Child of Their Convictions
This is a formal complaint I made only about 5 or so years ago to a hospital in Nevada.
Date of Service 2/15/1979
Though my complaint with Nevada based Catholic Hospital begins over 39 years ago, I am going to flash forward to a day about 10 years ago in a hospital setting of a GI lab as I prepared for an endoscopy and colonoscopy. To set the stage, I unfortunately have poor choice of veins for venipuncture and IV access. I did have a small IV placed in my hand and was subsequently given drugs of Versed and Demerol a little while prior to my procedure, the combination was supposed to have an amnesiac effect, then a nurse, who obviously had no knowledge of the potential damage to vessels of phenergan or didn't care...a sad truth I have realized for 35 years, instilled the Phenergan, an antiemetic, into my vein very quickly which blew out my vein. I was taken to the lab and the procedures began, I heard the doctor instruct 'more Versed', as I was fighting the endoscopy fully awake and aware of everything around me. There was more than one nurse infusing more Versed, more Versed that had no affect what so ever. I continued to fight as the doctor and several nurses physically restrained me. The endoscopy ended and I could finally speak, my doctor was a colleague of mine that I had worked with for many years and thought the world of him as I practiced as a registered nurse there at the same hospital. I told him my IV was gone, that I was not sedated, and that I was rescinding my permission for the remainder of the procedure to continue. He reassured me it would me over soon as he assumed I was under the influence of Versed and instructed the nurses to administer more Versed and Demerol and restrain me. The scope then entered my rectum and into my colon and I felt excruciating pain as he forced forward the scope into what would later be diagnosed as a contourted tortuous colon, in other words, there was a 'kink' in my colon that would not allow him to advance the scope any further yet he tried and tried and tried. I screamed out in horrific pain and then it came......a memory I never knew existed, I was suddenly on the side of a couch as I looked at a black and white 'checkered' floor pattern of some room below me where I was being sodomized forcefully. I had always knew that I was raped at age 13 but had not remembered the details until they came flooding so quickly into my mind within the short time my Dr. was forcing the scope into my colon. All the pain of a brutal vaginal rape and being forcefully sodomized came back to me in detail that very instance. I lived through the procedures to be left with the memories that had been brought to the forefront of my mind. A little while later, 27 mg. of Versed was absorbed into my system subcutaneously as it had escaped my vein. I was rescusitated but not before I had bottomed out my blood pressure to near nothing and lost vital blood supply to my brain. I was left with injuries that I still struggle with today, both pysiologically,physically and mentally. This incident set into motion a series of attempted suicides, psychiatric hospitalizations, physical rehab, hormonal imbalances, positional debilitating vertigo, memory rehab, and intense psychological and psychiatric treatment which is still very much still a part of my life today. I lost my ability to practice nursing, I became sociophobic, and a complete basket case for lack of better words. I was a mental mess. I would say it's hard enough to have been born with a mental challenge and live to accept it as your way of life, unaware really, of a difference because you never knew any difference. But I can say with certaintey, that it is harder still, to suddenly be aware of acute mental incapacities and psychological challenges, not to mention the physical challenges.
I have spent nearly 8 years seeing my psychiatrist and receiving counsel through my psychologist on an average of every 3-5 weeks ever since, sometimes more often, depending on my coping abilities of new problems as they are introduced into the equation. I see my psychiatrist every 4-6 weeks to manage many psychotropic medications such as mood stabilizers, anti anxiety medicines, etc. that keep me controlled psychologically. I am disabled as a result of this. Much of my therapy has included an experience I had at a Catholic hospital over 35 years ago and some unpleasant experiences with a Catholic home for unwed mothers just prior to that which led me to give up a child up for adoption.
As a virgin, at age 13, I was brutally raped and became pregnant. I was a child, I had no idea I was pregnant until I was nearly 6 months pregnant when I came to Las Vegas to reunite with my mother and new step father. She immediately took me for evaluation and it was determined that I was 6 months pregnant. Experiencing a near nervous break down herself, she left my step father in control who quickly found a Catholic home for unwed mothers. They provided me with room, food and medical care in exchange for the adoption of my child. I was left without a choice and no other choice was offered to me. As a child, I wouldn't have known what to do with a child of my own, so I just did what I was told, by now I was 14 years.
