Disposable menstrual products pose a tremendous threat to the health of our environment in both their production and

disposal. But what about the cost to our own health? 

by Susan Crawford Beil

When I was 14 and my feminine hygiene products just “magically” appeared in the bathroom cupboard, I didn’t pay much attention to how much they cost, how they were made, or what health risks they posed to me and my environment. I was just glad they were there and hoped no one noticed I was wearing them. As I’ve grown up and have had to pay for my own menstrual products, and have become more conscious of my own and my planet’s health, I’ve given the matter more thought.

When I turned 30, I was no longer able to wear tampons because of severe vaginal irritation, and I began to wonder about the safety of tampons altogether. When I turned 31 and had my first child, I was confronted with the health and economic costs of disposable diapers, which led me to further question the health and economic cost of my own disposable menstrual products. When my period returned, I actually tried using my contoured cloth diapers (thin, pear-shaped, with a doubler sewn into the middle) for pads and discovered that I loved them! The cotton felt so much better against my skin and I didn’t get that “clammy” pad feeling I had grown accustomed to with my disposable pads. As for washing, I just threw them in the diaper pail and washed them up with the diapers. And what a joy not to be buying pads every month!

In addition, other tampon-related troubles have been documented, from metal fragments found in tampons, to tampons falling apart and shredding in the vagina, as well as abdominal cramping and urinary tract infections. Plastic applicators, said to be the “smoother,” more comfortable choice, have sharp edges known to lacerate the walls of the vagina during insertion. Cell peeling and tiny ulcers within the vagina have also been associated with tampon use.

One thing tampon boxes are good at, however, is warning us that using their contents can put us at risk for a most horrible disease known as Toxic Shock Syndrome (TSS). I remember reading these warnings as a teenager and not feeling terribly worried. I mean, fever, rash – I’ve had those before and have been fine. Possible death – they can’t be serious!? Well, when I read Liz Armstrong’s Whitewash and came across some of the stories of women who either died or were severely injured by this disease, I was in my own state of shock. Consider this account:

In June, 1989, seventeen-year-old Alice Corman-Dunn of Sarnia, Ontario, was rushed to hospital severely ill with a high fever, vomiting and diarrhea. She died the following day after suffering cardiac arrest and lapsing into a coma. Doctors testifying at the coroner’s inquest. . . said that the cause of [her] death was a bacterial infection that led to an acute inflammation of her internal organs. They further stated that Corman-Dunn died of menstrually related toxic shock syndrome.