Best Sources

George, L. (2005, August 30). Taking one for the team. Maclean’s, 118 (36), 36-37.
click here for online article

This article is from a Canadian magazine, and it talks about men warming up to the idea of male hormonal contraception. The author touches on the biological hurdles with developing such a treatment, and also possible (more like probable) negative side effects that are extremely discouraging. However, despite all that, she insists that men are willing and wanting to have another contraceptive option so they can have more control over reproduction. I'm definitely going to use this to support my argument that male hormonal contraception will be effective and accepted.

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Glasier, A. F., Anakwe, R., Everington, D., Martin, C. W., van der Spuy, Z., Cheng, L., et al. (2000). Would women trust their partners to use a male pill? Human Reproduction, 15 (3), 646-649.

I really liked this study because it looked at women's perspectives on the issue. Women in four cities (Edinburgh, UK; Hong Kong, China; Shanghai, China; and Cape Town, South Africa) were surveyed about how they feel about current birth control options, possible use of hormonal contraception by their male partners, as well as demographic information. The distribution of the survey to the four cities was to gain perspectives of women from different racial backgrounds and cultures. Overall, women were unsatisfied with current birth control options and felt that women were the ones being burdened. The majority also said that they would consider having their partners use male hormonal contraception, and therefore, that they would trust their partners to use it effectively. This is additional support for my argument that male hormonal contraception is good for both the medical world and society.

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Liu, P. Y., Swerdloff, R. S., Christenson, P. D., Handelsman, D. J., & Wang, C. (2006). Rate, extent, and modifiers of spermatogenic recovery after hormonal contraception: an integrated analysis. Lancet, 367, 1412-1420.

I liked this study because it focused on the reversibility of male hormonal contraception rather than the effectiveness. This is important for helping ease any apprehensions one might have about this method. The authors make an important point, which I intend to mention in my paper, that male hormonal contraception is going to serve as an intermediate option between the current choice of condoms (advantage: reversible; disadvantage: not as effective) and vasectomies (advantage: highly effective; disadvantage: not reversible).

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Mommers, E., Kersemaekers, W. M., Kepers, M., Apter, D., Behre, H. M., Beynon, J., et al. (2008). Male hormonal contraception: A double-blind, placebo-controlled study. Journal of Clinical Endocrinology & Metabolism, 93 (7), 2572-2580.

In my opinion, this is the most important trial on this topic because it was the first large-scale, placebo-controlled study. It was a phase II efficacy trial, which is indicative of significant progress in this area of research. The trial tested two types of ENG implants (low-release and high-release) coupled with various doses of testosterone undecanoate (750 mg in 3 mL every 12 weeks, 750 mg in 3 mL every 10 weeks, and 1000 mg in 4 mL every 12 weeks). The placebo groups received both a false implant and false injections. The most effective methods were the high-release implant with testosterone administered by 750 mg in 3 mL every 10 weeks, and the high-release implant with testosterone administered by 1000 mg in 4 mL every 12 weeks, 93% and 95%, respectively. This article is probably the most important one I have that deals with the scientific prowess of the treatment, so I predict that the majority of my argument for the medical aspect will come from this paper.

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Potts, M. (2003). Two pills, two paths: a tale of gender bias. Endeavor, 27 (3), 127-130.

This was an interesting article because it compared the different histories of the Pill and Viagra. I was aware of Viagra being labeled "the miracle drug", but I had no idea the Pill had undergone so much scrutiny. The author brings up a fascinating possible explanation which he calls a "gender bias" based on the primitive belief that men should be the ones in control of reproduction. I'm going to use this article to introduce some of the social aspects associated with male hormonal contraception.

Research Topic

I want to write about the new methods of contraception that are being developed for men. So far, I know that there is something called a "dry orgasm pill" and also a shot that work to prevent pregnancy in different stages of the sperm cycle. I plan on centering my paper around the pill but will introduce the shot, probably in the comparison section. Here is how I plan to organize my paper thus far:

Possible title: Sexual Revolution: The Male Birth Control Pill

Research question: How does the male birth control pill compare to other forms of contraception and how will it impact society's views on sexual responsibility?

