Clorox bottle

Today is Saturday and the image of a large clorox bottle has been burned in my mind since Thursday. I went out to Virginia to shadow my CAP physician while he worked at a women's clinic for the afternoon. I knew before hand what type of clinic this was, but I really did not realize just how this visit would affect me.

In summary, I saw nine abortions in the span of an hour and a half. Virginia law allows only first trimester (12 weeks) abortions. I believe the District of Columbia allows abortion up into the second trimester. The latest term I observed was 11 weeks and 2 days.

I will not go into too much detail here just because I do not feel like reliving that 2 hour span just yet. My CAP physician is an amazing individual, I must say. After the day was over, we had a recap session and he asked me if I had any questions. Of course I had a million questions at this point, but I filtered my questions to just those I won't be able to find on my own. This narrowed it down to one important question, which centered around how he felt after doing his first abortion on a woman and how he deals with it emotionally patient after patient. I asked this because almost every woman was crying during and after the procedure was done. Their tears may have initially been spawned by the brutal clamping of the cervix but may have been exacerbated by the finality of their decision with the last pressure sucking sound of the vacuum. Do you know that sound a vacuum makes when it is struggling to suck up an object from the carpet or floor and then when it finally gets it up through the tube and the object makes its way into the vacuum container, it makes that strong pressure releasing sound? Now imagine me intently observing my CAP right behind him and underneath the hot lamp waiting to see what was to come out of this woman and into the clear vacuum tube. It was as expected. Slowly at first, clear fluid came out and then bright red blood and then a dark red mass. The pressure within the tubes then increased to get the large dark red mass into the vacuum container. The sound I was describing earlier happens right before you see the dark red mass. I'm assuming this dense material was the target of the vacuum tube. Finally, a quick dip into the clorox bottle to disinfect the tubes from HIV and other viruses and the switch is turned off from the vacuum.

I just could not help but imagine myself in the place of any of these women and how this two minute procedure could change the course of their life. I understand that abortions are necessary to give women options. Like my CAP physician says, "Everyone makes mistakes but I'm not that person to make them live with that mistake for the rest of their lives. I give them options." I'm still contemplating on his words as I think about the events of that Thursday afternoon.

The problem here is not understanding the necessity of abortions in women's health. It's more my problem in dealing with them emotionally. I imagined myself in the place of these women, but I also imagined myself not being able to go through with it. I also imagined myself as my CAP physician and turning the machine off before I inserted the tube into the cervix of the patient.

But I'm trying to reason this out. I want to go into public health. I feel that my education teaches me to be objective and to see it from my patient's point of view regardless of how I may feel about the situation. This is a conflict...a conflict between what my brain tells me what is right and what my heart and soul says is right.

I see a young girl who may have just finished high school and may not have the resources to rear a child on her own and I see how this procedure can help her situation because who knows? She may be on her way to college or she may be one of the sole earners in her household and may not afford for another mouth to feed. Whatever the reason, there is one. But... all my little heart sees at this point is the little 11 week fetus with a head and hands and legs and feet all on a petri dish submerged in clorox.