At the age of sixteen, I received the unsettling news of pre-cancerous cells on my cervix following an unusual pap smear. To address this issue, my mom scheduled an in-patient surgery for me at a clinic in Washington D.C.. Unfortunately, due to her busy schedule, she encouraged me to make the journey to the appointment by myself, taking on the responsibility of driving alone. The recommended treatment was cryotherapy, a procedure that I had little understanding of yet had to undergo. Despite living just 15 minutes outside of Washington, the increasing occurrence of carjackings added to my anxiety about driving alone. However, the realization that I was living with cancer cells became a powerful motivation to push past my fears and prioritize the healing of my body. My mother provided reassurance, noting that Dr. Hussain, a widely respected doctor, would be there for me and that the whole experience wouldn't be as overwhelming as it seemed.
As I entered the clinic, I couldn't help but notice that most of the women in the waiting room were dressed in black veils and robes. Being in the nation's Capital, I reminded myself that it was a melting pot of different cultures and backgrounds, so I didn't think much of it. It seemed like a typical part of the diverse environment I was in. While sitting in the waiting area, I was given a stack of paperwork to complete before my surgery. After twenty minutes or so, the name "Michelle" echoed through the room, signaling that it was now my turn to see Dr. Hussain. Filled with restless anticipation, I hastily gathered my paperwork and approached the front desk, where they guided me down a narrow and dimly lit hallway to the room designated for my examination. The nurse handed me a gown and instructed me to undress from the waist down, providing a paper blanket to cover my legs. She informed me that the doctor would be with me shortly.
In the small, sterile room, I swiftly changed, slipping into an old blue johnny that tied in the back. I awaited the arrival of the doctor, my mind filled with a mix of nerves and uncertainty. The examination table was equipped with icy metal stirrups protruding on either side. Being only sixteen years old, I had only visited my mother's gynecologist once before and had little knowledge of what to expect. Unsure and apprehensive, I found myself clueless about the upcoming procedure. Suddenly, an assertive knock resounded, followed by the abrupt opening of my exam room door. "Hello Michelle, are you ready?" In walked a light-skinned black woman adorned with freckles, wearing a black turban and a black robe. "Hi, I'm Dr. Hussain," she introduced herself. "I'll be performing your cryotherapy to freeze off the cancer cells on your cervix." Her confident and commanding presence struck me, as I couldn't help but feel my nerves jump with anxiety meeting her for the first time.
Dr. Hussain's demeanor seemed somewhat aggressive, unlike the chubby and soft-spoken gynecologist my mother sees in our suburban Virginia neighborhood. I couldn't help but feel a sense of being out of place, as if I were an outsider in this sea of black robes that surrounded me. The feelings of not being welcomed lingered, adding to my uneasiness in that moment. I vaguely felt as though I was an inconvenience, and that I should be more grateful for the opportunity to have this appointment with Dr. Hussain.
Dr. Hussain and her assistant maintained a serious and unsmiling demeanor throughout the whole surgery, offering no attempts to put me at ease or to give me any sedation. Their bedside manner felt as uncomfortable as sitting on a box of brass tacks. In that moment, I felt an overwhelming sense of isolation in the small operating room, with only these two women attending to my vulnerabilities. I couldn't help but question why my mother had underestimated the significance of this surgery and why she thought it wouldn't be a "big deal" for me, especially in a clinic predominantly filled with Muslim women. As Dr. Hussain positioned herself closer to me on her small stool, a bright light illuminated the area between my legs as she prepared the speculum, applying lubrication in preparation for its insertion.
