Rosalina

Rosalina was 17 and a resident of the poverty-ridden Mexico City slums when she decided to come to el norte to start a new life and make money for her family. En route, she was raped by the cojote (guide) who transported her, and she was beaten nearly to death. Somehow managing to stay alive, she recuperated in the Spanish barrio of Dallas and finally got a job as a migrant worker. But after a month, she learned she was pregnant. Relatives in Farmingdale, Long Island, convinced her to come east for help, and by now she had earned enough for bus fare. Shortly after her arrival in New York, and after speaking with her relatives, she decided that she simply couldn't carry the baby of the man who had raped her. She wanted an abortion, but she had neither money, insurance, nor Medicaid. One of her relatives told her about an old woman who performed abortions for $25. Rosalina was so desperate that she agreed to the procedure. At the clandestine meeting place, she met the woman in an old abandoned room. She was given something alcoholic to drink, and a half hour later, when she was semi-conscious, she recalls something being shoved into her, and a good deal of pain. Shortly afterward, she was sent home and told to expect heavy bleeding in 2-3 days.
But she didn't bleed. What she developed, instead, was a 103 degree fever, chills, and abdominal pain. Friends who had previously been to our facility brought Rosalina to us on a day we were doing procedures. We immediately suggested that she go to a hospital, but as an illegal alien with no money, Rosalina was terrified. She begged us to examine her for free -- and we agree. During the exam, it was soon apparent that something traumatic had been shoved into her uterus -- a coat hangar? A knitting needle? -- but, insteading of causing her to abort, had left her with a trememdous infection. Our sonogram showed that her uterus contained a dead fetus and a collection of pus. Unless this was evacuated immediately, she would die.
We didn't feel we had any choice. This, after all, was what we were in business for: to help pregnany women in trouble, and maybe, in rare cases like this, to try to save the lives of pregnant women in dire straits. So we began by giving her massive doses of antibiotics intravenously, cooling down her fever, administering steroids, and giving abundant fluids. After several hours, when we felt she was as stable as she would get, we performed a suction currettage, eavcuating the dead fetus and large amounts of foul-smelling pus. This had been the easy part. The next twenty-four hours would prove critical.
One of us -- a doctor, nurse-anesthetist, or registered nurse, was with her in the recovery room in our office 24/7. After a rocky first 8 hours, Rosalina's condition stabilized, as evidenced by a dropping fever and significantly less abdominal pain. Her post-op bleeding slowed to negligible levels. After 24 hours, she felt well enough to leave, but we insisted she stay for another 12 hours, after which we were convinced she'd recovered.
Today, several years later, Rosalina has her green card, pays taxes, and is blessed with a beautiful baby girl. Although she never paid us in cash, each year she brings the baby by and gives us homemade cookies. I'd say that we've been repaid more than enough -- for after all, what more could you wish for?