Immediately After My Assault - The Hospital

I am going to describe the 16 or so hours immediately after my rapist released me so that others who make the choice to report their rape can know what to expect. Please keep in mind that I am not going to give a step by step procedure simply because I don't remember the details.

When I was released I wasn't simply shown the door that led to my freedom. Instead he drove me to the street in front of my house and opened the side door to the van then pushed me out onto the ground. I wasn't given the chance to put my clothes on and was shoved out onto the ground naked. In all honesty I didn't know where I was at as he drove away and when I fell on solid ground I was surprised. He told me several times that he was going to throw me into the Ohio River and let me drown, and I believed him. After I fell to the ground I stood on my hands and knees for a few seconds and waited for him to finish me off. Instead, I heard his van drive away and I turned to look just in time to see him drive around the corner several houses down the road. Suddenly I realized he was gone, I was free, and still alive. I began to look around and it dawned on me that I was home, that was my house no more than 100 feet away. I picked myself up off the ground and ran into the house where dad and my little sister Aimee was sitting on the couch. I screamed for my dad as I burst in through the door. I have never seen my dad get to his feet as fast as he did, and the way he took charge was somewhat comforting. Dad grabbed a blanket that we keep on the back of the couch and wrapped it around me and then he told Aimee to go into my room and get some clothes for me to wear. The first thing dad said to me was, "Everything is going to be okay now". It was also the thing I needed to hear the most at that moment. Dad and Aimee had to help me get my sweat pants and t-shirt on because I used the last bit of strength I had left to run into the house.

Dad didn't ask a lot of questions as he drove us to the hospital. I didn't think much about it at the time as to why he wasn't asking questions, but I was glad that he wasn't. I don't think I could have answered any questions in the immediate few minutes. I think dad only asked one question and it was, "Are you okay?" When I started writing this I couldn't remember what my reply was or even if I made a reply, but I asked dad about it and him and I talked for several hours. Dad said that I didn't give a verbal answer, nor did I nod my head. Dad said that I signed the word "no". I only know a few words in ASL (American Sign Language), "no" is one of them. Dad on the other hand knows ASL because some of his family is deaf. I sort of remember dad calling the police, but the memory is kind of clouded. Dad told me that he called 911 and told them that he was on the way to the emergency room because of an assault and severe injury. They wanted to know the nature of the assault but dad didn't really know how to answer but he told them that the police needed to be there.

There was a nurse with a wheelchair waiting by the emergency entrance when we pulled up. I was wheeled into an examination area where the only thing separating me from other patients was a network of curtains. The nurse began to ask me what happened to me, but I was unable to get any words to come out of my mouth. I don't remember dad saying this, but he told me today that he told the nurse that I may have been sexually assaulted. I do remember the nurse asking me if I was sexually assaulted, and I sort of remember nodding my head yes. Dad told me that the nurse told him that we would be moving to a private examination room. I don't remember her saying that, but I do remember being wheeled into a room that had four walls and a door, it was a private room, and it was the first time I remember feeling the slightest bit safe in more than 23 hours.

A different nurse who is specially trained to talk to sexual assault victims came in and asked me if I was sexually assaulted. She said I had to tell her "yes" or "no" so that they could know how to proceed. "YES" was the first word I spoke after he released me. The nurse asked me if I was filing a report or just needing medical attention. Dad told her that the police have already been called and that they were on there way. Out of all the things I remember one of the most vivid memories I have from the hospital is the sound of dad's voice as he was answering questions for the nurse. Most of the questions at this point were routine and consisted of my name, age, medical history, etc. Some of the other questions were, "Was you raped? Do you know who raped you? How long ago did it happen? Have you showered or bathed since the rape? I had trouble answering these questions. My mouth simply refused to work, but somehow I managed to answer. Dad's voice cracked while he was talking to the nurse. She asked dad to step out into the hallway with her for a minute. I looked at my dad and he knew I didn't want him to leave. He grabbed my hand and told me that he would be right back and then he walked out with the nurse. I have really good hearing and I could hear what the nurse was saying to my dad. At the time I was a little angered by the nurse for telling my dad that he needs to be strong, he needs to hold it together, and he needs to be brave for me. It felt almost as if she was scolding dad because he cared about me. I know now that the nurse did the right thing. She knew that I needed dad to be a solid foundation for me so that I could be strong. My dad told me when we was talking about all of this last night, when I was writing this that he struggled to keep himself together. I knew he was emotional that night but he seemed far stronger then than he described himself to be.

