Adele explained. “He’s my father.”
“Oh, yes.” She extended her right hand out to him, then Adele. “Hello, I’m Dr. Shoemaker. Nice to meet you.” Then she looked down at the chart in her hands. “So, you’ve been experiencing abdominal pain?”
“Yes.”
“How are your periods?”
Adele lowered her eyes, stared at the floor, ashamed she had to answer such personal questions in front of her father but she couldn’t ask him to leave the room. Her cheeks burned. “Heavy. They’ve always been heavy.”
“How are you feeling now?” Dr. Shoemaker asked, standing close beside Adele.
Adele looked shyly into the young doctor’s blue eyes; they looked dull, almost void of any emotion. She was only performing a task. The coldness made Adele twist away. But then she raised her eyes and answered the question. “I’m in a lot of pain. It hurts with movement.”
“Could you please lie back? I want to examine your abdomen.”
Adele lay down on the table.
The physician pulled up Adele’s gown, exposing her swollen stomach; she pressed her fingers against the mound of soft flesh. “Well, I certainly can feel a large mass. But I’ll need to do a pelvic exam to be certain. Have you had one done before?”
“No,” Adele replied.
Youssef suddenly said, “She’s a virgin. You can’t do one. You’ll break her and then no decent Lebanese man will want to marry her.”
Adele sat up, cupping her head in her hands; she rubbed her cheeks in frustration.
Dr. Shoemaker looked at her then Youssef. “It’s the only way I can determine whether there is something inside her uterus, Mr. Azar.” She exhaled deeply. “If you like, I will only use one finger and try to be as gentle as possible. This is a very routine procedure.”
“One finger or two. Won’t make a difference. You’ll still open her.”
Dr. Shoemaker frowned. “I’m afraid I don’t understand. Open her?”
“Break my hymen,” Adele mumbled, now folding her arms on her chest. She took a long breath before staring blankly at her father, wishing she could disappear from this entire conversation, but then she bent over as another bout of pain surged through her abdomen down her pelvis. After the throbbing subsided, she looked up at the ceiling and remembered the long-ago accident with her bicycle, how she thought she had lost her virginity back then. But she didn’t dare bring this up to the doctor with Youssef in the room. She cringed at the memory. She’d been too ashamed to tell anyone about her injury. Pushing this recollection out of her mind, she’d forgotten the soreness she had felt when her hymen tore and blood trickled on her cotton briefs. How strange, she thought, that the mind buried pain like a flower bulb; it could grow again. She pressed her hands on the plastic cushion of the examination table and glanced at the young physician who stared back at her, the fine lines around her eyes softening, then straining when she turned away and addressed Adele’s father.
“A pelvic exam won’t mean she’s not a virgin anymore. It’s just a medical procedure…” she paused for one moment, tugging on her lower lip, “like taking blood. Do you really believe breaking her hymen in this way is the same thing as sexual intercourse?”
“Yes, yes,” he said, nodding vigorously.
“Well, I don’t know what else to say. I assure you that a pelvic exam is not the same thing as losing one’s virginity.”
“Will she bleed from this examination?”
Adele stared off into the distance. The room was suddenly becoming smaller. Her hands clenched the cushion; she wanted to break the lining, slip inside it and lose herself in the foam. Her eyes darted between her father, the doctor, and the closed window. Snowflakes were trapped in the screen, making a kaleidoscope of a wintry scene in the grey-black meshing of the panel. She imagined being one of those tiny flakes, melting into nothing but a spot of water.
Dr. Shoemaker cleared her throat and said, “Probably.”
“Then no pelvic.” Youssef smacked his hands together, the sound echoing in the sterile small room, which was dull apart from a vinyl chair, a wooden stool for the doctor to sit on, and a countertop covered with a few glass jars stuffed with packages of gauze, tongue compressors, and bandages. There were no pictures. The most predominant thing in the room was the brown-cushioned examination table with its oven mitten-covered stirrups. Adele knew she would have to slide her feet into those, spread her legs and let the young physician examine her insides. Her stomach began to flutter at the thought of this. She looked at her father and knew he wouldn’t agree to such a thing but rationally she knew this was her only option. Youssef insisted once more, “No exam.”