Hypothesis: The introduction and utilization of the male birth control pill will further help prevent unwanted pregnancies and balance the paradigm of contraception responsibility between the sexes.

Honestly Helping

2012, the year I was supposed to finish pharmacy school. I was going to be a 24 year-old “doctor” with a six-figure annual salary and the white coat to go with it. I started college at Northeastern University in Boston in the six-year, only get one summer off, alternate between class and work, drowning in debt by the end of it, PharmD program. Not many of those exist anymore. Pharmacy school has become just like medical school, four years of school after your bachelor’s, leading to a professional degree. So when I found out I could shave two years off of school, I went for it, pretentiously. For the entire first semester, I was sure this was what I wanted to do. I even joined the professional pharmacy fraternity to start my networking. I liked being in the major that everyone thought was the school’s pride and joy; it did a lot for my ego. But the motivation behind wanting to be a pharmacist was hurting my conscience.

During the second semester of your first year, you're required to take this one-unit class called Profession of Pharmacy. Everyone from your class level in Pharmacy is in it with you. All I remember about it is working too hard for only one hour credit. It made me miserable, but it also became my turning point. At the beginning of the semester, the professor randomly asks students, "Why do you want to be a pharmacist?" and the generic answer was, of course, "I want to help people." That would have been my answer too, had I been called on, but I knew I was just like everyone else once I stepped out of the classroom, talking about how much money I was going to make. There's nothing wrong with being motivated by money, I just began to feel it wasn't right to hide behind more admirable ambitions. A few weeks later, my doubts about the motives behind going into pharmacy were virtually confirmed. The professor gave a lecture on the benefits of pharmacy practice with two keys points: a competitive salary right after graduation and no direct patient contact. There was the money again, and it would have bothered me more if I wasn't so taken aback by the second "benefit." Even though helping people had become the secondary motive, it was still important to me. No amount of money can justify a career with no personal fulfillment. Were we really going to able to help people without direct contact? No, not in my eyes. What made it even worse was that this distance should have been seen as an obstacle, one needing to be overcome, but instead was considered a perk. The more I learned about pharmacy, the more I felt that that white coat wasn't going to fit.

Sometime during the school year, my West Coast residing parents insisted that I submit a transfer application to the University of Southern California. I had begun the application but put it off for the entire first semester, when I was sure Northeastern Pharmacy was where I wanted to be. After the Profession of Pharmacy epiphany, I made it my goal to finish the application and hope for the best. Over the summer of 2007, I received that big, white envelope with the cardinal folder holding the much anticipated acceptance letter. I had been accepted into the Bachelor of Science in Health Promotion and Disease Prevention Studies program. After figuring out that all those words basically meant the same as public health, I decided to take it, timidly. I wasn’t yet convinced that I was meant for a career in public health.

I came to USC in the fall of 2008 as an HP major but with an emphasis on Pre-Pharmacy. I couldn't let go of the idea of becoming a pharmacist. But this was my sophomore year, the year you're supposed to take the heart breaker of all classes, the killer of Pre-Med dreams, Organic Chemistry. And this was what finally killed my pharmacy dream. I painfully survived half the semester before dropping out. It really is one of those classes where, in order to get through it, you really have to want what's at the end of the road. I didn't want it. I couldn't bring myself to put in all of that work into a course I wasn't sure I would really need. This is when I knew that the white coat, with the PharmD stitched after my last name, wasn't meant to be. It didn't take long for me to get over this realization. It wasn’t even heart breaking, because I had faith in something else. Both my head and my heart knew that my back-up plan of concentrating on my major could actually work out quite nicely. Public health is by no means glamorous, and the paycheck is nowhere near that of a pharmacist's, but these are the attributes that finally eased my conscience. By the end of my education, I could really be in a position to help people, and that is now my foremost motivation for my future career. It is perfect, because I believe if your goal is to help people, then you must try to help the greatest number of people possible; and I cannot think of any other health field that embraces that ideal more than public health.

