work

I come home at the end of a busy day and Mr G asks, "How was work?"...

"Busy. Nothing special..."

I saw a young woman who had been assaulted over the weekend. She met a guy at a bar, and after drinking and partying together, invited him back to her place. After a while, she asked him to leave and he got angry and beat her until she was unconscious.

I assessed her for skull fractures. She had a perforated eardrum. Her eyes were swollen shut by bruising. The rest of her injuries are too specific to mention, but they were extensive.

I documented everything carefully, and offered to give her copies of the documents for the police.

"Oh, I'm not going to report it. I know how it looks. I was drinking, I invited him home."

I said to her, "You know, inviting someone to your home doesn't mean they are allowed to beat you or hit you or physically harm you..."

But I didn't push. I didn't insist on calling the cops.

Because she's right. I couldn't say to her, "The police will help you. The police will be on your side. You will get the justice you deserve."

I know she's right. I know how it looks. She will be told that because she invited him in, she brought this upon herself. She was drunk. She was high. She didn't call the cops immediately. She waited 24 hours to come in to hospital. She is a woman who was assaulted by a man she knew.

It's infuriating, but the only thing I can do is be a good clinician. I offered her social work, I offered her pain medication. I treated her wounds and got her some clean clothes. We made arrangements for her follow up. And I repeated to her that her records would be on file, if she ever decided she wanted to report this.

As she left, she thanked me and said, "Usually the doctors aren't so nice..."

But, alas, when Mr G asks me, "How was work?" I would still say, "Busy. Nothing special." Because this is a totally normal experience in Canada in 2016.

I am so angry. All the time.