In a classroom at Westheights Public School in Kitchener, Ont., nurse Mary Hall swabs the arm of a Grade 8 pupil, preps the syringe and runs through her checklist. Feeling well? Yep. Allergies? Nope. Not pregnant? Giggle, no.
“Do you know what this is for?” she asks casually. “For breast cancer?” the girl in the chair guesses.
“For cervical cancer,” Ms. Hall corrects, not for the last time that morning. “Do you know where your cervix is?” She drops her glance, pointedly: “Down there.”
The girl turns her head away from Ms. Hall, and dramatically mouths the word “ouch” when the needle goes in. In the hallway outside, the next batch of 12- and 13-year-olds in ponytails and sneakers are packed onto a bench, as if awaiting detention. They are too stressed to talk, and a few are about to burst into tears – a lot of nerves for a vaccine that may spare them from a life-threatening cancer.
But that's how young they are, which is why parents across the country are now hurriedly researching, debating – and sometimes rejecting – the wisdom of lining up their daughters for the needle.
On this day, nearly all of the 72 Grade 8 girls at Westheights will receive the HPV vaccine – a drug that studies show will give them immunity to a sexually transmitted virus that could some day grow into cancer. The school is one of the first in the country to begin administering the vaccine. Over the next few weeks, however, girls in specific grades will be offered the drug for free – with parental consent – in the rest of Ontario, Nova Scotia, PEI and Newfoundland. The rest of the provinces and territories have either delayed their programs until next year, or announced no decision.
For many Canadian parents, the vaccine program is controversial. It was rolled out in lightning speed after Ottawa announced a $300-million funding package for participating provinces. If it lives up to its potential, the vaccine will significantly reduce the incidence of a cancer that on average kills more than one Canadian woman every day, and often leaves those who survive infertile. According to trials, the vaccine, marketed by Merck Frosst Canada Ltd. under the name Gardasil, provides nearly full immunity to four types of the human papillomavirus, which causes 70 per cent of all cervical cancer and 90 per cent of genital warts.
For many parents, it's a no-brainer: Anything that will protect their daughters from cancer, even one of the more uncommon types, is worth the risks. But at the same time, mothers and fathers are grappling with a fear of side effects, questioning the motives of a drug company that stands to make big profits and politicians who may be pandering for votes, and feeling a certain queasiness about dosing girls as young as 10 years old with protection for an STD. At the very least, the needle is making for some interesting – and awkward – family conversations.
They don't have long to mull it over: Once those consent forms come home this month in the four provinces with a program, families will have days to send them back. Adding stress to their decision is money. Parents who decline the school-based program and then change their minds, or choose to wait until their daughter is older, will have to pay for the vaccine themselves, if they don't have private insurance plans that cover it. That's roughly $400 for three doses over six months.
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John Sexton of Newmarket, Ont., began researching the HPV vaccine after he took his basketball-crazy 13-year-old daughter, Erika, to the doctor with a knee injury, and the physician recommended she get it.
“My first thought was there was no way I wanted to be dealing with this,” says the teacher and single dad, who has a son and two other daughters, aged 15 and 20. “At 13 and 15, you like to think your kids are pretty innocent. And this is not something you want them to have to worry about. And yet, as soon as you have a chance to reflect on it, you think, ‘Hey, this is a different age.' ”