On February 15, 1979, I entered into St. Rose de Lema Hospital in Henderson, NV at full term pregnancy and in labor. The only memory I have of giving birth was hearing myself scream louder than I knew I was capable of and an intense feeling of pain, and looking back, was most likely in shock. My mother was told that it was not Catholic practice to provide pain relieving measures to a female giving birth out of wedlock. I am uncertain if I received anything or not.The days that followed is what I am trying to get around to. Because of the care I received there, I have hated the Catholic religion and stereotype any Catholic I meet. Over these 35 years, there has been ALOT of media coverage of unfortunate negative discoveries within the Catholic practices, including the actions of sisters, priests, the pope and so on. Every single time I would hear these things, my hatred only grew as I imagined the cynacism a poor victim most likely received as a result of wrong doing by a member of the Catholic practice.
I remember waking up in a hospital room and I was alone. Most likely my step father had rushed my mother back home and I was lonely, afraid, and uncertain of what had happened and what was yet to come. I have and have always had the memories of the care I received there. I was crying in pain and needed some comfort from one of your nurses; I didn't know what my options were or that pain medicine even existed....I simply was a child that needed any source of comfort I could find. When I told her I was hurting 'in my stomach' very badly, she replied, 'You should have thought of that before you got pregnant'. Now tears are on my face in this moment I am writing you. Another time, I was bleeding so badly and had never experienced the weakness I had, If I simply tried to raise my head, I would faint again and again. I had no strength. I had been laying in a puddle of blood for at least 12-16 hours. I was embarrassed and didn't know what to do. I managed to gain the courage to tell the nurse that my bed was bloody and there was a pad on my private parts that had been wet all night along with my bed. I had started my period at age 11 so I recognized a feminine napkin and was use to wearing the kind my mother provided me that 'strapped' on so to speak. The nurse layed a napkin on the table next to me and left. I tried several times to not only remove the old pad but to think further ahead as to how I was going to place the clean pad at least on my private parts as I continued to lay in the wet, cold saturated sheets of blood. I was simply too weak to even try to raise up my bottom that was stuck to the wetness in order to remove the old pad. Sometimes later, either the same nurse of another nurse came in. I had no idea there was a 'call button' so I just layed there waiting for the next time I would see a nurse or any human contact. I told that nurse what I was experiencing. Rudely she replied, 'that's something you're going to have to do...get up out of the bed and go in the bathroom and change to a clean pad. I tried to tell her I was too weak. She insisted on assiting me to a sitting position and my ears began to ring and my vision went blind as I was fainting. I awakened on the floor with several nurses lifting me to put me back into the bed that was still wet, however, at this point was in the process of initiating a bed change. Some how, I had a clean pad on shortly there after. Each nurse was sarcastic, judgemental and so rude and uncaring. Sometime that next day, what I thought was a Nun, and I guess I still think that, entered my room; she wore a robe and a habit around her head and neck. She asked if she could pray for me. I was raised as a Methodist Christian and thought all religions were basically the same. Of course, I welcomed the prayer. The prayer began harmless enough until she began to pray for my sins of being pregnant out of wedlock to be forgiven and prayed that I should repent and confess those sins to escape damnation. Those are not the exact words, but the jest of it went on for some time and I began to feel ashamed and guilty without knowing why. As a rape victim, I still feel that way even today, but am trying to find ways of healing. The Nun left me with horrible feelings about myself and I began to believe I had done something horribly wrong and that's why I had been sent away from the sanctity of my mothers arms and into a home for unwed mothers and wondered if I had been left there for good uncertain of my future. My mother did arrive to visit that night and I was relieved but couldn't tell her all that had happened to me. The next day a nurse appeared at my door without coming all the way inside with a baby in her arms. She asked me if I wanted to see the baby. I cried not knowing what that even meant...was that mine? what would happen? what do I do? She said that since I was 'giving the baby away' that it was probably best if I didn't see the baby. I asked her if it was a boy or a girl. She told me it was a girl. I asked her what her name was, not really having idea of how the naming of a baby worked. She told me I could never know that because I was giving her away. I do not remember one kind nurse in that hospital. I have been fair and realistic in my recollection of that hospitalization and while I have forgiven so many other obstacles surrounding the huge snow ball effect of that rape, I have not forgiven those nurses. I can still hear their degrading words so clearly. I can still see their faces that I have no names for. I wonder if there is even one of those nurses still alive that would care if I told her how much she hurt me. I doubt it. But still feel intensely as though I need to face them all and tell them, though I realize that is not realistic to happen.
