It was one of those bright, beautiful days that only happens right after it rains. As I worked in the garden, my mind reviewed the night before. My wife, Evelyn, and I had enjoyed nine kid-free hours and one of the best Valentine's days we'd ever shared.
I heard the phone rang. My son, Joshua, answering it, and the serenity was shattered. It was his friend, Julie, pleading for someone to come and get her. She had been beaten by her father the night before. Julie is only 15.
Josh and I drove over. We had agreed to meet her at a bus stop a few blocks from her house. We were both unusually quiet as we drove.
At the bus stop, we saw a figure walking toward us, still some distance away. As she got closer, it chilled me to see the emotion pouring from her face and body with every step. Josh got out of the car to help her with her bags.
"I'm Julie. I'm sorry. Thank you for coming for me," she whispered to me. I could see her trembling. When she was in the car and settled, I ask, "Where do you hurt?" Her lip was split and the left side of her face was a little swollen. Julie was "lucky," I learned later. Her injuries were light compared to many victims of child abuse.
As we drove home, I couldn't help feeling a little bit nervous. Was I harboring a runaway? What if she was lying? Would I regret getting involved? These uneasy feelings stayed with me.
When we arrived home Evelyn was quick to make Julie feel at home. My other son, John, was staying at a friend's house, so we let Julie stay in his room. As soon as she was settled in (as if she could have been settled, after what she'd been through), we began writing her sworn statement. Evelyn typed it into the computer:
"Julie was smoking in her room. Her father caught her, became very angry, and began hitting her across the face, open-handed. A more severe beating happened once, two years ago."
We took this opportunity to call social services to find out what Julie's options were. If the abuse was reported there were three options: assignment to a foster home, move in with a relative, or move back home and hope the intervention of social services would stop the abuse.
Julie and Josh were due home by 11 p.m. In teenage time that usually means at least 11:15, but they walked in just after 10. Visibly, Julie wasn't feeling much better. She, naturally, couldn't stop running the events of that night over and over again in her mind.
We explained to her the options, and encouraged her to report the incident to social services. We also explained that she was with us without the consent of her parents and, according to social services, that put us at legal risk.
Julie didn't want to report what had happened. The internal wounds were too fresh. She needed a night of peace.
The next day, after a night's sleep and a good breakfast, she was ready to make the call. This was good news to me as a father. My heart went out to Julie, but I knew the parents would be worried sick about their missing daughter. Eventually they would find out where she was hiding and take action that would perhaps make this situation even worse for everyone.
Social services spoke privately on the phone with Julie, and then I got on the phone. A social worker would contact us soon about the case. (Case # 1582-2485-5894-6020906!)
That's when the enormity of this situation hit me. Abuse, be it spousal or child, physical or sexual, happens all the time. It overwhelmed me. As a typical man, I rarely cry. I hadn't cried since my divorce six years ago, but the tears flowed freely as I struggled to comprehend the magnitude of the pain Julie and so many others experience.
It was early evening before Anna called us from social services. Julie's parents had figured out where she was, but Julie wasn't ready to speak to her parents. Anna was to meet with Julie's parents first; the police would also be present. But when Anna went to the parent's house they were gone.
Anna came to our house and talked to Julie, and then with us. She explained that because Julie was a teenager the chance of getting a good foster home was dismal. Anna strongly suggested she stay with a relative; the secondary option was to return to her parents. It was at that moment that Julie's uncle, an attorney, called. Word travels fast in families. He was very concerned for Julie, and willing to get involved as her advocate. He volunteered to allow Julie to come stay with his family for a while.
The emotions rose up again in Julie as her choices unfolded. Julie was face-to-face with options that no 15-year-old should ever have to face. She chose to live with her uncle. Anna would take her there, then meet with Julie's parents with Julie safe in another room.
As Julie packed to leave, Anna spoke with us about her job. She'd been working the late shift for three years as part of the Emergency Response Command Post for the Department of Children and Family Services. There were 50 workers on the late shift, each seeing an average of two cases per night. In our county alone, the late shift alone handles 35,000 cases per year!
For Anna, there were many days and nights on the job she didn't want to remember. There was the case of the baby that was killed. The mother's boyfriend "didn't want the child." Anna could see how callous some of her co-workers had become. She was glad that she had thus far "retained her humanity." She still cared. She still shared the victims' pain.
After a week with her uncle's place, Julie reluctantly went back to living with her parents. Social services assured her that they would monitor her situation. The entire family is required to attend counseling sessions. But Julie has her doubts. She is more comfortable with her uncle. He has promised to come to her aid at a moment's notice. If he isn't available, she knows she can call on us again.
There are tens of thousands of Julies across the country living in abusive situations. Abuse knows no economic or social boundaries. Some victims of abuse have been in your offices. These victims will probably not volunteer that information. You will have to do some probing.
But the few minutes they spend in your office may be the only chance they'll have to tell someone what is happening to them. When you ask, you may not hear the truth; not right away; maybe not at all. They've learned, maybe even been taught to cover it up. But you'll see it in the downcast eyes, the fallen countenance, or the embarrassed tone. You'll see the fear, and you'll feel the pain.
As a health care provider, you have a responsibility to find out how those bruises got there. You have a responsibility to help. It may be uncomfortable and embarrassing, but you may be the only hope.
Incidents of abuse that are not reported are doomed to be repeated. And these abused people, many of them children, will be sentenced to a nightmarish existence that will leave them forever scarred. Abuse in whatever form, be it physical, sexual, or verbal, is not a problem that exists only in someone else's neighborhood. It is in your town, and in your patient base. You have the opportunity and the obligation to do something about it.
Getting involved may be a little intimidating, but not getting involved is unthinkable. Take it from me. Saving a child or spouse from abuse is one of the most rewarding things you will ever do.
Donald M. Petersen, Jr., BS, HCD(hc), FICC(h)
Editor/Publisher of Dynamic Chiropractic
Don-DCMedia.com
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