Nicole Maendel
2006-10-22 01:27:36 UTC
I want to share with all of you an event that drew me into
intactivism...
Back in 1996, I began an OB/GYN hospital clinical as a student nurse.
One day, I was enlisted to attend a 'routine circumcision.' I did not
realize how much that event would shatter the very foundation of a
career choice made in ignorance. I appeared in the doorway of the circ
room and saw the little newborn boy to whom I was 'assigned' for the
day. 20 years old and not having kids of my own, I did not anticipate
the lurching sensation that gripped my heart. Laying strapped down to a
table, so small and new....pure and innocent...trusting...all
alone...no defenses..., I walked toward the baby and wanted to grab him
off the table and shelter him..to tell him that nobody would hurt him..
In walked the doctor...loud..obnoxious..joking with his assistant...as
if he was about to perform a 10 minute oil change..not once did he talk
to this little baby. Rather, he reached for his cold metal
instruments..and then reached out for his object of mutilation...this
sweet newborn's perfect unharmed penis. As I recall the screams of pain
and terror.. his small lungs barely able to keep up with the cries..I
turned in horror as I saw the doctor forcefully pull his foreskin
around a metal object. Then came the knife..cut...cut..cut..
I stood next to the baby and said..you're almost done sweety..almost
done...
There..done. Then came the words..as that son-of-a-bitch dangled the
foreskin in midair.."anybody care to go fishing?"
My tongue lodged in my throat..I felt like I was about to vomit. I
restrained myself..and my duty was to then take the infant back to the
nursery for 'observation.' Here is where I realized I couldn't do it. I
could not be a part of such a cold, sterile, out-of-touch medical
model...Rather than observing, I cradled the infant...I held him and
whispered comforting words as if he were my own...I'll never forget
those new little eyes watch me as if in a haze...he knew I cared about
him...he knew he was safe in my arms..he knew that I was going to take
him to his mommy...but, deep in his little heart, at some level, I know
he wondered where his mommy was.....while he lay there mutilated in
what was supposed to be a safe and welcoming environment. I made a note
in the chart and then caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror...my chest
and face had broken out in purple splotches. My next thought? I can't
do this...I refuse to do this...this is NOT for me. I took the baby to
his mother..who was complaining about 'some pain' she was
experiencing...I never addressed her pain because I left to go to my
locker..I grabbed my belongings..and hoped that my rejection of this
'medical system' could serve as some type of redemption for the
violation of that newborn that I cradled in my arms that day. The next
day, I withdrew from nursing school...and never looked back.
intactivism...
Back in 1996, I began an OB/GYN hospital clinical as a student nurse.
One day, I was enlisted to attend a 'routine circumcision.' I did not
realize how much that event would shatter the very foundation of a
career choice made in ignorance. I appeared in the doorway of the circ
room and saw the little newborn boy to whom I was 'assigned' for the
day. 20 years old and not having kids of my own, I did not anticipate
the lurching sensation that gripped my heart. Laying strapped down to a
table, so small and new....pure and innocent...trusting...all
alone...no defenses..., I walked toward the baby and wanted to grab him
off the table and shelter him..to tell him that nobody would hurt him..
In walked the doctor...loud..obnoxious..joking with his assistant...as
if he was about to perform a 10 minute oil change..not once did he talk
to this little baby. Rather, he reached for his cold metal
instruments..and then reached out for his object of mutilation...this
sweet newborn's perfect unharmed penis. As I recall the screams of pain
and terror.. his small lungs barely able to keep up with the cries..I
turned in horror as I saw the doctor forcefully pull his foreskin
around a metal object. Then came the knife..cut...cut..cut..
I stood next to the baby and said..you're almost done sweety..almost
done...
There..done. Then came the words..as that son-of-a-bitch dangled the
foreskin in midair.."anybody care to go fishing?"
My tongue lodged in my throat..I felt like I was about to vomit. I
restrained myself..and my duty was to then take the infant back to the
nursery for 'observation.' Here is where I realized I couldn't do it. I
could not be a part of such a cold, sterile, out-of-touch medical
model...Rather than observing, I cradled the infant...I held him and
whispered comforting words as if he were my own...I'll never forget
those new little eyes watch me as if in a haze...he knew I cared about
him...he knew he was safe in my arms..he knew that I was going to take
him to his mommy...but, deep in his little heart, at some level, I know
he wondered where his mommy was.....while he lay there mutilated in
what was supposed to be a safe and welcoming environment. I made a note
in the chart and then caught a glimpse of myself in a mirror...my chest
and face had broken out in purple splotches. My next thought? I can't
do this...I refuse to do this...this is NOT for me. I took the baby to
his mother..who was complaining about 'some pain' she was
experiencing...I never addressed her pain because I left to go to my
locker..I grabbed my belongings..and hoped that my rejection of this
'medical system' could serve as some type of redemption for the
violation of that newborn that I cradled in my arms that day. The next
day, I withdrew from nursing school...and never looked back.