Trauma-Informed Care: Has a Doctor Ever Asked Permission Before Touching You?

Today, I had the pleasure of speaking with Eleshia from The Eleshia Show about me potentially being on a podcast episode. I had planned to tell her how my new business is focusing on supporting women in deciding/going through the egg-freezing process….oh and… just in case it may be relevant…I’ll use my trauma-informed experience to help people through any reproductive health appointment. I had prepared for the meeting yesterday by listening to her show, prepping questions about her fertility and audience, and writing an outline of what I could bring to the table. 

Eleshia and I had never met or spoken, but connected through a women’s group online and I responded to her request for podcast hosts, in the vein of my year of “try things that scare you”. I barely slept last night since I had to drive Lyft late and due to the time difference of her being in the UK, a later time wasn’t an option, so I expected to just rely on my prep and try to listen a lot and keep my answers short and sweet. I had just had an interview for a contract position last week that I didn’t get because I didn’t stick to concrete answers, so I wasn’t going to make that mistake again. 

Eleshia was warm and friendly as we started the conversation then she asked me an open ended question like “Tell me more about your business.” I replied asking “What is your target audience so I can adapt my answer?” She said it was a wide age range, and I should just tell her in general, she liked free-flowing conversation. I’ve been really struggling in working on improving my conversational skills and the challenges that ADHD brings: like interrupting, fixating on a subject much too long, repeating myself, losing interest and more. I really didn’t want to blow another potential business partnership or friendship on these mistakes. Yet something about how she asked me opened the floodgates. 

I completely ignored the prep outline and spoke from the heart. Someone was truly holding space for me without a timer and valued my story. I forgot to stick to my interview or business skills or format, I was speaking to a brand new, yet safe friend. 

I said that I had to tell her about my trauma-informed services and my background, because that was what was important, the egg-freezing is just a tool to reclaim power over our reproductive systems and our experience with the medical system. If we feel empowered through making decisions, taking actions and speaking up for ourselves instead of being traumatized, that confidence ripples into our relationships, our work, and our self-care. 

I told her how I’ve seen the criminal justice system from all sides and was sad and burned out. I needed to see the other side, where survivors can take their power back, no matter if the trauma was ever reported, or didn’t start until a horrible repro health interaction. I was trained in trauma-informed services since the age of 20 but I told her how it wasn’t until 33 that I met my first trauma-informed reproductive health care provider, and realized that had been missing in my life for decades. I told her how for these decades, going for a pap smear, colposcopy, etc. meant lost sleep, nausea, nightmares, very painful cervix, and more. 

I reflected on how both healing and enraging it was to be treated by this health-care provider who knew the system had been retraumatizing me through not informing me, rushing me, not asking for my active participation, nor asking for my permission. Huge healing rushed over me in one short appointment when she created space for all of that. Rage rushed in for the next few weeks when I realized I had deserved that since my first interaction with the medical system. 

I went on for a while on how I was empowered to advocate for these things in my future medical appointments and how egg freezing was life-changing in my confidence and decision making, and how I started my business to help others with these two areas.  I had broken all my newly-learned communication skills, losing track of time, not at all keeping to a schedule or taking a breath to let Eleshia cut in. I felt great having shared it all, but feared I had totally blown it all. Not again Lindsay *face palm*. How are you going to do this business if you can’t even have a two-way conversation? 

What happened next blew me away. I wish I had recorded it or could bottle it up to tap into over and over when my imposter syndrome, negative self-talk and fatigue working a few hustles to pay the bills as this business grows. 

Eleshia looked emotional and told me I had made her think of so many things she had never even considered. She honored my experience and how I could help others with my insights. I've been playing down even to myself while still hoping that what the coaches said was true that after years of volunteering, I could actually make money from this passion. Said that we had to have this conversation on the podcast for so many more to hear. We proceeded to talk about egg freezing, how the next generation must learn to advocate for themselves before they are traumatized, and more. Time flew by before it was time for our next meetings. 

I can’t wait for us to connect again and record a podcast episode (or, fingers-crossed, more!) but it is now another late night and I couldn’t sleep because one line just kept on repeat in my brain. Something that Eleshia caught me saying and it stood out to her so much, and now it’s dwarfing everything else I thought I had to share with others. 

I was saying the unique things my trauma-informed provider did to make me feel safe with her, process the past procedure her colleague had traumatized me during, and prepare me for the procedure she was going to do that day, with my permission. 

I stated that even after making me feel safe and explaining the process and asking if I was ready (that alone is unique!), before she began, she asked me permission to touch me. 

Doctors have told me before, usually after me asking for them to verbalize each step they are doing to keep me calm, that they were going to touch me and where. 

Never had they ASKED PERMISSION to touch me. No wonder I was being retraumatized from my assaults every time I had to be naked, legs spread on a table, feet in the stirrups, instruments jabbing me and cutting out cancerous cells, gut cramping, blinding harsh lights on and multiple people seeing what I kept private until I was married, a virgin. There was never a request for consent before it all began. 

In the time of MeToo, couldn’t we start with a simple “May I touch you?” to set the tone of the reproductive health appointment that the patient has the power to choose, to stop if uncomfortable, to need more time, to ask for a different doctor, the same respect we require of consent in sexual interactions.