The nurse needed us to give consent to perform evidence collection. We both gave verbal consent and signed a consent form. After signing the paper she repeated to dad and I several times what we were giving consent to. She explained that they were going to collect DNA samples from fluids in my vagina, scrape my fingernails for skin, take pictures so they can document my injuries. She told me that this was going to be a long procedure and that it will make me feel very uncomfortable. She wasn't lying, it seemed like it took forever, and I felt so exposed, but it wasn't as bad as it was in the van. I knew I was safe, and dad being with me really, really, really helped. I couldn't have done it if he wasn't there.

After the consent forms were signed the nurse left to go get the evidence collection kit. A detective who works with sexual assault victims walked in and began to ask me question. He asked many of the same initial questions that the nurse asked. As soon as he realized that I knew my attacker he wanted as much information about him as possible. I gave the detective the name of my attacker and told him that he what street he lived on. It must have taken me 10 minutes to get just his name and where he lives out of my mouth. The detective didn't waste anytime getting that guys information out to other cops who then tried to find him. By the time my rape examination was finished, my attacker was in handcuffs. It would be the next day before I knew he was arrested.

Evidence Collection:

The first collections they gathered was semen samples. They collected several samples, I guess to make sure they had a viable sample. They then documented all of my injuries in written form and with a camera. Every time the camera clicked I wanted to scream. Every time my hospital gown was lifted or lowered, I cringed and wanted to disappear. It was a horrible experience but it was a necessary one. They took dozens of pictures of all my injuries while simultaneously evaluating my injuries. They didn't treat any of my injuries until after they collected all the evidence. That makes sense because I imagine they wanted to make sure they didn't taint the evidence. After the physical evidence was collected I had to give a much more detailed account of my attacker and what he did to me while the doctor and nurse were actually treating me for my injuries. After about 4 hours they had all the pictures, samples, and statements and they could actually start to clean me up and treat my bigger injuries. I had an x-ray done on my left arm, ribs, wrists, jaw, and head.

While waiting for the x-rays to come back I was given stitches for all of my cuts, and was hooked up to an IV. They wanted to make sure I was re-hydrated properly. I was also given something for anxiety and some pain medicine that pretty much knocked me out. I don't remember too much for the next several hours. Dad told me that I was sort of like a zombie. The last clear memory I have is the doctor injecting something into my IV line and him telling me that it will make me very sleepy. About 3 hours later I was becoming aware of what was going on around me and I was lying in bed in a private room. I had a cast on my arm and several bandages. Dad was still there with me and so was grandma. She drove 5 hrs to be with me. Aimee (my little sister) was at home with my aunt.

I stayed in the hospital for the next 10 hours I think before I was released. It was late Sunday evening when I finally got home. It had been more than two days since I felt the comfort of my home and I was glad to be home. Dad has so many questions, so did Aimee and grandma but they didn't press for answers. I was too scared to be in my room by myself and as much as possible I stayed in the living room with dad.

Over the next few days dad looked through the literature the hospital counselor had given us and he found a therapist for me to talk to. I spent more than 3 weeks waiting for the wounds to heal, and the bruises to go away. I began my blog before my bruises were gone, I guess I needed a way of venting without using verbal words. I guess this is all I have to share right now. This was harder to write than I thought it was going to be. It's going on 4am and I have to be up for school in 2 hours. I might skip school, I'm pretty sure all I would do is cry anyway.

