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Monday, April 14, 2003
Clinics of death
THE room was small, bare of furnishings except for an unusually high bed, a chair and a small table. There was a small window with a dark green curtain on the right side of the room. A bright overhead light hung from the ceiling. Only a length of dark green material served as a partition in that room -- it resembled an emergency room in a small clinic. And that was what it was supposed to be -- a small clinic. At least everything was spic and span, which was a great consolation.
Twilight has just set in the city. I had no idea where on earth we were. A friend of Ann who had undergone the same "treatment" recommended this place to her. We were blindfolded and a silent guide led us into strange alleys, deeper into the slum areas. There actually was no need to blindfold me because I would have gotten lost in those confusing twists and turns even in broad daylight. When the blindfolds were removed, we were already in this strange room where Ann's problem was to be "solved".
I looked at Ann, her young face pretending to be calm and collected. But knowing her, I knew there was a battle going on inside her. For a whole day, I had begged Ann not to go through with her plan but she was determined.
At 19, she already has two children aged three and one years and couldn't afford another baby. Not after her live-in partner had left her for another woman just a month ago. The curtain opened and a masked figure entered. The "doctor", I presumed. She studied the two of us for a moment, wondering who the patient was. Ann stood up from where she was sitting and the "doctor" motioned her to lie on the bed. For a second, I saw a flicker of hesitancy in her eyes, which turned to grim determination.
Ann lay down on the high bed, pale and trembling. The "doctor" studied the frail girl for a second before resolutely picking up an object from a tray she had brought with her. I barely managed to prevent a gasp as I saw what the "doctor" was holding.
Then everything took on an air of unreality. I felt like I was watching the whole scene from afar. Ann closed her eyes tight and clasped my hand in a vise-like grip as the instrument penetrated deep inside her -- the instrument that would put an end to the life of the innocent and helpless fetus in her womb. Time seemed to stand still for a few moments of agony - then it was over.
The "doctor" removed her gloves (but not her mask) and helped Ann sit up. From Ann's billfold I removed two crisp one thousand-peso bills and handed it to the "doctor". All through the whole process, I hadn't heard a single word from the "doctor".
In a few hours, Ann was supposed to expel her two-month old fetus, all for a measly sum of two thousand pesos. We were blindfolded again and led back to where our guide waited to deliver us out to the highway.
As expected, Ann did expel her baby that night but two weeks passed and she was still bleeding. I watched her everyday in horror and agony. She wouldn't hear of going to the hospital until on the third week she fainted from loss of blood. Had we delayed an hour more she would have been the "late" Ann and I'd have had no idea whom to blame. I couldn't find that clinic by myself and besides; I hadn't seen the face of the doctor.
The Department of Health records show abortion is the third leading cause of hospitalization in 1994-1998. Also, a study by the University of the Philippines Population Institute in 1994 showed that up to 500,000 induced abortions were done clandestinely every year. Ann was just one of the statistics. Around 12,000 women die from unsafe abortions, while 80,000 women suffer from complications due to abortions each year. These statistics are alarming.
It is common knowledge that these "doctors" with hidden clinics are operating everywhere and earning big income. Yet no one can point out who and where they are because they see to it that their patients can't identify them. Whatever happens to the patient after their treatment is no longer their responsibility.
Isn't it high time that the government did something about this? RCB
(April 14, 2003 issue)
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