When I had another child of my own ten years later, I realized clearly what I had given up and the joy a child brings. I became a caring mother, and was motivated by the negative treatment I received by your nurses to become a nurse myself. I NEVER said one cross word to any patient in my 19 years of practice. I was an excellent caring successful nurse, mother, and wife. I had over come so much until the incident I mentioned earlier that caused my world to collapse on me. Because of the joy of my child, I became obsessed with finding my daughter when she came of age when if and when she was registered with the National Adoption Registry in Carson City, NV. She had registered there and so had I but because of one incorrect computer entry, that I feel confident was intentional so as to ensure we would never be properly matched, we were never matched. I called the adoption agency for information, they would offer little in the way of information because of the law. One Catholic "sister" there remembered me clearly, as the family that received my child, it turned out, had also adopted 2 more children in a similar manner but would not help me yet to tease me with the idea that she knew where she was. I obtained a lawyer and it was discovered that I signed the adoption papers alone, without a guardian or parent and the adoption, was therefore, unlawful. It gave me the ammunition to gain information that the Catholic Adoption Agency had in their possession. Either early on or near that time, the records reflected completely false information on both myself and that of my child that could have lead to a reunion. The threat of a law suit that I never pursued was enough to give me information that I thought was factual but lead me no where and my daughter and I found out that the information had been altered in order to 'mislead' us in finding each other we would later discover. Out of 163,000 adoption registries on the internet at the time I was searching for 'anything', I registered at every one I came across with the FALSE information given to me by , yet again, more Catholics. My daughter, Sara, was indeed looking for me as well and at 18 years old had registered nationally, which, let me remind you, failed us, and with only about 10 online adoption registries. I came across one of them.Every profile I looked at lead me no where....after all, the information I had to go by was nothing like what I was seeing in these registries. Without going into a great detail of how the power of God intervened and lead me to a profile that seemed totally unlikely, yet I was drawn to it over and over until my instincts lead me to rule it out. It was my daughter. We were reunited and it was wonderful. She came to Alabama from Nevada to live with me for several years and we were very close. Her CATHOLIC adoptive father had molested her as a child, she informed me, so there was more guilt for me to bare. Another reason to hate Catholics. That event is a whole other amazing story within itself.
Over all, I came to despise Catholic people, practices, religions, news, hospitals, schools, followers, offenders, congregations, movie subjects involving any Catholic role. I literally hate it all. It is eating me still. I have come a very long way in spite of those hard ships and as a Christian with a strong faith know I should find some way to forgive the whole mess, but I have failed to do so all these years. In therapy, I have slowly 'faced my fears' and learn how to cope again as I did before the memory of the rape details and all that followed. I cannot find a way to let this go. At nearly 54 years old, I have not figured it out.
I don't know what I expect from you. 'Sorry' would mean very little coming from others who were not there in that place at that time so it seems hopeless to find a path to closure. I just thought that if perhaps I revealed these things, perhaps my story could be considered to be cause for change if it has not already occured so that it would never happen to anyone else. In my mind, I feel very strongly that your nurses still share the same criticism and ridicule of others that I experienced. Perhaps, I can somehow make a difference to others in the same situation. I cry again as I remember how so very cold and isolated I felt and how horrible the actions of those nurses were. They were just mean to me. My perceptions of their actions as a child have legitimatelly carried over to my adulthood where as I feel righteous in continuing to have the same perception which was clearly factual no matter how old you are. As I said, I have been both fair and honest in my feelings during that time period and have allowed myself to see it for what it truthfully was and it was so unkind, so harmful, so devastating to the rest of my life, and still. I hope you can find some compassion in my experience and share it with others that might impact at least one innocent 14 year old little girl. One child. That's what I wish for. In that respect, it would be healing for me to know it. Just one if not many.
I thank you for taking this very long time that you have to read this and comprehend what probably has come across as a scattered mess to you. There is so much more but it would take you a few days to read, so I will leave it at this. Just thank you for listening, Linda
1/6/2018 Update: Through therapy and the grace of God, I have learned to forgive and move on with my life for the most part. I realize that not all Catholics are like the ones I encountered and there are good ones. I am more mentally healthy and am thankful for all I have. I was told a few years ago after I wrote to the hospital that my story, is shared in the orientation process of that hospital to caregivers in training to make them aware of the impact they can have on a persons life.
Comments