“Just a little pinch.”
I had my first IUD inserted when I was 22 years old. I was living in Maryland at the time, mid-pandemic, and had my procedure done in Washington, D.C. where my doctor was located. Leading up to my procedure, I was reassured by doctors and nurses that the IUD insertion was a “relatively painless procedure” and it was “just a little pinch” of pain. No recommendations for pain medication beforehand, no warnings whatsoever. I was informed I would be given laughing gas to alleviate any discomfort, and thought with all of the information I was currently digesting, that everything would be easy-breezy.
Safe to say, I was wildly incorrect.
Laying down in the chair, feet in those fancy stirrups we all know and love, I felt ready. Nervous, naturally, but ready. The first hit of laughing gas gave me the giggles that only a stoner could recognise. I felt my brain relax and my body starting to follow suit, when I got confirmation from my doctor that the procedure was about to begin.
”Just a little pinch.”
I held the laughing gas mask to my mouth, but interrupted myself with a surprised scream as I felt the nurses’ hands pin my shoulders down to the chair. I screamed again in horror as my doctor shoved the IUD inside me, feeling searing pain and cramping in my uterus, and simultaneously cursing the medical staff with every disgusting, depraved word in my vocabulary.
Tears streaming down my face, feeling betrayed and violated, I was coldly told by the staff to get dressed and pay out front. I struggled to bend over to put my pants back on, feeling nauseous, pained, vulnerable, and angry – all at the same time. I was not given any pain medication post-op either. I was sent home, barely able to stand and feeling as if I would lose my lunch at any minute. I never went back to that doctors office after that day. The way they had lied to me, held me down, and then hurried me out the door like some pig pre-slaughter.
“Just a little pinch.”
Fast forward five years, where I’m now currently living in Amsterdam, Holland. Although, in comparison to the US, I had to get on a waiting list for my IUD removal and reinsertion, the doctors assured me that this time would be entirely different than my past experience. I was given pain medication to take beforehand, unlike the first time. My mother accompanied me for moral support to OLVG, where I was admitted promptly and taken back for my procedure. At 11:15, I sat down on the chair. First thing I noticed was that this chair was different. It was designed to specifically tilt my pelvis at a more comfortable angle for procedures like this. My doctor asked for consent with every movement, every touch. There was absolutely no liberties taken with this doctor – he was a professional and took the time to make sure I was feeling comfortable, since the hospital had knowledge of what had transpired before.
“If it hurts at any point, let me know and I will stop.”
His reassurance and kindness blew me away. Every step he took was calm, calculated, and professional. I couldn’t help but cry as the procedure continued – not from the pain, but from the past trauma. The relief that I didn’t have to go through that awful experience again. Instead, my mind was given a new, healthier memory: a doctor who actually cares about his patients. I specifically remember him seeing me cry post-op, and instead of sitting there coldly or telling me to get dressed, he told me to take my time and apologised to me. I didn’t feel pity, I felt empathy, strangely enough. Even though I’m pretty certain my doctor had never been on the receiving end of this operation, I could tell he was genuinely hurt seeing me that shaken. I got myself up, got dressed, and left the hospital at 11:37. 17 minutes, and I was safe from pregnancy for another five years.
I understand that this encounter is my unique experience, and I do not mean to undermine anybody else’s by sharing mine. I personally found that the professionalism, bedside manner, and overall care when it comes to medical treatment in the EU is at least ten times better than the United States. I felt seen, heard, and respected the entire way – something that we all deserve.
All my love,
Miranda Renée
Disclaimer: Photo is stock photo content. All words are my own.