"God grant me the serenity to accept the things I cannot change; the courage to change the things I can; and the wisdom to know the difference."

Question 5, 6, and 7 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Question Submitted by M.M.

Q: Since your assault, what has been the most meaningful/helpful thing that someone has said to you?

A: It is so hard to find specific things that people has said to me that has actually helped and I think it will be different for everyone. One of the more persistent feelings I have had since my assault is the feeling of stupidity. Me being so easily manipulated has done so much more to harm me in terms of self-esteem than anything else. This causes me to blame myself, more specifically it causes me to call myself stupid. I tell people I am stupid all the time, sometimes it is directly or jokingly. I call myself a retard online when I make mistakes, and in my real life when I mess up on something I call myself a ignorant bitch. I know I shouldn't do that and I try not too but it still happens. I have noticed that I go out of my way sometimes to prove to others that I am not stupid, I guess I am hoping that I will believe it if I am told enough times that I am not stupid. So I guess the most beneficial thing is for someone to not tell me that I am smart, but treat me as if I am not stupid. Telling me I am smart or not stupid I don't think matters because I seldom believe people more than I believe myself. I am my own worst critic and I trust my negative opinions of myself while simultaneously distrusting any positive opinions.

Question Submitted by M.M.

Q: What is something you have longed to hear someone else say to you since your assault but that you haven't heard yet?

A: That is simple on the surface but not so much in reality. The only thing I want to hear that I haven't heard is, "It's okay, it was just a bad dream".

I know that's not going to happen and I know if someone did say that they are more nutty than me. I don't think there is anything "Realistic" that I have longed to hear, I have thought about this for over a week and there just isn't anything. There probably is something that I need to hear but I don't know what it is, but that might be because I am too retarded.

I think validation of what I am feeling and thinking might be the things I want to hear the most, but the problem is I want to hear the bad validation along with the good validation. When I say that I am stupid I secretly want people to agree with me so that I can futilely convince them otherwise. I think it comes down to me wanting the right circumstances so that I can feel as if I am not responsible for my ignorance, sort of like it is a handicap. I know it doesn't make any sense.

Question Submitted by M.M.'s husband.

If you could travel anywhere in the world, where you would you go and why? This is a question from my husband (he is in town visiting); he does not read your blog but knows about you through your correspondence on my blog. I hope you don't mind that I submitted a question from him.

A: Well this question has some unrealistic answers and some realistic answers. Unrealistically I would like to go to heaven to be comforted by mom. I know heaven is sort of outside the world but I said it was an unrealistic answer. More realistically I would like to go sightseeing and visit the 7 wonders of the ancient world and to actually see the original US Constitution, not the facsimile that people so often see. I think Japan (Tokyo) and Australia would be on my list as well.

Question 4 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Self interview assignment question 4 of 10. Questions were submitted by my supporters through my blog and then approved by my therapist.

Question Submitted by misfitspartan.

Q: In what ways has your attack strengthened or bettered you and your life?

A: Damn, this is a loaded question. I'm sort of at a loss as to where to start. I guess I will start with did my assault better my life. The simple answer is "NO", but if I examine my assault with hopeful eyes in terms of years from now I would have to say that my assault will better my life. I am a true believer in the phrase, "Knowledge is power." Although I trust less now than I use to, I am also less naive. I know bad things happen and that I am not immune to it. I always thought that things like this would never happen to me, it always happens to someone else. Now I know the truth and that truth is that anyone can become a victim at any time. I have also learned of numerous resources that I not only can use to help me but I can help others. I guess that sort of comes back to knowledge. So yes, my assault has bettered me because among the chaos, pain, mental despair, and heartache there is a possibility of a bright future for me driven by knowledge that I can share.

