In short, a fourteen-year-old girl has come to Planned Parenthood for the Morning-after Pill.
What follows in italics is an excerpt from the book where the nurse giving the patient her discharge instructions. I’m keeping the identity of the author and the name of the book anonymous.
Several more minutes ticked by before the nurse, her peppiness especially noticeable in the wake of her cool, serene, superior returned. A brown paper lunch bag full of brightly colored condoms bunched underneath her arm, a prescription bottle in one hand, and a glass of water in the other.
“Take six right now.” She shook six pills into my clammy palm and watched me chase them down with water. “And six twelve hours from now.” She looked at her watch. “So set your alarm for four am.” She shook the paper bag at me teasingly. “And being careful can be fun. Some of these even glow in the dark! ”
Wow! Just yikes. Trust me, nurses are usually not so peppy. How does the patient know the “brown paper bag” is full of “brightly colored condoms”? Can she see through brown paper? I digress.
Problem: What’s really wrong with this passage is the patient instructions. The author makes it clear in the novel that the patient is taking the Morning-after pill. There are two such pills. One by the same name and the other is Ella. Neither pill has such a dosing regime. Both are one pill only. That’s it.
I honestly don’t get the point of writing something so ridiculous that is so easily researched.
More seriously, this nurse’s teaching is cringe worthy. I don’t know a nurse on the earth who would talk about condoms glowing in the dark. How about having a serious talk about contraception? How about having a serious talk with a fourteen-year-old girl who is having sex and how she feels about that?
So much more should have been done for this girl in this book by these medical professionals that it was truly disheartening to read. Why? Because this is not the impression I want any woman of any age to expect when they interact with a medical professional about something as important as this.
Writers and authors everywhere— please, do better. Your words educate those we interact with as patients and this is not the impression we want them to have. I’m only asking for one, redeemable, medical person. Make all the rest awful— you have my permission.