It's my third year of college and I'm' more than halfway done with my bachelor's degree. Back at Northeastern, the Pharmacy class of 2012 is only one-third of the way through, but in a few months they'll have their white coat ceremony. They'll have an entire, grand event dedicated to them. They'll finally be able to say that they are done with the prerequisites and are taking actual pharmacy classes. I know when I see those pictures on Facebook, I'll rattle off all of the "What if" questions in my head. But the pondering won't last long, because I have much more on my mind. I'm still figuring out exactly which track within public health I'll pursue. I definitely plan on getting my Master's of Public Health degree, but even then, there are so many career paths. Just a few years ago, this uncertainty would have been unnerving, but now, it's exhilarating; and I will continue exploring possible career paths, wholeheartedly. I have no regrets about trading in that white coat for public health, because I believe I'm in a better position to make a difference and be honestly helping.

The End of the Innocence

Title inspired by Don Henley's song of the same name.

It was early 1992. I was four years old and only child at the time. The Navy had stationed us on a small Japanese island, where the beach was never out of sight and a “long trip” meant two hours. It was a great place to grow up, even though the emotional aspect of growing up may have come too quickly.

It was just a regular day at home. My dad was at work and my mom was tending to my usual antics. Nothing peculiar had happened until noontime when I went to the bathroom and found my underwear soaked in blood. Naturally, being four, I associated blood with dying. In sheer panic, I screamed for my mother. I still remember the shock on her face when she walked in, though she quickly erased it and tried to remain calm so I would stop panicking. When I had finally calmed down, she brought me a new pair of underwear and told me to wear a sanitary napkin in case I bled again. She assured me that everything was going to be okay, and that it was all my running around that had caused this. But I could tell that it wasn’t really okay. This wasn’t normal because my mom wasn’t acting normal. She wasn’t in the living room watching her normal shows. She was in the kitchen making phone call after phone call. I would have gone and eavesdropped like usual, but I was told to sit still and for once, I listened.

The next day, I bled again and was taken to the emergency room at the hospital where my dad worked. He met up with us at the emergency room where we waited for a few minutes before being escorted to the ultrasound room. I remember lying on the bed, watching the screen and waiting for some absurd, but obvious, image of disease to appear. Nothing of that sort happened, but the doctor was able to determine that the development of a cyst on one of my ovaries had caused the abnormal bleeding. The cause of the cyst, however, was a mystery.

Upon this discovery, my parents and I were scheduled to fly to Hawaii, where the medical facilities were better equipped to deal with my situation. Almost every day of those two weeks were spent in the hospital. I’d been through ultrasounds, x-rays, and even had an IV in my arm at one point, which I hope never happens again. It was the worst pain I had ever felt, and even though my parents weren’t being prodded, I could tell they were hurting too.

Sometime close to the end of the two weeks, just as mysteriously as it had appeared, the cyst disappeared, and no one could explain why. As grateful as we were for it to be gone, my parents had a hard time dealing with not knowing how and why it had happened in the first place. Without knowing the answers to those questions, they could never really be sure I was back to normal.

Fast-forward sixteen years to the present and my mom still worries about what happened so long ago. I haven’t had another cyst, but she’s insistent on me having regular examinations and doing whatever I can to prevent another ordeal. She worries that this might somehow prevent me from having kids one day, and to be honest, at this age, I worry about that too.

The experience as a whole was bittersweet. There are times when I feel resentful. No four-year-old should have to face that kind of fear. No child’s innocent perspective on life should be shattered by all the tests, procedures, and medical technology that we adults so often associate with (saving, or even giving) life. Disease yields emotions and realizations that only make one grow up too quickly. But in doing so, I was able to appreciate those around me who were so helpful. From my parents, to the doctors, to the medical assistant who gave me a plastic ring, they couldn’t have dealt with my fragile, four-year-old psyche any better. Hopefully one day, somewhere along the public health spectrum, I can be the comforting force to some fragile and innocent child.