Abortion? Yes, That's Right, Abortion!

I've come to the conclusion that we need abortion to be represented and discussed not only in legal terms, but as an experience as well.

First off, why do I even think of writing this? As usual it's for the sake of representation, and as usual it's because I went through it. But you have to understand; it isn't odd, not at all, that stories like this often stem only from those who's been there. And it's often due to one particular reason: you didn't see it before. Representation, like I said...

"When I grew up..." ...No, seriously, I'm tired of starting every story with this kind of sentence,  but "When I became sexually, physically, active with other people than myself, of course I knew there was a risk of getting pregnant." That's a better, and accurate sentence to start this story with. And although this is "only" my experience, like all experiences it should be heard. Like all my stories, I go out in public with them because they are, after all, pretty normal. At least the essence of them is normal, and I'd like experiences as such to be seen as that. I'm not sharing intimate information about myself because I lack confidence, integrity or self respect. Contrary to my acquaintance's beliefs I'd say it's exactly the opposite - because why would anything I say or reveal about myself make me a lesser being simply because someone from outside knows? Why would anyone be? So...

When I became sexually, physically, active with other people than myself, of course I knew there was a risk of getting pregnant. And pregnancy to me was equated with pain. Plus a whole lot of other hindrances, ofc. However, what was also taught about pregnancies was that they could be aborted. But that was about as much as I knew about it at the time, and despite of my extensive reading about sex, I didn't really learn more about abortion for several years. Origination from the same parts of the taboo-tree as sex, it's no suprise, but still... it is and was the 2010's. If I though coming over information about sex was hard, then this wasn't even something I though about. Sex is at least joked about, and discussed - even if just briefly - in school. Abortion is just something that floats around in your consciousness. You don't pay much attention to it until you hear about someone who's actually done it, or do it  yourself, and actually there are a lot of people who do, (38 000 in Sweden year 2015). (And no, you won't stop it by criminalizing it. Just go with it!)"Abortion should be treated with respect, but there is no respect in false choices."

I happened to stumble upon it via a blog article one day, sometime during 2015, while browsing facebook. The article was about how abortions are treated, concealed in lies, and how the author was told by a nurse to just "take a pill and it will feel like ordinary menstrual pain." According to this specific author the pain-part was a total lie and she described how she lay on the floor in agony never before experienced.

Naturally I don't take one blog article for truth, but neither do I ignore it - not concerning such a big question at least. So I read about abortion... tried reading about it. Most information I got was from discussion boards like familjeliv.se, and I knew they were possibly giving me a sqewed picture of reality. Yet it was clear these experiences were part of the reality. I was angry at the information in itself, although time and possible fortune/misfortune would tell if what they said was true about health professionals lying to your face.

Before I start talking about my experience of abortion, because yes, I've had an abortion, yesterday in fact. I want to make some extremely important points:

• I am not better than other womb-wearers simply because I was well informed. Even if I took the responsibility to read about abortion long beforehand, I had the luck of being informed enough to encourage reading. I had the luck to know that it may be required for my own health.
• Even if this decision was right for me, I would never say it's right for everyone. What I promote is true choice and information, not the surgical method or abortion itself.
• I am not better than anyone else because I stood up for myself, or because of my beliefs, or because of my reasons for abortion. Any reason is good enough as long as the wish isn't forced upon the individual, and I am well aware that standing up for ones rights and beliefs involves privilige.
• I am not better than anyone else even for writing this and sharing this. Even here I have a privilige - the privilige of not usually being questioned, of not feeling guilty, of not caring about what other people think about me, the privilige of not ever even have gotten a hatemail... and these are just a few of my priviliges.

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My reasons to have an abortion were, and still are, as good as any. I have had enough problems with my sex life as it is and I don't need it ruined by a crumbling maternity care - years of incontinence, sphincter rupture or other accidents. I don't need it to be put on hold during childhood years. How would I even be able to take care of a child if I would not feel taken care of myself? Neither could I take care of a child while studying, never having worked, and I wouldn't be prepared to set my plans aside for one either. Plus we have the detail of me preferring to be sure who the father is, but since I got pregnant despite using protection, while having several partners - I can't be sure. Not to mention the will and ambitions of the father. I don't feel any guilt over my abortion, and I'm thankful for that, because for others it's not that easy. For some or their environment no reason is ever enough. Others might had been thorougly questioned or discretely, yet still unfairly, frowned upon. Plus, for years I've seen accidential pregnancies as an opportunity to know if I'm fertile. Because one of my big fears in life is being infertile, as I wish to have one or a few children some day - just not today. But even such a simple reason as not feeling like having a child is a valid reason.

