On the gurney lay a young woman the color of white marble. The red pool between her legs, ominously free of clots, offered a silent explanation.
"She arrived a few minutes ago. Not even a note." My resident was breathless with anger, adrenaline, and panic.
I had an idea who she went to. The same one the others did. The same one many more would visit. A doctor, but considering what I had seen he could't have any formal gynecology training. The only thing he offered that the well-trained provers didn't was a cut-rate price. If you don't know to ask, well, a doctor is a doctor. That's assuming you are empowered enough to have such a discussion. I was also pretty sure his office didn't offer interpreters.
I needed equipment not available in an emergency room. I looked at the emergency room attending. "Call the OR and tell them we need a room. Now." And then I turned to my resident. I was going to tell him to physically make sure a room, any room, was ready when we arrived, but he had already sprinted towards the stairs. He knew.
Read the entire account here: Anatomy of an unsafe abortion.
Required reading in this year of presidential elections in America, in which so many candidates would have us return to the dark era in which abortion was illegal. Outlawing abortion doesn't end abortion, it just makes scenes like this more common.
And here's a follow-up post worth reading, by Dr. Gunter.
(thanks, @Scanman / image: Shutterstock)