(no subject)
“Are you going to press charges?” the triage nurse snapped at me.
Honestly, at that point in time, that wasn’t something that I had given much thought, and the very idea of going to court and meeting with lawyers was enough to induce an anxiety attack.
“Um, I don’t know” I responded.
“Well, it’s going to be your fault when he attacks someone else.” She shot back.
I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I thought my middle class upbringing, my high SAT scores, and the fact that I was 18 years old and already accepted in medical school was some kind of shield or immunity. And him, he seemed like a nice guy; a graduate student at a top notch university in New York City. Yet, here I was, alone, sitting in a crowded hospital in the middle of Washington Heights, completing a rape kit.
I was placed in a private room in the pediatric ER. I waited for the resident who was assigned to my case. I was staring at the wallpaper of elephants with balloons tied to their trunks when she entered the room. She looked young, and tired, and her stethoscope had a cute plush dog attached to it. She was quick with her history and exam, and rushed out of the room. I didn’t see her again
While, I understood that working with an 18 year old girl isn’t what most people imagine when they dream of pursuing a career in pediatrics, I still felt terrible, and ashamed.
After getting a couple of tests done, and a shot of antibiotics, I was sent home. However, this was not something that ended when I left the hospital six hours later. It took a lot of time for me to accept what happened that day, almost 4 years ago. And although terrible, this experience has changed me for the better. It has made me a lot more understanding, and a lot less quick to judge other people. I understand that the world isn’t as black and white as I had once thought. I now know what type of doctor I don’t want to be. I respect the trust that patients have in me, and that is something that I do not take for granted. I know that it is my responsibility to learn the material taught in class to the best of my ability, because some day someone’s life will be in my hands. I also learned that sometimes the best thing you could do for a patient is give compassion and a little bit of your time.
Honestly, at that point in time, that wasn’t something that I had given much thought, and the very idea of going to court and meeting with lawyers was enough to induce an anxiety attack.
“Um, I don’t know” I responded.
“Well, it’s going to be your fault when he attacks someone else.” She shot back.
I couldn’t believe this was happening to me. I thought my middle class upbringing, my high SAT scores, and the fact that I was 18 years old and already accepted in medical school was some kind of shield or immunity. And him, he seemed like a nice guy; a graduate student at a top notch university in New York City. Yet, here I was, alone, sitting in a crowded hospital in the middle of Washington Heights, completing a rape kit.
I was placed in a private room in the pediatric ER. I waited for the resident who was assigned to my case. I was staring at the wallpaper of elephants with balloons tied to their trunks when she entered the room. She looked young, and tired, and her stethoscope had a cute plush dog attached to it. She was quick with her history and exam, and rushed out of the room. I didn’t see her again
While, I understood that working with an 18 year old girl isn’t what most people imagine when they dream of pursuing a career in pediatrics, I still felt terrible, and ashamed.
After getting a couple of tests done, and a shot of antibiotics, I was sent home. However, this was not something that ended when I left the hospital six hours later. It took a lot of time for me to accept what happened that day, almost 4 years ago. And although terrible, this experience has changed me for the better. It has made me a lot more understanding, and a lot less quick to judge other people. I understand that the world isn’t as black and white as I had once thought. I now know what type of doctor I don’t want to be. I respect the trust that patients have in me, and that is something that I do not take for granted. I know that it is my responsibility to learn the material taught in class to the best of my ability, because some day someone’s life will be in my hands. I also learned that sometimes the best thing you could do for a patient is give compassion and a little bit of your time.