Pink Crocs
by Stacy Wentworth, M.D.
Art by Edward Lee
“Pink Crocs” is the winner of our “Reproductive Freedom” Essay Contest. Judge Kim Coates shares why she chose Wentworth’s essay as the winner:
I chose Stacy Wentworth’s essay as winner for how it showcases the devastating impact that abortion bans in America are already having on pregnant patients. The medical situation that Wentworth describes also shows that many pregnant people require abortion care not because they don’t want to have a child, but because of situations outside their control such as pregnancy loss or the mother’s health that require necessary abortion care. When laws restrict abortion care they restrict the quality of women’s health, and as such, decrease the quality of life for all women in this country. Wentworth’s essay is also a meditation on the bond between doctor and patient, describing it as a “sacred space”, untouchable to the politicians who have no clue how to define or determine the medical spaces they seek to control. This bond reminded me that pregnancy has always been an experience that healers, women, and mothers have known deeply about - no matter when or where. Wentworth effectively reminds readers of the resiliency of doctors in these impossible positions, and that it is that bond between a doctor and a patient that we must now all fight to protect.
We sat in tumor board discussing the case -- sure of the recommendation that needed to be made, and yet wondering who would say it first. The young woman felt a mass in her breast and brought it to the attention of her doctor. With further work up, it was determined that the cancer had already spread to the lymph nodes under her arm. It might have already spread to organs in the rest of her body. But we couldn’t tell. The radiation in the diagnostic studies would be dangerous to the 7-week embryo she carried. Suffering through several previous miscarriages, she was determined to carry this baby to term. Chemotherapy, however, could only be started in the second trimester -- an unacceptable 5 weeks away. I watched the shadows of the mammogram pass across the conference room screen followed by the pink and purple slides of her traitorous ducts while her surgeon spoke.
As a multi-disciplinary team of doctors, we discussed the plan -- an abortion, a PET scan, and chemotherapy -- to save the life of this mother from the other interloper she now carried. We all agreed: the aggressive nature of her cancer necessitated urgent treatment. In an uncommon moment of silence, we paused, contemplating as parents, children, and humans what this meant for her -- our patient, this mother.
She sat alone in the exam room, quietly twisting her hair and looking down at her pink Crocs. I could barely imagine what she was feeling as each bullet of our plan tore through her. We were fortunate that everything could be done locally. I am struck now on what we would have done if she would have needed to travel hours to have an abortion. Would the extra few weeks (if it could have been arranged at all) have allowed her cancer time to spread? Would we have modified our plan out of fear? Would we have been able to live with ourselves if we had? If we had not?
Edward Lee, Greeting The New, painting
How do we measure the “life of a mother”? Is it living 12 months with a precious son fighting metastatic breast cancer, knowing she would not see him walk? Is it sitting in a chair as chemotherapy drips into her veins, sobbing over the chosen loss of desperately wanted child? Pregnancy, like breast cancer, does not occur in a vacuum. By addressing one, we seal the outcome of the other.
The layered complexities of the doctor-patient relationship do not fit into the straight lines of constitutional originalism or political strategy. And yet, uninvited guests draw up chairs, crowding the space between doctor and patient, shouting about what should be done and legislating what can be done. What they do not see, however, is that an overcrowded exam room only pushes the two of us closer together. Doctor and patient look at each other with even more compassion and resolve. A quiet understanding passes, no matter the political leanings of either, that this is a sacred space.
We do not have the luxury of judgement in these moments. We trust each other and push back on those who, with their own agendas, try to distract us from the heavy decision at hand. I support you, I say. It is, after all, about the life of the mother.
Edward Lee, Take It To the Sky, painting