Has my attack strengthened my life? I think I am compelled to look at this question much the same way. In immediate terms I do not feel strengthened, I feel weakened and broken, but when I think about the possibilities of a brighter future years down the road I have to admit that my assault will strengthen me. I think there is some truth in the phrase, "What doesn't kill me. only makes me stronger." I believe with time and effort I will have the strength to help others in a more personal way. It will be a type of strength that I normally wouldn't have access to if I had not been a victim who became a survivor so that one day I can become a thrivor.

This question reminds me of a question that came up either on a support forum or a chat room. That question is (verbatim), "If you could give up the knowledge and strength you have gained and the knowledge and strength you will gain, would you choose to change the past."

At this point in time there is very little that I wouldn't do to change the past and make it so that none of this had never happened. In the future I might be less willing to give up any knowledge or strength I have gained. It is even possible that my life could be changed so much for the better that in time I could even refuse to change the past even if it were possible. I think a lot of it will depend on how much of an impact my future will have on my betterment and knowledge, and how well I am able to share that knowledge and betterment upon someone else who needs it. As of right now I have trouble imagining that I can heal and much less make a difference in other people's lives.

Question 3 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Self interview assignment question 3 of 10. Questions were submitted by my supporters through my blog and then approved by my therapist.

Question submitted by Wabs

Q: How does the relationship with your family (father, sister, nanna) feel now, then before this happened? Do you think your reaction if this had not happened be different to what it is now?

Q: "How does the relationship with your family (father, sister, nanna) feel now, then before this happened?"

A: My relationship with my family in some ways feels closer and further away at the same time. For example I know without a doubt that I can go to my family with anything now. I know that there's nothing that is so big hat I shouldn't go to them. Before I knew I could go to them but there was always a thought that some things are too big. We are closer in a lot of ways in terms of a supportive family structure but we also seem more separated in terms of emotional pain. They support me, but they don't really get what I am going through. They try to but it is impossible unless they have had a similar experience. I am glad they don't understand because it would kill me if they really understood.

Q: "Do you think your reaction if this had not happened be different to what it is now?"

A: Sure it would be different. My reactions toward someone else would be supportive but I wouldn't really understand what they were going through. If it were a stranger that this happened to and none of it would have happened to me, I would have felt bad for them and supported them but my thoughts would have moved from them not long after reading or hearing about what happened. I think a part of me would be asking the same question I ask myself. I would want to know why that person got into that van. I would be thinking to myself that she made a bad decision. I wouldn't blame her because it wouldn't be her fault but i would acknowledge to myself that this person could have made wiser choices. I think that's one reason why I am so hard on myself, because I am judging myself like I probably would judge someone who would be in my situation. Please don't misunderstand me, I would never blame the victim even if I had not been a victim myself. However if I had not been a victim I would have blindly made the assumption that I would have been too smart to fall victim to that kind of manipulation. Again, this is one reason why I am so hard on myself.

Question 2 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Self interview assignment question 2 of 10. Questions were submitted by my supporters through my blog and then approved by my therapist.

Question submitted by Author Unknown

Q: How do you think others saw you before your assault, and how do you think they see you now?

A: (before) I think others saw me as the typical teen girl just a little weird.

A: (after) Now I think people view me in different ways, it depends on who they are.

My Dad:

I think he views me with as much or more love than he did before my assault. He also thinks of me as more fragile. I am pretty sure that he has lost trust in me to make the right choices in life, after all I made the wrong choice to get into that guys van. I went against dad's wishes and took a ride with someone I didn't really know. Worse than anything, I think he sees me as a non-virgin.

My Little Sister:

I don't think her opinions have changed all that much except for one thing. I think she stopped viewing me as invincible.

My Extended Family: (cousins, aunts, uncles, grandparents)

I think most of my extended family view me much the same way dad does. I am sure they are as dumbfounded as I am as to why I would get into his van. I'm sure they are wondering if I have some sort of mental deficiency that disallowed me to see the danger before my eyes. I think all of them think they would have seen the danger if it were them instead of me. I know for a fact that some of them look at me as broken. During Thanksgiving I overheard a family member (my grampa - mom's dad) tell his brother, "I don't think she (me) will have a normal life now."

