Caution Mature Content******************************************Caution Mature Content
The hospital. The doctor’s office. Backrooms, exam rooms,
being alone with doctors, asked to lay down. The sexual assault and then the
many medical appointments that followed did not coexist peacefully.
Upon telling my two ‘big brother’ friends what had occurred,
they insisted I go to the police. It felt very out of my control and on the
second day I did. A trip to the ER followed. The rape test. I saved my clothes
to give to the detectives. I remember having to change into a gown, lying still
on a birthing bed, my legs spread apart as the nurse did it all over again. She
had to touch me everywhere he had. Everywhere. And I had to let her. I could
tell her to stop, but then the exam would be incomplete. She took DNA samples
from under my fingernails, up and down my arms, my throat, lips. It took hours.
I just wrapped my arms around my stomach and stared at the wall toning out the
crisis counselor who was ‘there for me’. She called me a few times in the
months that followed to check up on me but I always told her I was fine. I didn’t
live there anymore anyway.
The next appointment I had was in January. I’d hurt my toe
country swing dancing two months prior and the pain hadn’t gone. It wasn’t too
bad. The doctor seemed surprised when I told him I was a theatre major because
I was so quiet and reserved. He seemed to sense something was off with me and
upon asking if he should stop teasing I just nodded.
I had to get an xray of course but ended up laying down on
the table. It was practically the same position as the hospital...
Then the testing began. I was honestly scared. I wasn’t sure
if there had somehow been a way for me to become pregnant. Was that why my
stomach had become worse? I could have passed out for a bit while I was with
him. He could have done so much to me in the two hours that though I remember
even now so clearly, could have been mixed into a blur easily. However a baby
would have shown up in a CT scan especially after two months. It was a relief.
I had to get used to laying down for doctors to do what they
needed again. It didn’t used to be a problem. An ultra sound, a HIDA scan.
I was worried about the scopes and being put under anesthesia.
I’ve heard the stories of doctors raping people and other such things. All went
well however.
Then there was the EKG to check my heart. That took me by
surprise as a male nurse had me lay down and without a thought stuck wires to
my breasts and under my shirt to my bra line. I was very tense during it all,
trying my hardest to relax as he instructed me.
Since the police and working with a detective I was able to
sign a paper saying I didn’t have to go to court, yet I receive updates on the
meetings. I never wanted to hurt him. I never wanted anything to happen to him.
I fear for him, that I’ve ruined his life. It frustrates me that I don’t know
where he is, what’s happening to him.
I had my first panic attack several days after the incident.
I’d blocked his number of course, yet unblocked it to see if I could retrieve
his texts. He’d texted me that night and I’d stopped breathing.
I still get panic attacks at night, being alone in my bed in
the dark. They range from not being able to sleep because I’m remembering to
curling up in a tight ball unable to breathe because I can feel it as if he’s
touching me again. I feel terrible on the few nights I end up texting or
calling a friend to help me through it. I’ve lost friends that way, yet I can’t
blame them. There are things that trigger flashbacks. It frustrates me that my
body and mind takes this so hard even now over nine months later when people
have gone through so much worse and hardly bat an eye.
I’ve worked through counseling, I’m dating again, slowly my
life is returning to a form of normal that I must now accept. Because this is
never truly going to go away. This is my trauma that haunts me as others have
their own.
I want to share this out in the open. What I’ve gone through,
knowing that so many others have gone through the same and worse. Know that you’re
not alone. Know that everyone gets through things differently and everyone has
different reactions to things. Know that the third ‘f’ is usually forgotten:
Fight, Flight and (freeze). Know that it wasn’t and is not your fault. I’m
still trying to convince myself. Most importantly know that someone will love
you when the time is right. Someone who will be willing to face your past with
you as it portrays in the present and future. Stay strong, amazing.
