Grace

Die Geschichte einer Überlebenden, die nicht zum Schweigen gebracht wurde

Ich weiß noch, wie ich nach meiner Mutter schrie, aufsah und die Tränen in ihren Augen sah, als eine andere Krankenschwester sie aus dem Zimmer schob. Ich hatte die ganze Zeit keine Ahnung, was passierte, ich war so klein – alles, was ich wusste, war, dass es höllisch weh tat und dass das medizinische Personal wütend schien, weil ich so reagiert hatte.

I remember my mom picking me up from kindergarten in the middle of the day, and telling me we were going to the doctor. Being little, I had no clue what for, and was happy just to get to leave school early to be with my mom. Once we got to the hospital, I remember being instructed to strip down and put into a hospital gown, and placed on a bed. The nurses told me it wouldn’t hurt, and before I knew it, I was in agony. I remember thrashing and screaming while the nurses and doctors pinned me down, begging them to stop because it hurt so badly. It felt like I was being stabbed in the urethra, and someone was twisting a knife inside me. I remember screaming for my mom, looking up, and seeing the tears in her eyes as another nurse shuffled her out of the room. I had no clue what was happening the entire time, I was so little - all I knew was that it hurt like hell, and the medical professionals seemed angry that I’d reacted the way I did. I lived so much of my life feeling like I was the problem; after all, this was supposedly a “painless procedure”… right? I understand now how deeply rooted this trauma has been on my body. After dealing with a sexual assault and UTIs later in life, I still struggle with intimacy and hypertonic pelvic floor dysfunction. My pelvic floor regularly spasms to the extent of it being painful, and feeling like I need to urinate even when my bladder isn’t full. It is a hell that I wouldn’t wish on anyone. My inability to fight back during my assault lives with me, just as being pinned down by adults as a child does.