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By Miriam Grossman, M.D.
Cybercast News Service
September 12, 2007
Hoping to be a parent or grandparent some day? Then you'll want to eliminate plastic wrap, canned fruit, and CDs from your life.
According to the August issue of Vogue, those everyday items are linked to the current epidemic of infertility, because they contain chemicals like BPA and phthalates.
It would seem that the warming of the globe is leading to the cooling of the ovaries.
"The future of our species depends not just on our buying organic strawberries or carrying a canvas bag to the farmer's market," the article advises. "The fertility of our children ... hinges on changes we must make to our immediate environment, the very places in which we live."
Bravo to Vogue for bringing to our attention the increased rates of infertility in both women and men. Warning the public of possible causes is mandatory, even when it results in-to use the author's terms-feeling paranoid or freaking out.
"It's easy to feel as if your life has been invaded by chemicals, as if there's almost nothing you can do about it," the author laments. "You want your daughter to just grab a water bottle as she leaves for a bike ride; you don't want her to freak out by telling her that she could be risking her chances of someday becoming a mother."
Well, hold on a minute. Parents anxious about their daughters' reproductive health have more compelling matters to worry about than the theoretical risk of toxins migrating from a plastic bottle to the water it holds, the liability of the chemical industry, and the lack of appropriate EPA regulations.
I, for one, would pay more attention to who my daughter is hanging out with, and what activities they've planned. I'd be more worried about the proven risks from an exposure to chlamydia than the speculative dangers of polybrominated diphenyl ethers.
And I'd wonder why there are inaccuracies about the hazards of infection with this bug in the sexual health campaigns designed to educate and protect my daughter. She's told yearly testing will detect chlamydia trachomatis infection, and antibiotics will cure it. That's true ... sometimes.
There are nearly a million new cases of chlamydia reported every year, and the highest rates are in girls ages fifteen to nineteen. But the actual number of infections is probably more than twice that number. Chlamydia is part of the "hidden" epidemic—a term used by the Institute of Medicine ten years ago, to describe the state of STDs in the U.S.
In most cases, chlamydia infection is silent. My daughter would have no symptoms, so she'd wait, say, six or 10 months until her yearly exam. But during that time, the bacteria would be busy, quietly traveling up to her fallopian tubes. If they aren't eradicated by a good dose of Zithromax, and they're able to settle in at their destination, a subsequent scar might obstruct the tiny canal, placing my daughter at risk for infertility and life-threatening ectopic pregnancy.
We're not certain how long it takes, following exposure, for chlamydia to cause permanent tubal damage. We do know however, that once it reaches that location, it may be impossible to eradicate. So even if my daughter follows standard women's health guidelines, is tested yearly, and completes a course of antibiotics, it may not help. The damage may have already been done.
And as if that's not enough, chlamydia exposure can cause miscarriage many years later. And that's with or without past antibiotic treatment.
Isn't this information at least as frightening as Vogue's concern about air fresheners and rubber duckies?
With online health experts encouraging young people to experiment and explore their sexuality, Vogue may want to address the dangers of our hook-up culture in a future issue.
There's just one problem. Blaming environmental toxins for infertility is PC, but emphasizing personal responsibility and the hazards of casual sex is not.
Let's just say, I'm not holding my breath.