top of page

Storytelling

  • Writer: UCHC Lit Mag
    UCHC Lit Mag
  • Jul 22
  • 2 min read

Walk-In


She enters carrying the baggage of her pain, the weight of her history. 

She’s been here before. 

She trusts no one. She’s never had any reason to. The world has not been kind to her. 

But she’s been driven here, more out of absolute necessity. She stares apprehensively at the masked faces, at the rush of blues around her. They don’t understand her pain. They keep asking her things in a language she barely understands, but can’t they see she can’t breathe, can’t walk? 

Through the fog, it takes all of her remaining patience to remind herself that she needs to cooperate, to be complacent, to listen, and only then she’ll get a bed and some rest. 

She looks up and sees that a man is screaming, stomping around shirtless. She wonders what he’s here for and realizes that they are not so different.


Case presentation of a woman undergoing dilation and curettage


A healthy 19-year-old woman with fiery red hair and kindness in her eyes presents for the removal of fetal tissue. She is 8 weeks along and is at the clinic with her long-time partner. This is her first abortion. She appears slightly anxious but puts on a brave face with a warm smile. She is a nursing student who would have liked to carry the pregnancy to term but does not yet feel financially stable. She has a twin sister who is already pregnant with her second child. She is 19 years old and emotionally prepared to build a family, to raise a life. The procedure was swift and smooth, punctuated only by her nervous and trusting chatter. She squeezed my hand and put a smile on the faces of every single doctor, nurse, and doula in the room.



Submitted as part of the 2025 Humanities and Healing Event.

By Nishika Navrange

 
 
 

Recent Posts

See All
The Black Dog of Meriden

Atop The Hanging Hills rests my town below Always the same, that cursed hike. Forlorn bodies climb its dark tableau To feel that warm...

 
 
 
susurration

sometimes I even forgot It was there  reliable like the tide, a ravenous tsunami they looked at me and constructed a pharmaceutical...

 
 
 

Comments


Bring Anastomoses straight to your inbox. Sign up for our newsletter.

Thanks for subscribing!

© 2023 by Anastomoses Literary Magazine. Powered and secured by Wix.com

bottom of page