With this in mind, I felt secure in my choice of protection (fertility awareness, condom, cervix cap) and even though I could have been more careful, I didn't feel the need to, and that's fine. This, I can guess, had a major impact on my experience of abortion, my experience of not feeling guilt, and I wish it would be as much of a choice for anyone as it was for me.

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I was not properly informed about abortions when I first became sexually active at age 15 (I'm now 23). I just knew they were possible, and legal. Although the point of this article isn't to rant about time already passed and parallell realities, I can't help but wonder: What had happened if I accidentially got pregnant at 15? Judging from the online discussion boards there's a great chance I would have been told "We do medical abortion, it'll be like menstrual pain and a bit of bleeding" just to find myself curled up in a puddle of tears and feeling violated.

However, since reading about them, I know that they can be painful, painless, or even unbearable. I also know  there are two different kinds of abortions, and as far as your health and pregnancy week allows, you can choose between medical or surgical. In my opinion this should be the patients own choice, if there are no hindrances. However, this "choice" often seems to be influenced by the staff's personal feelings, economical reasons, lack of information, misinformation, or norms, and this is not ok with me. Not for my sake, not for anyone's sake. 

"...he continued, telling me "What we do is medical abortions" as if there was no alternative."

In the following story;  my story - which is completely non-fictional as far as my memory will allow me, and takes place between January 9th - February 28th 2017, these flaws in choice will be visible. Apart from that, even if my story would be shit, perfect, a nightmare or just average - I would still have told it as I would any normal story. To me this topic is no more taboo than posting a picture of my cats on facebook, but generally I still pick up wishes not to talk about it, and signals of uneasiness in body language when I mention it to other people. All this being said; there is no point in dismissing it as being "easy peasy". Like fire, abortion should be treated with respect, but there is no respect in false choices or the silent treatment.

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January 9 - February 4. - Discovery

I had had sex. Not only with one of my partners, but with both of them. Following my chart, I should be safe, however my mood told me something different. My lust was peaking, not only making the sex as great as can be, but also signaling ovulation. In just a few days I was set this was no ordinary horniness - this had to be a sign of fertility, despite no fruitful mucus showing, dispite me having had sex just 12-14 days after the start of my last period - in my 33+ days cycles. Safe periods wasn't nor isn't a method I use, but this sure was strange... Of course, even hitting the right day of the cycle was no guarantee, so there was still a chance of not getting pregnant, and even if I was - I had thought so much about it through my life that I wasn't even scared of it anymore. My luck and stubborn search for information allowed me to just accept it, and wierdly enough, even though the following weeks can be described with words like pregnancy dreams, pregnancy- and impregnation fetishes, sore and more solid breasts, increased lust, extreme needs of sleep - including falling asleep in class, and some kind of intuition screaming out the reality to me - I never once worried about the pregnancy itself. I enjoyed it, without the joy ever influencing my already dead set desicion of having an abortion, no matter if painful, I was fascinated about the sensations and thoughts in my body never experienced before. If anything - this only made me more certain of the fact that I want children later in life, when the maternity care isn't scandalous, when it's planned with a partner, when I have a stable income and a nice place to raise them. Anyway, on Febrary 4th I felt enough time had passed to know a pregnncy test would be accurate, and the result was overwhelmingly clear - and positive. 

February 4 - February 16. -First meeting
The test had been positive, but to me this came as no suprise and I had prepared my boyfriend for the possibility since my first symptoms appeared. He took it well, although shocked and with feelings of fear, lack of control and thinking it would have been better if I had just continued taking the pill, despite side-effects. As time passed on, he got more comfortable, and trusting in my words about abortion, and I promised him to call the clinic first thing monday morning, february 6th. My other partner, my friend, was also told about the pregnancy and abortion, via messenger as he could not see me personally during that period. After asking how I felt and describing my thoughts around the whole thing as sensible there was not much more to say. He didn't seem very troubled by the news, which felt odd but good.  

