Sunday, April 14, 2013

Shredded pieces of Abuse...


Last year I had to go to UMC quick care for a Urinary Tract Infection (UTI) and a possible bladder infection.  One of the perks of having MS, I can get a UTI and not realize it until it’s at its worse.  The waiting room was packed.  I waited, and waited, and waited some more.  After a few hours I was brought back to see a doctor.  I explained my problems to the nurse, she was very sweet, and she instructed me to wait for the doctor. 

I waited, and waited and waited some more.  The doctor came in and instructed me to unbutton my jeans so he could examine me.  A little weird but I did as I was told. 
“Lie back on the table.” 
Again I did as I was told…
The doctor grabbed at my jeans at the waist and tried to tugged them down.  I moved his hand aside and lowered my jeans.  He did the same thing again. 
“I need to properly examine you and see if you’re having any belly pain.”
            “I’m not, but I can pull them down if you need me to.”
The doctor proceeded to press down on my belly.  Then he grabbed the waist band of my panties and tugged on them to pull them lower.  I lightly smack his hand and pull them down to expose more of my stomach.  He does the same thing again.  This time he pulled the band about three inches away from my stomach and caressed the inside of the waistband.  I move his hand to the side before his hand could touch me. 
           
The shredded pieces of the g-ma chonies I wore that day.  



               “I can do it.”
“Fine, sit up so I can listen to your heart and lungs.  You were complaining of an earache also?”
            “Ye-yess.”
“Your left ear is fine, we’ll clean out the right one for you.”
His hand lifted the back of my shirt as he put the stethoscope on my back.  I instinctively jerked forward.  He then asked me to breathe in deeply and then again.  He put the stethoscope on my chest next.  I felt this fingers and palm on my left breast. 

I don’t get what just happened. 

“I’ll be back in a few with the results of your urinalysis.”

I sat in disbelief.  The doctor returned thirty minutes  later with a more cheerful demeanor. 
“You have a bladder infection all right…” 
He continued to ramble and something changed in me. 
“Do I have to sign something?  Can I get a prescription so I can go?”
“Umm…okay, I’ll prescribe-“
“Okay are we done here?”
“The nurse will be in shortly with your discharge papers.”

The doctor left, the nurse came back and I kept getting angrier and angrier at myself. 

Today I would react differently.  I was a much weaker version of me at that time.  I’ve been in therapy for over a year now and I feel stronger.  I’ve heard people use words like courageous and brave when referring to me.  I kind of like it.  Maybe I am courageous and a little bit brave too.  I have many issues with past abuses that I’m dealing with.  At times I compare my past to others and think stop whining it could have been worse.  I’ve learned that it’s unhealthy to compare abuse and if it was a big deal to me, then I need to deal with it so I can move on at some point. 

Every doctor, with the exception of this one, has always talked me through the examination step by step.  They’d ask me to lift my shirt so they can listen to my lungs.  When checking my heart through my chest, I’d feel the stethoscope and they held it carefully, never to touch my skin, and apologize if they did.   If , on rare occasion, they needed to have me lower my jeans to check my belly, I was always asked to do it and I’ve never, ever had a doctor take such inappropriate liberties.  Fuck you.  Fuck you for violating the trust of a patient.   Fuck you, fuck you, and fuck you.  

One day I'll work through my issues with men.  I can't fear all men because they aren't all to blame for what I've endured.  This stronger me won't let anything like that happen again.