this media coverage and stressing about turning into some unwitting spokesperson for HPV awareness when I really just trying to focus on my creative work right now and not get derailed by every shiny thing that I come across.

Deep breath.

So, I went looking for stories online. Just to start me off on some brainstorming for this play. I came across a site called EyesOnThePrize.org. Started by ten gyno cancer survivors. Stories galore. And I must be a sucker for punishment because I went to the story about the 30-year-old who, within a year, went metastatic and died. Oh. My. God.

To brighten my teetering mood, I went to another story of a woman from Alberta. Hey, maybe I could interview her as research! Her story did not end in death, thank God. But, of course, her's was the kind of story where the stats say 90% of people will be cured and she was one of the 10%. Over and over again.

It's just after noon and I am FREAKING OUT. The fear is back. The fear is saying, "Mel. You could be that 10% too. Just get the effin' surgery. Quit trying to be a hero. Quit trying to be a this-will-look-great-in-my-memoirs drama queen. Just stick to the program and shut up."