“Babba, please…” Adele whispered, tears filming her eyes.
He ignored her and continued, staring directly at the doctor. “I’m not risking my daughter’s chances at marrying a Lebanese man.”
Dr. Shoemaker scoffed. “You’d rather she suffer with pain? What if the mass is cancerous?”
“It’s in God’s hands then, isn’t it?” Youssef replied, his voice gruff.
Adele looked away from her father as he turned towards her. She steadied her gaze on the doctor. She wondered what this woman thought about them. Primitive. They must have looked primitive—a strict, immigrant family—to this white woman in her long, wool skirt and V-neck sweater.
Youssef muttered, turning away from Adele’s downcast look, “It’s in God’s hands.” He stared hard at the doctor, his bushy eyebrows furrowing.
“No, sir,” Dr. Shoemaker corrected, “it’s in your hands.”
“Nobody is taking my daughter’s virginity but her future husband!” he shouted. He stood beside Adele. Tightly gripping her arms, he tried to lift her up but she refused to budge, enclosing her fingers around the metal edges; she desperately held onto the steel frame. “Yallah, get up.”
“I’m doing it, Babba,” she said, controlling the tremor of her tone.
Youssef leaned close to her face and raised his voice in a despairing wail. “What? Come on! You can’t have this procedure. You won’t be a virgin anymore. No Lebanese man will want you if you’re not clean. Think about your future.” He pushed some loose curls away from her face then bent down, kissing her on the forehead, his moustache grazing her, his moist mouth feeling cool on her fevered skin. He whispered, addressing her warmly, “You don’t want to do this. Don’t listen to the doctor. She doesn’t understand our culture. Listen to me. Please don’t do this, babba.” He stroked her cheeks. His touch was so tender. This was the first time in years that he’d caressed her in this manner, soft and gentle. She could remember her father holding her in his arms when she was a young girl and how she’d rest her face in the nape of his neck and breathe in his fragrance, a familiar mixture of cologne and sweat. “Please listen to me. You can’t do this,” he begged. She felt sad for him.
Fighting back the tears, she sighed deeply. “I have to, Babba.” She looked across at the doctor who stood by the door, shifting nervously on her feet, almost ready to leave if the emotions became too raw. But then she observed Dr. Shoemaker inching closer to her. Adele tipped her head in the doctor’s direction. “I’m ready.” But deep down, she knew she wasn’t. Her heart pounded at the thought of the physician’s fingers tearing open her vagina.
“Are you sure?” Dr. Shoemaker said, now standing at the foot of the table.
Adele nodded. And at the same time, she felt her father’s gentle hold, releasing itself from her face. He stood with his mouth open. She expected him to argue but he didn’t. He didn’t challenge her, only stared at her one more time, his eyes resigned, before turning around and blindly reaching for the handle, pulling open the door and slamming it behind him. She fell back on the table. Lifting her head, she watched the doctor fit a pair of latex gloves over her hands.
“Are you sure we can’t do another test? You know, like an ultrasound or
something?” Adele asked, slipping off her underwear. She neatly folded and hid them under her other clothes on the chair across the room before hoisting herself on the table again.
The doctor shook her head. “This is the only way. I need to examine you internally, then we’ll do an ultrasound.” She sat on the wooden stool by the foot of the table. Then adjusted the lamp so it would be positioned between Adele’s legs once she opened them for the procedure. Dr. Shoemaker’s shoulder-length hair fell around her face while she leaned over, moving the lamp closer to the stirrups.
Adele sat on the table with her hands under her bottom; she swung her legs over the edge, nervously shaking. Straining her neck, she turned and looked at the young doctor preparing for the pelvic examination, pushing the oven mittens deeper on the stirrups then twisting the latex gloves between her fingers so they fit snugly.
Dr. Shoemaker suddenly patted the spot near the end of the table. “I’ll need you to slide down here and place your feet in the stirrups.”