The clinic's phone service was of course nothing more than a machine, picking a time for them to call back,.. next workday. But waiting one day was fine, despite the fact that they were going to call in the middle of my lecture. I wasn't far gone anyway, not even six weeks according to my latest menstruation, but I made every preparation possible not to miss my call, as the waiting line for care in Sweden can be weeks long. Probably abortion clinics were an exception, but anyway I though it's better to be safe than sorry.

On tuesday afternoon they called, just as I had expected, in the middle of my lecture. Conscously having turned on my phone signal it echoed "Pika-Pika-chu-chu..." repeatedly over the classroom while I hurried to the door. I was really hoping for non-biased information, but alas. The elderly-sounding woman taking my call was really nice and understanding, and over all I had no trouble with her treatment, but I was slightly annoyed by the fact that she immediately threw the choice of a medical home-abortion at me. And I'm not overreacting; my first question was about the possibility to choose metod, and the answer, true according to my memory, was her telling me that "most abortions were medical and no worse than menstrual pain. They were safe and preferred among women and one could perform it in the comfort of the own home." She also told me I probably was too early in my pregnancy for a surgical abortion, as they're only performed in week 7 and some time forth, but as my questions about pain, waiting time etc. continued she finally understood I wouldn't change my well prepared mind over her scheduled phone-time. Finally she answered my questions, not with another argument about what is the most common metod, but with a straight answer confirming my information about medical abortion in some cases being very painful, surgical abortion being less painful, and both being equally safe. The final decision, however, would be made at a preparing visit at the clinic a week later.

The days before my visit I continued researching. I knew I would have to persuade them so my not so good, but only sources of information would have to do, and most of all I needed to sound confident when asking, talking and answering. My lust was still high and my breasts were still sore... and bigger than their normal state. I was quite certain I wasn't imagining these things. The other symptoms were not as lively anymore and had instead been replaced with motion sickness and hunger.

On the 16th of February I went with my boyfriend to the clinic at the Eastern Hospital of the Sahlgrenska Academy. The tram trip went fine, although I was feeling a bit sick. Soon we found the building and were greeted in the reception and asked to sit down. The atmosphere was sterile but me and my boyfriend still felt calm and talked uninhibited about things from a to z.. After only a couple of minutes I was led into a room for testing. A needle was so discretely pushed into my finger that I didn't even feel the sting. My blood value was fine. My blood pressure was normal, or so it seemed as she never said anything hinting to the opposite, and I've never cared to understand the numbers. It was all over as fast as it began and with a paper and pen I was asked to go back to the reception, fill out a form and wait until called upon. There were questions about my health, previous abortions, allergies and so on, to which I replied "No" in almost every box. When we had arrived we had been alone. Now there were two other, young women in the room. None of them looked especially calm or happy, but neither did they seem distressed.

"Linnéa" a man called from the hallway, and my boyfriend followed me into yet another room together with an older, male doctor and his trainee. He seemed confused as to where I could hand my jacket but explained that they had just so recently moved from the third floor down to the first, where we now sat us down to talk everything through. "So, you are here for an abortion." I confirmed and he continued, telling me "What we do is medical abortions" as if there was no alternative, but I interrupted him, asked about the surgical one and explained my research, my wish for as little pain as possible and told him what information I had found. His manners were experienced but arrogant as he tried explaining that a medical abortion is easier, more normal, common and often experienced as having a rich menstrual bleeding. His information about how one can experience pain from a medical abortion, but only postpones the pain with a surgical one was new and contradictory to what I'd read and what the nurse on the phone had admitted, and so it bounced right back out of my ears again. He also tried telling me "Hälsan tiger - the healthy are silent" and that I souldn't trust examples of fear... Not much more time passed until he admitted himself defeated and asked me into a back-room to an examination chair. His trainee followed - a young woman with a nice smile, but very silent. He noticed my choice of clothing: A corset, blouse, long skirt and high heel leather boots and made a nice little joke about how my choice of not wearing any panties followed the fashion. (Though it was really due to a candida infection, which is much more common among women than I'd like to admit) Together he and the woman examined me and told me I seemed to be correct about my cycles and pregnancy week and he constituted that I was six weeks and five days gone, judging from the untrasound device in my vagina. The examination was professional, much more so than the discussion beforehand. Their hands on my genitals never felt odd or harsh and he seemed experienced. I wondered if his arrogance had anything to do with this percieved experience - maybe because medical abortions just got the job done, and were probably cheaper it didn't matter much what the experiences around them were. But I wouldn't know for sure. It may be as he had said a minute before, that the healthy stay silent, but I had chosen to trust my gut in this matter, and his approach to my boyfriend's question about taking an extra pregnancy test two weeks after the procedure seemed questionable - as he didn't think neither a checkup or a test was needed as that was done with ultrasound directly after surgery.

