EMILEE (she/her)

I was the ideal patient. Born with a lot of various medical issues, I was always well behaved at the doctor, used to being poked and prodded, and never cried. I would even look while I got vaccinations. Medical things fascinated me, and I wanted to be a doctor when I grew up. So when they told me I was going to get an x-ray of my stomach, I was excited. I was in a great mood, laughing, making jokes, goofing off. That all changed when they stopped believing me when I told them it hurt. They said it wasn’t going to hurt. They didn’t believe me. I fought like hell, or as hard as I could at 7 years old, to get them to stop touching me and at least give me a moment. They held me down while I screamed for my family out in the waiting room, hoping they’d come help me and make them stop. Help never came.