When Adele didn’t respond, the doctor got up from her seat and gently pushed her back, coaxing her to lie down. “Don’t be nervous. This is very routine. Every woman has to do it, so you should get used to it.” She let out a small laugh. “It’s part of being female, unfortunately. Come on. Slide down and place your feet in these things,” she said, pointing to the foot supports. “It’ll only take a few minutes and I promise to be gentle.” She sat back on the stool and turned on the lamp while Adele slid down and did as she was told. Suddenly, the doctor stood up. “On second thought, it’ll be easier if I just stand.” She said this out loud but Adele thought it wasn’t intended for her. At the same time, Dr. Shoemaker pulled Adele’s legs further apart. The latex made a swishing sound against her bare thigh. “Can you move a little closer?” Adele slowly moved so her buttocks were at the edge of the table. “Much better.” The doctor then opened a tube of lubrication and squirted some on her fingers while her elbow continued to hold Adele’s legs away from each other.
Adele tried to distract herself by thinking about all the good things in her life: her neighbour Mrs. Foster, her sisters, her friends, the two weeks of Christmas vacation that awaited her, her nieces and nephews who adored her and followed her everywhere, saying she was the coolest aunt ever. She smiled while these thoughts inundated her mind but the sudden piercing in her vagina jolted her out of her pleasant memories. Flinching in pain, she tried to move back but the doctor had a firm grip on her knees. “You’re hurting me,” she winced.
“It’ll be less painful if you try to relax. Your stomach muscles are so tense. Just breathe,” she said, almost angrily, and levered her elbow against Adele’s quivering thigh.
Adele took a deep breath and tried to do as she was instructed but it didn’t stop the pain. She fidgeted.
“Stay still. I just can’t,” the doctor paused, “I can’t get a good feel of your uterus.”
By this time, Adele’s entire lower body was shaking. She closed her legs somewhat only to have the doctor push them apart again, this time quite roughly.
“Stop moving! I’m almost done. Just let me finish.” Strands of hair dropped over her eyes; she blew them away from her face. When she thrusted her fingers deeper into Adele’s vagina, Adele cried out. Then, as though finally satisfied, the doctor pulled her fingers out. She pulled the blue gown over Adele’s knees, which were still spread apart. She walked back to the other side of the room where she snapped off the bloodied gloves and discarded them in a canister.
By now Adele was shivering violently, trembling to the point that she had to clasp the metal edge of the table to steady her body. Her insides felt torn. She raised her head, looking dazed. She stared at the doctor while she scribbled something on the clipboard in front of her. Adele inhaled and exhaled, slowly, quietly. She sat up with difficulty. Dr. Shoemaker suddenly turned around and smiled at her. “You were very brave. You can get dressed now and I’ll get one of the technicians to do an ultrasound on you. Okay?” Walking over, she patted Adele’s arm before marching out the room with her white jacket flapping away from her grey skirt.
Once alone, Adele closed her legs and buried her face in her hands. She now understood what it felt like to be violated.
CHAPTER 11
ADELE WINCED AS ANOTHER DOCTOR pressed the rod hard into her swollen belly. She closed her eyes to the monitor across from her, didn’t want to see the tumour growing in her womb. A few minutes later, he stopped probing and put the stick back beside the ultrasound machine. He turned to the technician. “She has a large mass and it’ll have to be taken out. And she has several cysts generally associated with endometriosis. That explains all her pain. She doesn’t have any kids?” The doctor didn’t make eye contact with Adele.
“No,” the technician replied. “She’s just eighteen and unmarried.”
“Unfortunately, these things happen.” He finally faced Adele who lay still on the table, the gel chilly on her skin. Pushing his glasses up his nose, he said in a monotone voice, “You’ll need a hysterectomy. The tumour is the size of a grapefruit. It has taken over most of your uterus, which is usually the size of a pear. Yours is abnormally large because of the mass, and the shape suggests it may be cancerous, so it’s best to remove the whole womb. You won’t be able to have children, though.” Tall and stooping, he still didn’t make eye contact with her even though she tried to meet his gaze. “Your options are limited. A lot of women have hysterectomies. Very routine and safe. Nothing to worry about. If I were in your position, I’d be thankful to get rid of the pain and heavy bleeding. One advantage is that you’ll never have another menstrual cycle.” She wanted to scream, But I can’t have any children if I don’t have a period!
