'Diary of a Female GP' follows a female general practitioner, aka Family Doctor if you live in the US or huisarts if you live in the Netherlands over the course of a week. The book starts on Monday and I began writing Monday down yesterday and started Tuesday today. So far I have reached lunchtime on Tuesday and already the word count is at 22128. My suspicion is that the book will have far over the 50000 words required for #NaNoWriMo. And if I keep going like I have over the last two days, averaging 10000+ words a day, I may even finish the first draft of the book within the 30 days of #NaNoWriMo.
In case you are interested, here is another short excerpt from the book. Again, no editing has taken place yet, just a simple vomiting out of the words.
My fifth patient of the day turns out to be a difficult and emotional one. Forty-seven year old Moira comes in and after I ask what I can do for her today, she collapses in floods of tears, "Oh doctor, I'm so depressed. I have been suffering from depression all my life, or at least it seems that way, and it is just not getting any better. At times I think I would be better off if I was not here. But then I remember my children and I pull myself together again as best I can."
When I ask her if she thinks she could ever act on those feelings, she denies that, "Oh no, I could never do that, no way," and she shakes her head, "Barry has told me I really need to see you again," Moira looks down to the hands she has folded in her lap, "I can't stand it when he touches me and I think he has finally had enough. Who would want someone who doesn't want to be touched?" More tears roll down her face and I grab a box of tissues and place them on the desk in case she needs them.
"Is there anything that has caused you to feel this way?"
Moira seems to consider this for a moment, "Well, uh..., I have never told this to anyone, but when I was twelve our next door neighbour raped me. Although I tried to avoid him ever since, he would often babysit us when our parents went for a night out. Every time he looked after us, he would sneak into my bedroom at night and rape me again. I was too scared to tell my parents about it, he said he would kill them if I did, and I never told anyone about it."
Tears continue to roll down Moira's face as my heart squeezes for her. I find it difficult to breathe and it takes all my willpower to remain in control and not show my feelings, "You have told no one about this?"
Moira shakes her head, "No, you are the first person I've ever told about this. The worst thing is, he still lives only a street away from us and I run into him on a regular basis. I just can't cope with this any longer."
She looks down for a moment, "When I was pregnant with my children I was terrified. Fortunately they are both boys, thank God. I wouldn't have known what to do if they were girls. How could I protect them?"
We discuss the local rape and sexual abuse counselling service where she can self-refer to and I offer my support. Has she considered reporting him to the police? If not for herself then to perhaps stop this from happening to others? She has considered it, but so far felt uncertain worried that she might not be believed. She does not feel he still poses a risk to others, he had a massive stroke a few years ago, is wheelchair bound and unable to do much for himself, let alone to others.
When she leaves she looks much happier, now realising it was not her fault this happened to her, although still not really believing it.
"Can I hug you doctor?"
She hugs me before leaving and asks if she can come to talk to me again. Of course she can. Even if it is emotionally draining, I'm happy to speak to her again if she feels the need. I only advise her to make a double appointment if she does. This appointment has taken twenty-five minutes after all and I'm now running behind.
Joni
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