Soon I was out in the corridor again after disappointingly having been questioned (as in questioned) about my choice of contraceptives by the doctor. An elderly woman took over and led me into a tiny, white room with no flowers or decorations. I hadn't even though about how sterile the whole ward looked until she excused herself about it, explaining that it really shouldn't be like this at an abortion clinic and that it was all because of the move from the third floor. She was the one I had talked with via phone, she said, and now that it was decided I was in week 6+5 and wanted a surgical abortion she was the one to find me a date and a time, as well as give me a couple of envelopes with medicines to use right before my final visit, along with an information folder about the method. I could choose between having it done there, or at the Hospital in Angered, and although Angered was nearer, I felt they were more of strangers to me than the staff I'd just met here - even if they themselves we're not in charge of the surgery, and it was decided that I should show up at the morning of the 27th. The time however got moved to Angered anyway because of the moving of their own ward, and instead I was welcome on the 28th. This visit was free as I'd chosen surgical, and so didn't have to pay for abortion pills to take at home, and I was told my second visit would cost 200 SEK. Now I was free to go home.

On my way to the exit I was called back. Apparently they'd forgotten about a blood sample to see which blood type I have. The woman was nice, it was the same one who had pinced me in the finger half an hour or so earlier, but I'll never forget the cheesy tunes of "Careless Whisper" by George Michael, playing in the background as she now pushed the needle into my left arm, then complimented me on my beautiful clothes and wished me a good day. The song was stuck in my head for the rest of the day, but all in all my visit had been nice and my research had seemingly paid off as I got the method I wanted despte them trying to hide it from me.

February 17 - February 28. - A change in symptome, then surgery.
My symptoms had transitioned from horniness, sex-dreams, and over all positive sensations into appearing less exagerrated. Maybe I had just gotten used to them. The only troubles I had was the extensive need for sleep, and feeling sick whenever I got hungry or traveled. Although the sick feeling was esily treated by eating something, it was bothering me. During my last pregnant week I had nothing scheduled at the university, as it was time for the course's exam. I love the fact that the surgery had been booked for the day after my exam was due, and that we only have home-exams.

I would not get an answer to the question if medical abortions are painful, but I was happy not to risk it. Pain in itself doesn't scare me, even if severe. It's the misinformation that scares me, along with the lack of choice. If there was truly only one way to abort a pregnancy, as long at is was safer than childbirth I would have gone through it despite the level of pain. My point was that I didn't want to be forced to do the worst while knowing of a more gentle way. Yet I was, and am still prepared for postponed pain and infection. Although rare, it can happen. With this in mind, I had braced myself for the worst in every aspect: complications, pain, sickness, stressed or judging medical staff... yet I had decided not to worry. There was no point in worrying as there was nothing I could or wanted to do about the situation, and my overall state was calm. I felt well prepared.

On tuesday morning 7:45 am, week 7+3, I was woken from a dream about Sim City (I dreamt I was building a small country town with windmills and towers. I may also have dreamt about dragging out a couple of loose teeth, but I don't know if that was a signal of insecurity or a hint to my hitherto most painful experience in my life - the removal of my "wisdom" teeth.) Despite the relatively early hour I felt well rested and refreshed. I had had a good nights sleep without interruptions, my boyfriend on the other hand was worried and nervous. I went out of our bed, prepared an easy yet nice outfit and packed my novel "The Goldfinch" in my backpack. After going to the bathroom I felt ready to insert the two preparing pills I had been given at the hospital into my vagina. I lay a small towel on the sheet under my bum, opened the Cytotec-packages and positioned the pills as far in as possible. One on each side of the cervix would probably be fine, I though to myself. The morning was beautiful and the bright, warm and yellow light from the sunrise filled our bedroom. I lay there, calmly, scrolling through facebook while waiting for the time to pass. Half an hour later my alarm for the painkillers went off and I swallowed them one by one: two Alvedon and one Diklofenak. The last one with just a mouthful of water. As I wasn't allowed to eat or drink anything I tried avoiding being in the kitchen when I finally got out of bed at 9:30. Instead I focused on brushing my hair, putting on clothes, talking to the cats and watering our flowers. I was as painless as ever. My boyfriend walked with hurried steps through our apartment, between the shower and the breakfast table, closet and front door. He went with our trash to pass the time and misplaced his jacket when he got back, asking me to watch the time while he searched for it. It lay on the kitchen chair right before his eyes, I told him. Ready for our trip we left our apartment at 9:50.

