courage

It was a session much like any other.  She was in her second trimester of pregnancy, referred to see me because of a screen positive result on her blood test.  It showed an increased risk of Down syndrome in the pregnancy, but the risk was still small.  As a prenatal genetic counselor, this kind of scenario was my bread and butter.  I saw women and couples everyday with the same circumstance.

The couple came in and sat down.  She looked tired and worried.  He was a big guy, standoffish.  We occupied a cramped, makeshift office because the other rooms were tied up.  I did my basic introductions.  I explained her test results, doing my best to convey that while there is an increased chance of a problem with the baby, the likelihood is still very much in their favor that this is a normal, healthy pregnancy.  We started to talk about the option of amniocentesis.

Then, all hell broke loose.  She's crying.  He's yelling at her to stop crying.  She's saying she doesn't want testing, doesn't want to know for sure.  He's saying that she *will* have the test because he doesn't want a retarded baby.   My head is ping-ponging back and forth between them, trying to figure out where and how to intervene.

This was early in my career.  I was a genetic counselor.  I was supposed to help people make reasonable decisions based on a combination of facts and emotion and values.  But this?  This was chaos.

I tried to come back to the facts.  I tried to bring their attention back to me and off of each other, if only for a couple of minutes.  Time to breathe.  Time to calm down and discuss.    Nothing worked.  He kept yelling.  She kept bawling and protesting.  He kept insisting.  It was not getting any better.

I focused.  She was my patient.  Yes, he was her partner, and yes, I respected his opinion.  But ultimately, she was the one who was going to sign on the dotted line.  He was being verbally abusive.  I suspected that since he was willing to go this far in front of a strange professional, home was worse.

I mustered up all the courage I could find and broke in.  I was shaking inside, if not out. 

"Stop yelling.  Stop.  You are being abusive to her, and I won't allow you to continue being a part of this session if you keep yelling," I said, firmly.

He tried to get in one last punch.  "You're having the test, whether you want to or not!" he said through gritted teeth.  The volume of her wails went up another notch.

"I'm sorry, sir.  I can't let you continue.  You'll need to wait in the waiting room until we're done." 

I was looking him directly in the eye.  He was fuming.  I was scared but trying to hide it.  I needed him to know that I meant what I said.

Both she and I sat between him and the door.  I wasn't sure what he might be capable of doing, but I knew there were people right outside the door to intervene if needed.

And then, without any further words, he got up and left.

I exhaled and turned my attention back to her.  I decided to postpone the rest of our discussion until after her scheduled ultrasound.  At this point, the woman needed to see her baby.

He left --  as in, left the hospital.  He missed the ultrasound.  He was her ride.  She called her mom and sister and explained the situation.  She thanked me for defending her.  She found out that her baby looked great and that the test results were incorrect based on a wrong due date.  After all the commotion, everything turned out fine.

Looking back, I can't say for sure whether I made all the right calls.  Sometimes I think I should have intervened sooner.  Sometimes I think I should have tried again to keep him in the discussion.  It's hard to say. My gut feeling told me this was a pattern in their relationship.  I had to trust that, and I felt like I had to defend her when she was unable to defend herself.

Truth is, I made the best decision I could based on where I was at the moment.  And that alone takes courage.

- - - - - -
Prompted by last week's theme of 'courage' at Mama Says Om.

Comments

[Chez Bez]

Goodness. Thanks for sharing. That was beautifully told.

Medical advancements in general have been so phenomenal over time. It's too bad that verbal and physical abuse among people continue as strong as ever.

[Stew]

Wow. It's really hard to deal with such situations. I've had to call Child Protective Services a number of times in the course of my career as a health educator (sex ed brings out the disclosures, I'll tell you!)

The best I've found I can do is follow the procedures set up to take care of the situation and let go. I think I'd go crazy otherwise.

[kelli]

You definitely did the right thing by defending her. It seems like she wasn't capable of defending herself. We are called to do the moral thing. You took it one step further and did the heroic thing. Good for you :0)

[Jamie]

Wow...what a confrontational jerk he was! You definitely did the right thing. That, my dear, took courage.

I had a nuchal translucency screening test with Amelia that showed an increase risk for Down's and we opted to not do the amnio and all turned out just fine. I am thankful for a supportive husband, though, who stuck by me!

[Mama C-ta]

Wow what an awful situation for you, her and the baby. You couldn't have handled it any better and the fact you said "you are being abusive" was awesome. He needed to know that although I doubt it changed anything. I just hope he got some help before their non-"retarded" baby was born. Courage indeed.

[Colleen]

Wow. You handled that gracefully and in my opinion you did the right thing. That woman and her baby will haunt my thoughts, though. I hope they are OK.

[Charmaine]

Wow. That was an intense story. And very well-written, I might add. Kudos to you for taking a stand, Nicole!

[Rachel]

Nicole,
Thank you for posting this story, and for standing up for that woman.

[Kathy T.]

Yikes! I admire your courage and your decision to kick his butt out! VERY glad to hear the due date was wrong.

[Hilary]

I think you did wonderfully. Many women I know who have found the courage to leave an abusive situation do it because of a breakthrough moment such as that. Someone else acknowledging that they deserve better. Good for you.