WARNING; THIS POST CONTAINS SUBJECT MATTER THAT MAY BE DISTURBING TO SOME PEOPLE.
It has been in the back of my mind to write about this ever since I began this blog. I have told very very few people about this, or at least the entire story. But I still cry when I think of it. I have deep lingering sadness that has been with me for years and years. But I know, if I write about it, it might ease my heart. So here goes:
I almost died when I was a teenager. I awoke one morning very very very sick. My dad took me to the doctor, Dr. Brezing, who immediately sent me to the hospital. I was hemorrhaging internally, and hemorrhaging badly.
Back then, they did not have the diagnostic tools that they have now. As a result, they could not find the cause of the hemorrhaging. They hooked me up to all kinds of tubes, and IV drips. The pain was unbearable.
I was in the hospital for three months, from June to September. Most of the time, I was not conscious. I would open my eyes and it would be daylight and somebody would be sitting in a chair next to my bed. The next thing I knew, it was dark and my dad would be sitting there. Once in a while I would open my eyes and watch fluid of some sort drip, drip, drip, either into or out of my body. all the while, the pain was there and it was bad.
They put me on morphine which dulled the pain for a while but then it stopped working. I still asked for it tho because it made me feel like I was flying and the pain was secondary to the high. But I was a smart little girl and I told the doctor what was going on and told him to take me off the morphine, which he did.
About a month into this I asked the doctor if I was going to die. He told me that it was a possibility. And I was filled with wonder because I wasn't frightened; I jut wanted the pain to go away. If I died, it was okay as long as I didn't hurt any more.
Then one day, I was lying there and a doctor I didn't know came into my room. At this point I was used to doctors wandering in and out of my room, examining me. This doctor gently pulled down my covers...and then he sexually accosted me. As sick as I was, I didn't know what was what and I remember wondering if he was just examining me. But my senses told hold, and I asked him what he was doing. And he stopped and left my room. As he opened my door to leave, Dr. Brezing entered, and they chatted briefly and it was obvious that they were acquainted. I was so confused. I couldn't figure out how that doctor could have really done this bad thing to me if he knew my family Doctor. I was really confused.
Eventually, I had a five hour exploratory surgery during which they found the source pf the problem. (I am not ready to talk about that, but it was bad.) I healed physically, with time.
I have a scar, both physically and emotionally. The physical scar has faded a lot and isn't all that bad. The emotional scar never healed.
If you have read all of this, I thank you; I NEEDED to write about it. I do not want to die with this unhealed. I have gone all these years without telling more than a couple folks because I felt ashamed. I felt dirty. I felt it was my fault. And you know what? I am letting that all go, right now, right this minute by writing about it here.
It was NOT MY FAULT.
Week Three Summary
3 years ago