Lieck beat her cancer with chemotherapy and radiation. But memories of the experience have made her and husband Ed staunch supporters of a controversial Texas law that mandates vaccination of all sixth-grade girls against four strains of the human papillomavirus (HPV), two of which can cause cervical cancer. About 10,000 women are diagnosed with cervical cancer each year in the U.S., and 4,000 die from it. In addition to the new law in Texas, similar proposals are being considered in more than 20 other states. "This is the first time in history we have a vaccine that can prevent cancer, and ultimately save the lives of thousands of women," says Texas Governor Rick Perry's spokeswoman Krista Moody.
But an uproar has erupted in Texas and beyond over the use of the vaccine on girls as young as 9. HPV is a sexually transmitted disease, so proponents say the vaccine that prevents it must be administered before the onset of sexual activity, ideally among young girls (although men, too, can become infected with HPV). But for a wide range of critics—from conservative Christians to parents worried about possible side effects of a new vaccine—the idea of compulsory vaccination is intolerable. Ellen Rossini, 46, development director for the Catholic Pro-Life Committee of North Texas, says she and her husband oppose the vaccine for their two daughters, Julia, 15, and Maria, 9, on moral grounds: "The message for girls is quite clear—that sexual behavior is expected. It's as though [vaccine supporters] are expecting young girls to carry condoms in their purses."
Marketed under the name Gardasil, the vaccine (manufactured by Merck & Co., Inc.) was approved for use by the FDA after more than four years of testing. According to Laura Koutsky, a University of Washington epidemiologist and expert on HPV infection, test data on the vaccine so far suggest that it is as safe as other widely used inoculations, but that only time will tell for certain. "Based on what we know, the probability of adverse effects beyond five years appears to be low," says Koutsky. "But can we rule that out completely? No."
Parents across the country have bristled at the idea of government making sensitive decisions about their family's health. Indeed, a backlash against the push for a mandatory cervical cancer vaccine is already taking shape. On March 14, more than two-thirds of the Texas House of Representatives voted to rescind Perry's executive order—enough, if the state senate follows suit, to override a possible veto from the governor. Dr. Lois Ramondetta, an oncologist at the University of Texas M.D. Anderson Cancer Center in Houston, sees a silver lining in the debate: "With vaccinations and annual exams, cervical cancer is a totally preventable problem," she says. "No matter what happens, the best thing about this controversy is that it has already raised women's awareness."
THE GUSTAFSONS
AUSTIN, TEXAS
Jan and Danny Gustafson of Austin, whose three children include daughters Millicent, 12, and Lillian, 5, welcomed the news that a vaccine had been developed to protect against cervical cancer. But Jan, a part-time horseback riding instructor, and her attorney husband had already made the decision not to vaccinate their oldest daughter—or at least, not yet—before the governor's mandate. If the Texas law withstands opposition and goes into effect, the couple may choose to opt out. "We just don't want to rush into anything," says Jan, 42. "Since it's a new vaccine, we want to give it time and not let our daughter be a guinea pig. After all, she is just 12, and we are confident she is not having sex."
The subject has already come up for discussion with Millicent. A girl on her swim team had the vaccination—a series of three shots over six months—and asked if Millicent would be getting it too. "She understands that there are behaviors that would put her at risk for the virus," says Jan. "She also knows we're choosing not to vaccinate her because we think the vaccine is too new to trust." Jan's hope: "That the governor will let parents be parents and make this decision for their children without intervention."
THE LIECKS
ANAHUAC, TEXAS
"As parents, our responsibility is to protect our children," says Cheryl Swope Lieck, who plans to vaccinate her daughter Allison, 12, and eventually Cameron, 8. Lieck, 40, understands why parents might feel uncomfortable giving their children a vaccine for a disease that is sexually transmitted, but as a cervical cancer survivor, she feels strongly that the life-saving benefits trump other concerns. "Am I teaching my kids abstinence? Absolutely. Do I think abstinence is the main way to prevent HPV? Absolutely. But what are you going to say to women who get HPV from their husbands, even when those women were virgins when they married?"
THE ROSSINIS
RICHARDSON, TEXAS
Ellen Rossini, 46, and her husband, Carl, 50, send their girls, Julia, 15, and Maria, 8, to Catholic schools. "Our daughters are being raised in the moral tradition of chastity," she says. Rossini views the effort to vaccinate sixth-graders against HPV as an attempt to eliminate a potential consequence of sexual activity before marriage—an attempt, she says, that isn't necessary in her family. "Julia has a purity of heart and confidence that practicing moral traditions will lead to true happiness—chastity, followed by monogamous marriage. It's not a dream. Her dad and I have lived it."
Saved by the Bell Reunion
The hookups, the meltdowns, the memoires
The case reveals what was really going on what they think of each other now!
