Maria Miller’s abortion stance means she’s no friend to women

Zoe Stavri argues that the women's minister's focus on reducing the abortion time limit is either misguided or disingenuous.

Lowering the abortion time limit is a key flashpoint in ongoing attempts to chip away at a woman’s right to choose. Politicians and commentators alike will periodically propose that the abortion time limit- currently at 24 weeks- should be reduced to 12, or 16, or 20 weeks.

Among proponents of this is the recently-appointed women’s minister, Maria Miller, whose voting record shows support for reducing the abortion time limit. She has also clarified her position in an interview, saying if the issue came up she’d vote for a reduction of the time limit again.

Miller’s role in government is supposedly to prioritise women’s issues in government. However, her views on the abortion time limit are anything but pro-women, and should not be prioritised as they are actively harmful.

UK abortion law currently allows women access to abortion at any time up to 24 weeks, though the vast, vast majority of abortions carried out take place 3-9 weeks of gestation, with only 1.4 per cent being carried out at over 20 weeks.

This reflects advances in helping women access abortion quickly and safely. However, on average, there is still an average waiting time of 2-4 weeks between seeing a doctor and getting an abortion on the NHS.

This waiting time can easily make the difference between a legal and an illegal abortion, and would be exacerbated were the time limit to be reduced.

The fact that Maria Miller focuses on reduction of the abortion time limit rather than further improving women’s access to abortion suggests she is either misguided or disingenuous. To support women, you must support the choices they make about their own body, whether it’s something you approve of or not.

The last thing we need is greater restrictions on access to abortion: we need greater freedom and greater support to allow women to make choices concerning their own bodies. This isn’t what Miller stands for. Because of this, she is no friend of women, and unsuitable for her position as women’s minister.

The new Minister for Women and Equalities, Maria Miller. Photograph: Getty Images
Getty
Show Hide image

A swimming pool and a bleeding toe put my medical competency in doubt

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Sometimes the search engine wins. 

The brutal heatwave affecting southern Europe this summer has become known among locals as “Lucifer”. Having just returned from Italy, I fully understand the nickname. An early excursion caused the beginnings of sunstroke, so we abandoned plans to explore the cultural heritage of the Amalfi region and strayed no further than five metres from the hotel pool for the rest of the week.

The children were delighted, particularly my 12-year-old stepdaughter, Gracie, who proceeded to spend hours at a time playing in the water. Towelling herself after one long session, she noticed something odd.

“What’s happened there?” she asked, holding her foot aloft in front of my face.

I inspected the proffered appendage: on the underside of her big toe was an oblong area of glistening red flesh that looked like a chunk of raw steak.

“Did you injure it?”

She shook her head. “It doesn’t hurt at all.”

I shrugged and said she must have grazed it. She wasn’t convinced, pointing out that she would remember if she had done that. She has great faith in plasters, though, and once it was dressed she forgot all about it. I dismissed it, too, assuming it was one of those things.

By the end of the next day, the pulp on the underside of all of her toes looked the same. As the doctor in the family, I felt under some pressure to come up with an explanation. I made up something about burns from the hot paving slabs around the pool. Gracie didn’t say as much, but her look suggested a dawning scepticism over my claims to hold a medical degree.

The next day, Gracie and her new-found holiday playmate, Eve, abruptly terminated a marathon piggy-in-the-middle session in the pool with Eve’s dad. “Our feet are bleeding,” they announced, somewhat incredulously. Sure enough, bright-red blood was flowing, apparently painlessly, from the bottoms of their big toes.

Doctors are used to contending with Google. Often, what patients discover on the internet causes them undue alarm, and our role is to provide context and reassurance. But not infrequently, people come across information that outstrips our knowledge. On my return from our room with fresh supplies of plasters, my wife looked up from her sun lounger with an air of quiet amusement.

“It’s called ‘pool toe’,” she said, handing me her iPhone. The page she had tracked down described the girls’ situation exactly: friction burns, most commonly seen in children, caused by repetitive hopping about on the abrasive floors of swimming pools. Doctors practising in hot countries must see it all the time. I doubt it presents often to British GPs.

I remained puzzled about the lack of pain. The injuries looked bad, but neither Gracie nor Eve was particularly bothered. Here the internet drew a blank, but I suspect it has to do with the “pruning” of our skin that we’re all familiar with after a soak in the bath. This only occurs over the pulps of our fingers and toes. It was once thought to be caused by water diffusing into skin cells, making them swell, but the truth is far more fascinating.

The wrinkling is an active process, triggered by immersion, in which the blood supply to the pulp regions is switched off, causing the skin there to shrink and pucker. This creates the biological equivalent of tyre treads on our fingers and toes and markedly improves our grip – of great evolutionary advantage when grasping slippery fish in a river, or if trying to maintain balance on slick wet rocks.

The flip side of this is much greater friction, leading to abrasion of the skin through repeated micro-trauma. And the lack of blood flow causes nerves to shut down, depriving us of the pain that would otherwise alert us to the ongoing tissue damage. An adaptation that helped our ancestors hunt in rivers proves considerably less use on a modern summer holiday.

I may not have seen much of the local heritage, but the trip to Italy taught me something new all the same. 

This article first appeared in the 17 August 2017 issue of the New Statesman, Trump goes nuclear