Death Is Too Good For Him

As I sat working on the computer the TV was on. Elizabeth Vargas was interviewing the girls that were sexually assaulted by the team doctor. He, well, he got what he deserved, if there is even justice for what he did.

Another doctor, however, did not, that I know of. While I was watching the show feelings of rage, anger, and betrayal bubbled to the surface. Something, I can't recall now, triggered situations I thought I had dealt with in therapy and it would never come up again.

The doctor my parents sent us to when we were kids was a bit more than "friendly," with me. It seems I was around 11 when it all began. You see, my parents didn't think things like that happened, especially with a doctor that was also the town's baseball team doctor. They thought I was safe.

What I endurefd for the next 7 years was nothing short of horrific. I looked him up, was he still alive? It seems he died a few months ago. That didn't help. There were stories of what a great man he was. Perhaps he was, outside of his office. However, I know the man for what he was.

My feelings were at the boiling point. I wanted to run just like I have most of my life. I've wanted to run from the people that trust, for they are the ones that are the least suspected. I don't want to use the word "hate," possibly disdain, disgust, helplessness, anger, and gulit. Yes guilt.

Reasonably I know there was nothing I could have done. After all he was one of the towns most respected doctors. How would anyone believe a little girl or the teenager I grew into.

I don't know what to feel. My heart is pounding, my head is about to split, I'm fighting off an anxiety attack. It's as if I was back in that examining room, helpless and alone. The memories won't stop, no matter how much I medicate myself, alone in my room but I'm not alone, I'm haunted by the trusted doctor.

He got off easy. Death was far to good for what he deserved.