The bus trip to Angered was as normal as any, though I wondered if I had started bleeding yet. The sensations in my panties was wet, but without looking I couldn't tell if it was blood or not, and I had forgot to buy pads beforehand. Atleast my coat was black, if there would be a red accident, and we were soon through the doors of the brand new, fresh hostpital anyway. I took a numer and was soon called to the reception where I stated my buisness and showed identification. We were supposed to wait in waiting room five, two floors up, and so we did. Since I still didn't fel any pain we took the stairs. The high, wall covering windows let in a lot of bright, grey ligt from outside. It wasn't sunny anymore. As we waited I observed the interior - modern, bright colours and furniture in red, orange, green... The hospital was quite nice and not at all like the bland, peach-coloured corridors like in the other public institutions I was used to. However, they could have taken the 1% rule about public art a bit more to the heart, which was probably the reason the wall to my right was ornate with bent, white doors.

After about fifteen minutes I was called by a nurse. She welcomed my with a smile and led me to a door. My boyfriend was to stay outside from here, and so he went to buy pads, and then go to work, which was just a few tram stops away. I was shown to a tiny room in which there was a chair and a metal cabinet on wheels - everything as modern as in the rest of the hospital. I was asked to take off my clothes and my shoes and put on an oversized hospital gown, then I was to pee on the toilet if possible. Changing went fine, I was still not in pain, but a mild ache had started taking hold over my lower tummy. I peed a bit, bled a few drops down the tolet and discovered that my panties had turned a mild, organge colour from the bloodmixed fluids. When I was ready, she led me further down the corridor, and helped me steering the metal cabinet in which I had put my belongings. I was sat down with a blanket over my knees in some inner waiting room together with other patients, each with their own cabinet. There were two women in there, one elderly and one not much older than me. I had no idea what else they treated here, other than abortion, but I seemed to be the only one to have that errand. The elderly woman in the corner across the room pushed the red button on the wall and a nurse quickly arrived. I didn't pay much attention to what they said until she got a bag and threw up her breakfast. Apparently she had a sore throat and couldn't help herself from drinking more coffee than her body managed to handle. I wondered how long I would have to wait in here. I glanced at the clock on the wall to my right. Almost eleven. I didn't have to wonder long, as the nurse soon back  with a health declaration for me to fill in. A few minutes passed and a new nurse attended to me. She asked if I had been given a warm blanket, but I didn't manage to protest before she was out in the corridor collecting one for me. Apparently the one over my knees wasn't a "warm blanket", but the warm, new blanket was a heated one she gently put over my back and shoulders. It was very cozy: soft and nicely warm. She sat herself down - a woman in her fifties with black hair, and double-checked my ID-card. After confirming with me my social security number a plastic bracelet with a bar code was placed on my arm.  I felt very well taken care of and got the feling that they left nothing to chance. Everything was under control. After looking at my form and asking me if I had any questions she described that she was gonna put a plastic tube (a veneous catheter) in my arm. The needle perforated my skin with ease and she pushed the flexible tube deep inside, then padded away the drops of blood and secured everything with some kind of tape before she left the room.

A doctor entered, greeted me and said it was soon time for the operation. He talked to me with a voice so discreet, yet clear and steady, and asked me if I had experienced any bleeding from the pills. It was a good sign, and he was happy to hear about it. Unlike the doctor at the Eastern hospital this one recommended taking a pregnancy test after a couple of weeks, and I felt that he had much more respect for his profession. Soon thereafter the anesthesist greeted me, asked if I had gotten anesthesia before - which I hadn't, and assured me that it was nothing to worry about. Walking down the corridoor, with my closed cabinet left in the room, he talked about how it was like a deep sleep in which I could possibly dream. Although most people were otherwise unaffected, some could feel sick, but I was gonna get medications against sickness. We stood, waiting, outside the operation theatre and he and another nurse explained that no one was allowed to enter as their colleagues unpacked the sterile instruments.

