I had an abortion in 2003. I was 38. At the clinic a nurse took me into a room and said “don’t think of it as an abortion. Think of it as an early miscarriage.” I didn’t like that. She wanted to be lie to myself.
The clinic was like an abortion mill. A long line of us sat in white gowns as we waited for our turn. Nobody spoke to each other. The silence was haunting. The room where the operation took place was chrome from walls to ceiling. I looked up at my hazy reflection. There were implements everywhere. A radio was on in the background like a dental surgery. Afterwards they gave me a chicken sandwich when I came round and asked me to dress but all I wanted to do was sleep.In the taxi to the station the driver asked me what the clinic did. He must have known but wanted me to tell him what I’d just been through.

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