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."