#Metoo

October 16, 2017

A shockwave hit the media last week with the revelation that a well-known Hollywood producer had sexually harassed and/or assaulted actresses and employees within his own company. Those allegations, unproven at this writing, sparked a conversation that turned in to a movement. It got people talking, regardless of their gender, about victimization/victim shaming, abuse of positions of power, the secret shame, and empowerment to speak our truth without fear of reprisal.

Today I join that movement. I was much younger. I did not say anything to anyone. I’m sure I was not this person’s first victim and I doubt I was their last. This person abused their position of power and trust. It happened over 35 years ago. I regret not speaking up to warn others. At the time, I was more shocked that it had occurred. I pushed it away – I didn’t forget – just chose to move on.

I had been diagnosed with thyroid cancer. My GP had provided me with the name of two endocrine specialists – one whose office was in downtown Toronto and one who was close to hers. She explained that she knew the first doctor but her waiting room was never run smoothly – I could be waiting for up to an hour. She said she didn’t know the other doctor but she wanted to provide me with an option closer to home.

I chose to meet the doctor closer to home. I didn’t want to travel downtown. The appointment was arranged. I arrived for my appointment. The nurse ushered me in to an office. I sat in a chair in front of a desk piled high with papers. The office was dark and a little messy. It didn’t remind me of a doctor’s office. The doctor came in and sat across from me. While he was reviewing my file, he asked me why I was here. I explained that my doctor had referred me, per the file, and that it was really a choice of proximity to my home. He looked up and told me that he didn’t specialize in thyroid/endocrine issues anymore. He smiled and apologized for the misunderstanding.

He said that, since I was there, he might as well take a look. I didn’t think anything of it. He asked me to change into a gown. He stayed in the room while I changed. He turned on a bright overhead lamp near the table. He motioned me towards the examining table and walked over to the door and dimmed the lights while I hopped up onto the table. The doctor walked over, reached for the overhead lamp and shone the light in my face. I squinted against the bright light. I could no longer see him. He placed his hands around my neck and asked me to swallow. This was a familiar test to feel for a lump in the thyroid. I swallowed. He had me repeat this several times. He then said he was going to check for swollen lymph nodes – also a common by-product of thyroid cancer. He began to move his hands around my neck and shoulders. The room was silent and I could hear his breathing. He slowly slid his hands down to my right breast and began touching it – as if he was conducting a breast exam. He didn’t say anything. His other hand began groping my other breast. I sat there, motionless. His breathing became more laboured. I turned my head away from him as both of his hands continued to fondle my breasts. I really wasn’t sure what was happening or why. I knew this wasn’t part of a normal exam but I was speechless. Paralyzed. This continued for about 5 minutes. He stopped and stepped away from the table. His voice came from the shadows, “You can go.” I grabbed my clothes and quickly got dressed. Head down, I left the office and walked past the nurse’s desk. I couldn’t look at her.

I took the bus home; still trying to process what had happened. I chided myself for being so stupid. How could I let that happen? Why didn’t I stop him or push him away? I didn’t have an answer. When I got home, my husband asked me how the appointment went. I told him that it turned out the doctor was not a specialist and that I’d have to go back to my GP and ask her to make an appointment with the other specialist. That is the same explanation that I gave my GP.

I never said anything to her or to anyone else – until now – 35 years later. I don’t remember the doctor’s name or his address. I can’t even describe him. It happened so quickly and it was so long ago. You’d think his image and those details would be forever etched into my brain. But they aren’t.

I didn’t let what happened affect me. I’m not sure why I was lucky enough to just kept moving on with my life. That is not a judgement of others. There were a few times when I tried to remember the doctor’s name. I thought about contacting my GP and asking her to look in my files for the name. I thought about approaching the medical board and lodging a complaint. But what would I say? It happened so long ago. Then I thought I’d just let it go. I hadn’t really given much thought about this incident until today when I started seeing the hashtag. Because, while not as disturbing as some of the other experiences that are being shared, it did happen to #metoo.