MOLLIE B.

For my entire life, I have believed that there was something deeply wrong with me. I had no idea what it was, but I knew that there was something. I had a long list of symptoms, none of which seemed connected at the time. I begged and pleaded with every doctor and specialist my parents brought me to, “Please tell me what is wrong with me.” The answer was always the same, that there was absolutely nothing wrong with me and that I was searching for something that simply didn’t exist.

After being dismissed by dozens of medical professionals, I set out on a quest to discover what had happened to me. If they couldn’t help me, then I would do it myself. It started when I was a college freshman, and my most prevalent symptom at the time was Vaginismus. It was very soon after my OBGYN refused to give me the Vaginismus diagnosis, which was “the straw that broke the camel’s back.” I decided to ask my college roommate to psychologically analyze me. We were both 18 and neither of us had any medical training, but I was desperate for answers. I spent over an hour answering her questions and by the end, she finally found something. At this point, my best guesses were: Hormonal Imbalance and Brain Tumor. I felt excited to finally find an answer, until I saw the look on her face. I braced myself for the worst as she asked me one final question; “Mollie, were you sexually assaulted as a child?”

I was shocked. I told her that it was wrong, I had no memory of ever being assaulted as a child. I asked her why she would say that, and she told me that I matched nearly every symptom of a Childhood Sexual Abuse victim. I refused to believe it, the test must be wrong. This bothered me so much that I completely buried the issue for months.

Over a year later, I decided to restart my search for answers. I finally gained the courage to tell my parents about my symptoms, specifically about my Vaginismus. I had been searching for the answer my entire life, I needed to know the truth. What the hell happened to me? On February 9th, 2021, I finally learned the truth. All it took was one sentence from my mother, “I wonder if any of this is because of the VCUGs you had when you were little.”

I had no idea what a VCUG was, so I googled it. I found hundreds of articles from credible hospitals and huge medical organizations, and every single one said the exact same thing. The VCUG is safe, painless, and risk-free. Once again, I thought that I hit another dead end. I almost gave up my search, but something in me told me to push just a little bit further. So, I decided to search for one last thing: “VCUG Trauma”.

The results were staggeringly different. There were dozens of articles about the VCUG, and more specifically, how the VCUG test can cause symptoms similar to CSA. I found a group online, full of people who also underwent the test. I read their stories for what felt like hours. I felt sick to my stomach, I felt dizzy and disoriented, I felt like I was dreaming. Every single story sounded exactly like mine, to an eerie degree. I couldn’t believe the things I read, it felt like I was reading my own journal. It felt like I was reading about myself.

I was devastated. I was angry. I was unbelievably sad for myself and all the other children who went through this. I was disgusted with the medical system for allowing this to happen. But, I was also relieved because I finally found an answer and suddenly, everything in my life began to make sense. My Vaginismus, my fear of doctors, my fear of medicine, my eating disorder that I had since I was a young child, my stunted growth, my panic attacks, my unexplainable medical conditions, and the ~2 second long memory I had always had that I believed was just a nightmare. I was watching myself from the corner of a dark room, I was watching myself in horrible pain at the hands of the doctor next to me while I screamed. I thought it was a bad recurring dream, but in reality, it was the only memory I had of the VCUG.

I started to dig into my medical history, I wanted to know more. How many times did this happen? Where did this happen? Who did this to me? This task became extremely difficult when I discovered that every single record of my VCUGs were destroyed, minus one single sheet of paper. It was an email between my pediatrician and the radiologist who did my final VCUG, stating that my VCUG was negative. One single email was all I had.

I was able to piece together most of the story. I was 18 months old when I had my first kidney infection that landed me in the hospital. I underwent my first VCUG shortly after which revealed that I had Grade II VUR. My doctors told my parents that annual VCUGs were safer than corrective surgery. My parents asked about the complications from VCUGs and were told that the test was extremely safe, had no complications, and that there was no chance I would ever remember. They let my mother be there for the first test, and then they refused to let her in for the next three. I took antibiotics throughout those four years to avoid another kidney infection. At the age of 4 (my final VCUG), my VUR had resolved itself. My parents thought the worst of it was over. They told me that they noticed a difference in me following the tests, I became very afraid of doctors and I became very afraid of my genitals. I stopped eating, I would throw away my food when no one was looking. I stopped growing, causing me to fall 2.5 years behind on the growth chart. I stopped speaking, my speech pathologist determined that I could speak English quite well, I chose not to.

I underwent intensive therapy following the discovery of this trauma, including a year of EMDR. When I found out, I was in a suffocating depression that consumed every part of my life, and it took years to recover. The trauma that was caused by my VCUG had a devastating impact on my life and destroyed my childhood. It took over 2 years before I was ready to finally speak about it, coincidentally it was right before I met Shelby (Our Founder) for the first time. After meeting Shelby, and all the other survivors in our group, I knew that I could not sit back and allow this to continue. I decided to join Unsilenced and fight for change, because all of the children who went through this test deserved better. I think about their parents too, and the guilt that they carry for allowing this to happen. They consented to a safe procedure that doesn’t exist, they were lied to and they deserved better too. I think of my own parents too, who were lied to by several doctors, all of whom my parents deeply trusted.

We all deserved better.