By the time I got to the Planned Parenthood clinic to begin my Reproductive Health Externship I’d seen about a dozen first trimester abortions at a private clinic close to my school. “No sweat,” I convinced myself, remembering how underwhelmed I’d felt the first time I saw the procedure. To my surprise there was no great epiphany, no anxiety at seeing a ruptured gestational sac sitting in the backlit glass pan, no knee-jerk morality of disgust creeping in, nada. All that was left was plenty of time to wonder about what the woman was planning on doing now that she wasn’t pregnant anymore: “Day one of the rest of her life,” as many providers said.
However, while observing the first few procedures in my RHE with a wonderful provider and teacher who’d taken me under her wing, suddenly the focus shifted. Outside the OR, she picked up the patient’s folder, turned to me, slammed it into my hands. The quarter inch thick manila patient file looked and felt like an anvil dropped by Wiley Coyote, my confidence pancaked beneath.
When I started medical school, I knew I wanted to be involved in abortion care and reproductive health rights. I didn’t realize how quickly (and happily) I’d be swept up into the pro-choice world via our local MSFC chapter. When I went to the national Medical Students For Choice conference in second year, I wanted to meet other pro-choicers, learn from providers, and learn from students; I had no grand expectations. I also didn’t realize that just by asking questions during the sessions I’d land a direct RHE mentor’s invitation.
Procedural Notes
Back in that OR, I was sweating as I failed to fit into a pair of medium sized gloves, knowing I was already slowing the flow for the PP staff (keep a close eye on those large boxes of gloves, future male providers of America). What happened next? I was taught thoroughly, step by step. No sighs of frustration from my provider-educator like I’d come to experience during my surgery rotation.
That first night I went back to where I was staying, and over a well-deserved beer, pasted a PP sticker into my journal that read “We Are Planned Parenthood.” Feeling on top of the world, I crossed out the “We Are” and wrote “I Am.” I felt empowered, finally. No more ego beatings by exams, no more memorizing lists of things only not to be asked about them, but instead real questions from my physician-educator that were relevant to the care of real people. And there was work. Wonderful, life altering, empowering, gritty, dirty, and ultimately cleansing, work. It resulted in no more anxiety inside her head. No more unwanted masses of cells or organs sucking her steadiness and her future away.
That feeling of sheer terror during the first handful of cases faded, and turned to concentration, which turned to concentration sprinkled with enjoyment. Plus, now having worked with or observed five different providers, I’ve picked up different lessons and tricks from each. I obviously have many more cases to do before I’m a proficient provider, but I’ve already begun a few habits I know I’ll keep with me. One is checking in in the recovery room with each patient just to say hi and ask how they’re feeling. They’re usually pretty drowsy, but when they deny any bad cramping, give me a big thumbs up and flash a smile, my own anxiety becomes the pancake beneath anvil of satisfaction that I’ve rarely ever felt in any aspect of my life. It’s a very difficult time for some women, and when I’d occasionally have one that would lean over, sleepy eyed, and tug at my scrubs just to say “thanks” as I exited, I was thrilled. (It’s worth mentioning that in my experience, not even most women appear to be in distress, so this has become a myth I’d like to dispel. Most women are far stronger than even they give themselves credit for.)
Lying To Return
At this year’s MSFC National Conference on Family Planning I was surprisingly and happily adorned with an “Extern” ribbon on my nametag along with others who’d done the RHE, and it proved to be more question-tropic than I’d expected. I aggressively spread the good word like an evangelist spirit finally dropped into the right body. Indeed, my feelings about the RHE can be summed up in the following fact: Though I’d already seen the 50 required medical and/or surgical abortions, I lied. My provider-educator asked “so will we see you again? I know it’s a long drive for you, especially on the weekend. Are you done with the RHE?” “…Naw, I’ll have to see y’all a few times this fall to finish up.” Return I have, and return I shall. Plus, to ensure the experience continues, it’s a favor I’ll be paying forward. Indeed in a small way I already have: in the wake of my experience, I gave a lunch lecture on surgical and medical abortion methods which was wonderfully well attended, an event I hope every RHE’er does at their school. Lastly, if you’re a pre-med and reading this, perhaps one day you’ll get to have me patiently looking over your shoulder just as I was taught. And then you’ll pay it forward, just as you’re taught. The circle will continue and spur growth everywhere, from family practices to other private clinics, Planned Parenthoods, and hopefully into hospitals. The RHE helped normalize and demystify abortion for me, and I will help normalize abortion education for as many others as I can. I look forward to seeing you in the clinics!
-Will, 2013 MSFC extern
