The bitter old Vermontese cali primitive's just being her usual hateful self here.
Men do have to go through such things.
When I shattered my right elbow the morning of January 20, 1993--while walking out of a coin-and-stamp store--three days were spent making sure I was giving my "informed consent."
(The condition of the now-absent elbow couldn't get any worse, and was reasonably stable, which is why there was so much time to decide.)
The physicians and the surgeon outlined for me three options. Money was no object; this was in the good old days just before Hillary started tampering with medical care, and because I worked for an insurance company, I had great insurance; everything 100% covered.
I opted for the cheapest, most primitive "fix," while the surgeon suggested the most elaborate, most expensive fix, and the physicians, either that or something in between. I was pretty adamant about it; I wasn't going to have any artificial materials inserted inside of me that would inevitably deteriorate and have to be (expensively) replaced later on.
I insisted they just salvage what was there naturally, and I'd accept, adapt, and move on if there were now any limitations to my use of the arm (as it turned out, there never were).
Medical advice and counsel was that, well, the option I wanted would save the arm, but little else, and these other two procedures were better.
Three days were spent being sure I was aware of the risks, and that I was freely giving my own informed consent.
It later struck me that in most places, a woman can go into an abortion mill and have an infant murdered, in just minutes.
<<<strongly in favor of a waiting period for abortions, so as to be sure one's giving voluntary and informed consent.....just as with less-important surgical procedures.
