There is one person who has greatly impacted the course of my life who I have never met, to my knowledge, since I was old enough to remember meeting her.
She is a doctor. So many of my devotions and fears, opinions and connections trace back to decisions she made, and I hope to one day have an audience with her.
I was born with a rare genetic disorder that causes bones to break easily and was a freak case (meaning neither of my parents had a medical history involving the condition). Early on, when my bones began breaking as an infant and toddler, one medical report suggested I may have a genetic problem, and more specifically, named the condition I do have, Osteogenesis Imperfecta, as a possible cause.
One doctor felt that wasn’t the case and, unsupported by any evidence, attempted for years to take me away from my parents and place me into foster care (which she was later informally accused of doing for personal profit).
Because of her commitment to this cause, I was never diagnosed with a formal problem until I was eight and my vertebrae had started to rub together. I could have very easily been paralyzed if the situation had persisted without my receiving medical care and a corrective brace to realign my spine and allow the sacs in between each vertebrae to basically reset. In the interim, I suffered several broken bones….one an ankle bone that was not set properly and led to a deformity that showed in my 30s and will never be properly corrected.
In addition to emotionally disrupting my entire childhood, which has not doubt left me with scars I will always carry, I also have physical scars brought about by one person who wanted to accuse two poor parents of thrashing their infant daughter while the whole community stood behind them and said that wasn’t case and when other people provided testimony stating they saw me fall and break my leg on my own.
To this day, in a courthouse somewhere, unless it was closed through attrition at some point after I turned eighteen, a child abuse investigation involving my parents remains shelved but not dismissed.
If I could talk to this woman, if I get to, I want to know if she remembers me. I want to know if there were other Ashleys. I want to know how many kids were actually taken from their mums and dads, brothers and sisters and languished in her house or in foster care because of her silly pride.
I want to know, really, how she sleeps at night, and how she could hurt the people I love so much so badly…how she could not see that my father would have died for me any day of my life and still would, and that my mother was so devoted to us and seeing that we grew up well. I want to know how she became a professional and let her preconceived notions blind her to real love.
I would like to be honest, and I would like to see her be honest.
This month I am participating in BlogHer’s NaBloPoMo challenge and utilizing predrafted prompts to branch out with my writing. Todays’s prompt was: If you could be completely honest with no regrets, what would you say and to whom?