Instead her quiet, serious gaze flitted from the doctor’s face to the woman technician’s. The technician gave her a small smile and added, “Just think of all the money you’ll save too. You’ll never have to buy another box of tampons or pads.” Adele nodded politely as rage swarmed in her stomach. She backed down, glancing at the picture on the monitor.
“We’ll make a follow-up appointment for you at the Obstetrics and Gynecology department so they can meet with you for a pre-op,” the doctor said. He scribbled something on a pad then handed the sheet to Adele. “For the time being, here’s a prescription to help with the pain. Use a heating pad to relieve the discomfort. Unfortunately, we don’t have any beds available at the moment so I’m sending you home, but if you feel you are getting worse, come back to the emergency right away.”
After, Adele was left alone in the dark with the image of her womb. She raised herself off the examination table and wiped the remaining gel from her belly with a towel the ultrasound technician handed her before leaving. The black and white glare of the screen, showing the incomprehensible photograph of her womb, cast an eerie glow in the dark space. Suddenly the technician whipped back in to turn on the light then handed Adele some painkillers and a cup filled with lukewarm water. Adele swallowed two pills with some difficulty then placed the cup on a side table while she dressed, keeping her head down the entire time while the technician cleaned the ultrasound rod before she finally left the room.
Alone once more, Adele crossed the room, and peered through the sliver of the drawn curtains. A half-crescent moon shimmered in the distant sky. Hours had passed since she had first entered the hospital. But the pain in her abdomen hadn’t subsided; her pelvis throbbed. For a while, she stood in front of the window and stared into the vast sky. How unthinkable that her young body couldn’t carry a baby. She had always wanted children, but today she learned she wouldn’t have any. A wave of panic engulfed her and she sank into a chair. Her arms tightened around her chest. Her relatives had often said that a woman who couldn’t bear children was only half a woman. The purpose of a Lebanese woman’s life was to marry, bear children, raise them and take care of a husband, they had concluded at many family gatherings. Half a woman. Adele looked do
wn at her body. She wasn’t broken. She had all her limbs, all the parts that encompassed being female. Though numb at this moment, she could still move, walk, dance. She wasn’t broken. She looked perfectly normal, only pale and worn from this entire ordeal. She pressed her arms closer to her chest, wanting to suffocate the pain shooting up from her belly to her throat. Something shrivelled within her when she replayed her relatives’ words. She closed her eyes. Five minutes later, she opened them and made her way out of the room and into the foyer. As she walked down the hallway, she spotted her father standing by the entranceway, his hands stuck in his pockets, his greyish-black hair ruffled.
A shadow overtook his face when he saw her. He didn’t smile or wave; he stood with his eyes narrowed, his lips pressed together. He didn’t open his mouth and greet her as she limped past the sliding doors and stood in front of him. Adele’s eyes darted between her father’s severe face and the darkness outside. Removing his hands from his pockets, Youssef led her outside into the brisk air towards the parking lot. Silence engulfed them while Adele followed her father, trying to keep up with his fast pace though the pain in her belly prevented her from doing so. She stared through tears at the back of his old coat.
Youssef slung his coat over the back of the couch in the living room.
“So what’s wrong?” Samira asked almost immediately when Adele walked into the house, trailing behind her father. Samira had closed the store a few hours earlier. Adele’s stride was unsteady. Her shoulders slouched.
Her father pushed past her mother, nearly making Samira fall down. Adele was too weak to argue and stand up to him for acting roughly with her mother. Instead, she sat on the stairs leading to the upstairs bent over in agony, the painkillers she was given at the hospital fading. She peered up at her father, but he didn’t look at her while he tramped across the room. He flung himself hard on the sofa, making its springs creak like an old house. He didn’t look at her once. Rising from the steps, Adele unbuttoned her coat, hung it up in the closet by the front door then sat back on the stairs, her arms wrapped around her stomach.
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