Member-only story
My doctor’s wandering hands
A wise woman wishes to be no one’s enemy; a wise woman refuses to be anyone’s victim. -Maya Angelou
It happened over ten years ago. I had a sinus infection and went to the Permanence Medical de C, an UFO-style 70’s derelict health clinic close to the train station in a Swiss city, let’s leave it unnamed. The only advantage of the place is they always take you in, and it’s never crowded. That should have been enough warning.
After a few questions, the doctor pointed me to the examination table.
“It’s my recurrent sinus infection, I’ll need antibiotics,” I told him.
“Remove your blouse.” He instructed.
He placed his stethoscope on my chest and listened to my heart and lungs. He checked my ears and throat and rested his stethoscope around his neck. In slow motion, he then placed his hands on my breasts, cupping a breast in each hand. His gesture lasted only a few seconds. I froze. Or rather, I became a fly settling on my left shoulder, petrified, void, and breathless. The doctor searched for my eyes and sustained his gaze. Was that the look of defiance? Nerve? Before sinking my sight to the floor, I registered the triumphant smile across his face.
“This is happening,” the fly mumbled to my ear. I remained unreachable.
