Sometimes Clichés Contain Many Many Truths

Warning: a for-subscribers-only rant lies ahead

You’ve heard the expression, “Don’t judge a book by its* cover”?

You’ve heard the expression, “If you don’t have something nice to say, don’t say anything at all”?

I’m usually allergic to clichés. When I teach writing, I emphasize the importance of using fresh, original, and interesting language.

At the same time, these two clichés are quite apropos of what we’ll be talking going on a little rant about today.

Staying up all night to save Oregon’s children from government overextension

In 2015 I didn’t sleep for weeks. Lawmakers in Oregon had proposed a bill to abolish vaccine choice in the state. That bill, SB 442, proposed to exclude any child from both public and private school who was not fully vaccinated.

Instead of sleeping, I joined forces with other concerned parents and healthcare providers, including medical doctors, to fight to kill the bill: I called and wrote letters to lawmakers, traveled five hours each way to the Capitol for in-person meetings, attended rallies in Oregon and California (where parents were fighting a similar bill), organized and spoke at public forums, published op-eds and helped others learn how to write them, and met with religious and other minority groups who also opposed forced vaccines.

My husband and I were both fully vaccinated as children.

Before having a baby ourselves, neither one of us had given the CDC vaccination schedule much thought. I certainly wasn’t skeptical about vaccines. Why should I be? Like everyone else, I believed without any question that childhood vaccines were a feat of modern medicine. Like antibiotics and seatbelts, they’d saved millions of lives.

Why would I possibly doubt the efficacy or necessity or safety of vaccines?

Vaccinating a newborn against a sexually transmitted disease? Not on my watch

Then I had a baby. Our first was born in 1999. A nurse came at me with a needle. “Time for her hepatitis B vaccine,” she chirped.

Pause the game.

Vaccinate a newborn?

Against a sexually transmitted disease?

No thank you, ma’am.

Every cell in my distended and bodily-fluid-smeared self was on a mission to nurture this new life.

Giving a vaccine to a tiny baby with sticking out ears and legs still bent like they were when she was curled up inside me seemed abusive, not protective.

We refused the hep B vaccine—I demurred by saying we would talk to the pediatrician about it—and started researching. We ended up vaccinating the children, judiciously, on a science-forward schedule which was decidedly different from the CDC’s.

So when Oregon lawmakers announced they wanted to curtail vaccine choice and promote school exclusion as a way to force parents to comply, I wasn’t having it.

Those were feverish, difficult, and stressful months. I was juggling a full-time job, caring for four children, running a household, and fighting prejudiced lawmakers who treated unvaccinated and partially vaccinated children as if they were dangerous walking vectors of disease.

Meeting Dr. Paul

Dr. Paul Thomas and I first met during this time. We both shuttered our respective businesses for the day and testified in Salem, Oregon against SB 442.

I was impressed with his testimony. He gave every lawmaker an inch-thick packet of information and explained to them earnestly why some of the CDC’s recommendations were misguided. He was articulate, rational, and intelligent. The crowded room was as silent as a forest before a hurricane. Everyone listened.

I drove back to Portland not long afterwards so Dr. Paul and I could sit down and talk in person. We quickly realized that we both wanted to write a book about best pediatric health practices and vaccine safety.

That’s the backstory to how our book, The Vaccine-Friendly Plan, was born. It was published by Ballantine in April of 2016.

This book is not “anti-vaccine” but it is decidedly “pro-parent.” It covers everything from why you should never give your baby or small child Tylenol to how to talk so your teens will listen and listen so your teens will talk.

It’s a book that has saved many marriages, helping parents rid their households of toxins, talk to each other about vaccines, have the tools they need to stand up to doctors who try to bully them, and raise healthy, happy kids.

It has 4,238 reviews to date on Amazon; 92 percent of which are five star.

“This was so helpful for me in making decisions regarding vaccinations,” wrote one reviewer named Joanne less than two weeks ago. “So informative. I have recommended this book to every other pregnant mom I know.”

“I came with an open mind and left with super useful information,” wrote another. “It’s important to think for yourself and not allow others who say they are smarter think for you. There is logical sense to consider as well.”

“This is not just an anti vaccination book which made it great for both my husband and I,” wrote a third. “His family is basically no vaccination but without anything to back up what they're saying. My family and myself were not against vaccines. I started questioning them after my 2 year old got shingles a month or two after having the chicken pox vaccine.

“This book explains which ones a necessary or which ones to wait on or doing a delayed schedule. It talks about a lot of other things as well. Like Tylenol being bad and what to try instead.

“It's a great book for anyone who is against vaccines or is questioning them and wants more information.”

All of which brings us back to the clichés and to the bulbous-nosed wart-ridden trolls.

Trolls or just disparagers on FacePhooey?