My Friends:

I honestly think most of them think I am stupid.

My Online Support Friends:

I think most pity me and feel sorry for me so much that they have the need to lie to me and tell me that I am brave. I think most of them care deeply for me. I think a few of them think I am making all of this up and they are just itching for me to contradict myself or give enough information that they can use to prove me to be a fraud. I think many of my online support gets tired of supporting me and thinks to themselves that it is pointless. I think many of them get frustrated and would walk away and concentrate on their own healing if they thought I would be safe from myself.

Question 1 of 10 (Therapy Assignment)

Self interview assignment question 1 of 10. Questions were submitted by my supporters through my blog and then approved by my therapist.

Question submitted by Author Unknown

Q: How did you see yourself before your assault, and how you see yourself now?

A: Before my assault I never really thought about how I see myself. I think I thought of myself like an average person who just wanted to go with the flow of life. I never really considered myself to be a pretty person or an ugly person. I do think I was a nice person and a fairly astute person.

After my assault much of my opinions of myself and others have changed. I am a far less trusting person of others and myself. I always think that there is some sort of motive behind people's actions even if they are nice or kind actions. I see myself as damaged and unworthy of happiness and wonder why anyone would want anything to do with me. Many times I am confused as to how someone can even bare the mental pain of even looking at me.

Some people think I am smart, wise for my years, attractive, insightful, brave, and inspirational, but I often think these people are nuts because I don't even come close to seeing myself in those ways. I see all the mistakes I made that night and how I was manipulated and I feel stupid and foolish. I hear people call me brave and I laugh on the inside because I know how messed up I am on the inside and I can't believe that people can't see the real me, the broken, tainted, and disgusting me that could never be an inspiration to anyone.

Sometimes, more often than not, I wake up literally hating myself. Sometimes the thought of my own perceived failures make me sick to my stomach. Many times I want to punish myself for my failures and for perceiving my life as a failure. I have punished myself before. Some people cut, but I punch or scratch myself. The scratches are always on a place that I can cover with clothes. Most of the time the bruises are hidden under clothes as well. Sometimes I have to use make up because I have hit myself in the face hard enough to swell and bruise.

Basically I see myself as highly messed up and to the point of no return. I still try to feel better but it isn't easy. I have lost most of my ambitions to become someone in life. The really funny part is I still have the same goals but the reasons behind the goals have changed. I now what to prove myself wrong and that I am not a failure, but I am secretly wanting to prove that I am a failure because I don't even realize that I am not a failure. I'm pretty sure there is some sort of psychological term for a self reinforcing delusion. Knowing that there is a term like that makes me see myself as a bigger failure because I fit the bill by merely writing this last paragraph.

I seem insane because one of the definitions of insanity is doing the same thing over and over and expecting different results. I try to heal and it doesn't work. I do this over and over and hope that one day there will be different results. That seems insane to me.

Another Suggested Assignment By My Therapist (STEP 1)

My therapist loves to give me assignments where I self examine my own emotions, and to be honest I like them too. Don't misunderstand, I hate the flood of emotions and pain that can come from these assignments but I do really like how these assignments help me understand myself. Here is the assignment, it is similar to the self interview I posted a couple of months ago but with one major difference. In that self interview my therapist was the one who gave me the questions, but in this interview the regular readers of my blog are the ones who get to ask the questions. Here is how it is suppose to work. Each person who reads this and has a question they would like to ask me, all they need to do is ask it in a comment bellow this post. As the questions come in I email them to my therapist and she approves them. I'm not 100% sure why, but she wants to approve them before I answer them. Once 10 approved questions has been asked I will answer these questions in a new post.

Here are the rules: (per my therapist)

People can ask more than one question, but as much as possible take turns asking them so that the questions are being asked by more than one person. Preferable 10 questions by 10 people but realistically I am hoping for about 2 by each person since I only have about 5 regulars on my blog.

The questions can be about anything as long as they aren't solely meant to satisfy some sort of morbid curiosity.

The questions should be personal in nature so that they force me to self examine.

I am given one and only pass on any of the 10 questions that are approved.

Once 10 questions are approved I have up to 1 month to answer them.

As a each question is asked I will email that question to my therapist and she will approve it or reject it. I will let each person know if there question was approved.

Let the questioning commence, and remember, the quicker I get the questions the quicker I can get them approved and begin them.

Physical Therapy - A Futile Endeavor

Wednesday after I got out of school I went to my therapist. Most of you already are familiar with the fact that I have a therapist for my emotional issues that stem directly from the PTSD I have from my assault, but the therapist I went to Wednesday was a different kind of therapist. This therapist is a physical therapist who is trying to help me regain dexterity with my hands.

Cheiralgia Paresthetica is a type of nerve damage that can happen in the wrist. It is generally caused by the sensory branch of the radial nerve in the wrist being compressed. Some of the most common causes of this compression is wrist restraints. Handcuffs under normal lawful use have a bad reputation for causing a temporary and even prolonged neuropathy in the wrists, hands, and fingers. Cheiralgia Paresthetica can also be caused by any item that is wrapped tightly enough around the wrist that it pinches the nerves that go to the hand. It is very common for those who have been restrained for extended periods of time in situations reminiscent of hostage situations where the captor has little to no concern for the well being of their hostage. In many cases after the action which is pinching the nerve is removed, the negative effects of the nerve damage dissipates over a few minutes to several weeks with the use NSAIDs (aspirin and naproxen sodium), but sometimes it requires physical therapy.

The symptoms are somewhat different with each person being that the nerve damage is seldom the same from one person to another, however they do have some common attributes. Some of the common symptoms are numbness, tingling, burning, and a general lack of sensation in part or most of the hands and fingers. The symptoms I have is numbness in the back part of my hands, side of my thumbs, and index fingers. I also often have a burning sensation in my fingertips and palms. This often makes it difficult for me to type, write, or any other task that requires dexterity.

Immediately after my assault being that my assailant kept me restrained for most of the 23 hours that he kept me, I had severe debilitating numbness and marginalized dexterity in my hands and fingers. Over time much of the coordination has returned, but a good portion of the numbness, tingling, and burning is still there.

I have seen a physical therapist once a month since all of this happened. Wednesday was the fifth time I had a session. Unfortunately, my therapist told me that being that the damage to my wrist occurred more than 5 months ago and I still am having symptoms, the likelihood of a full recovery is next to zero. That kind of bums me out a little. I use to be able to type pretty good, but now I am slow because I can't always tell if I pushed the key. I never really had good penmanship, but now it really sucks.

Between the physical scars, nerve damage, and emotional scars, I just feel broken. I'm tired and discouraged and feel like giving up on everything. I don't mean I feel like giving up on life, I just mean that I feel like giving up on me. I don't really feel like I have the energy or desire to heal on an emotional level. It's almost like I have grown to believe that there really is no point behind putting myself through all of the emotional pain in order to heal because I will still be broken physically. I know how retarded that sounds because there are so many people who have much worse physical damage than I have. I really don't know what I'm saying. I guess I'm just tired of trying and trying and not feeling like I am getting anywhere.

I wish I could sleep, I think that would help. The lack of sleep is really getting to me. I am really beginning to have trouble concentrating on anything, it's like my mind is in a fog. I have tried so many different things to help me sleep but nothing works unless I double or triple up on the medication. Drinking alcohol helps me sleep, but it's not like I should be doing that, and much less on a regular basis. The only other thing that works is time, because after several days with no sleep, I crash. I get so little sleep that I have been asked to take a drug test because my therapist assumed I was on meth. I thought that was funny and insulting at the same time.

I'm just tired and need a vacation from being me.