The port opened and the setting was like in a super-modern American TV-series. Bright lights, widescreens over a desk and a neat, clean, bright blue atmosphere met my eyes. Everyone greeted me nicely before I was asked to take my panties off and lay myself down, with my legs in the legrests and my butt positioned near the edge of the seat. A measuring instrument was placed on my left middle-finger, and a blood preassure cuff was placed around my right upper arm, and electrode stickers was fastened on my breastbone and collarbones. The anesthesist held a clear oxygen mask over my face and prepared me for the coming sensations of dizziness and loss of unconsciousness, as well as a possible stinging feeling from the fluid soon to enter my arm. A woman sat to my left, holding my arm securely, asking how I felt and further describing the warm, heavy and rocking sensation, already spreading throughout my body. 

You know that nice, relaxing feeling of hovering in your own body that you can get when lying on your back, most often being extremely tired? The unattached rocking sensation spreading from your head down your whole being? The warm happiness of good company or great sex? That was the last thing I remember, only ten times as strong.

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I wake up, smiling, with an open and dry mouth. A cuff on my right arm operates, squeezes my arm and controls my blood preassure. My first observation is that I must be high. Happily and cozily I drift along with the feeling, still comfortably dizzy. It's not a new experience, it's very well familiar to the previously described experience from great sex or late night company, the only difference being I'm not giggling, and the senstation being much stronger. I'm just so cozy. Next time the cuff is on my left arm, and so continues to be, operating every now and then, but I don't pay attention to the change of position. I do notice, however that the cieling, although looking the same - there is something different about it. I lift my head. I'm dizzy but I realise I've been moved to the wake-up room and soon I discover I have a diaper. A nurse comes to my bed, asks how I feel, tells me it all went well and I can continue to rest, and I ask her quite clearly to say thanks from me to everyone in the staff. ( Although I had to think about my pronounciation.) Around me I hear people snoring, to my left and right. They don't bother me. All I feel is like I've done one of the best decisions in my whole life. I feel happy, aware of being drugged, and wonder for how long I'm gonna be high. I'm still smiling, awoken from the best sleep of my life, and I wonder if this can be compaired to the experience of my pro-drug friends.

I thought I'd been continuously awake since my first awakening, but my memories tells me differently. Going through my thoughts I discover that the cuff changed place. Also the first thing I heard was people snoring, but I have no idea what happened in between that and one mans complaints about time. It was funny, hearing him dizzily plead to go home simply because he wanted to take good care of his time and had as a goal to be efficient. I observed the cieling lights, still dizzy. They're white, flat squares with rounded corners. Every second big, every other a bit smaller. A nurse greets me, and although  think I've told them already, I remind her to thank them all. She confirms she'll do, then asks me if Im hungry. Feeling how dry my mouth has become from sleeping with it open I beg for something to drink. I've been tirsty for hours, and now I'm given a small plastic cup, like the one's at the dentist office, filled with nice, cold apple juice. "You're not from around here, are you?" She asks, and I tell her that I'm originally from Östersund, in the north. "I though it sounded familiar" and she descibed that she was from Östersund as well, but had moved here twentyfive years ago. Soon another nurse accompanied her and they detached the cuff and the monitoring device on my finger and I was offered food, tea and more apple juice. The accompanying nurse was the nice lady from before, with black hair. They both helped me position myself to sit up straight, and adjusted the bed angle. I was still dizzy. The clock above the doors showed 13:10.

The sandwich I got was a nice "polarklämma," sealed in plastic, and I thought it was filled with cheese and ham, although that didn't make any sense since the package said "cheese" only. When I took my first bite I realised how confused I'd been. It was true it was only filled with cheese, and butter of course. With a tiny bit of struggle I managed to open the "Dan Sukker" package of cubes and plop the couple into my tea, and I managed to pour milk into it without spilling any. After finishing my late breakfast, I was no longer as dizzy and the feeling of being high had already left me since a while back. 13:28 I was given my phone from my cabinet beside me and messaged my boyfriend, said it had all went well ("Mår asbra") and that my body felt just like normal. No pain, no soreness.

The nice nurse came back and told me I could soon go home, just as soon as I'd put my clothes on, managed to pee and talked to the doctor. Then she said he didn't have anything to say. She helped me roll my cabinet to the toilet in the corner of the room and told me I was not to lock the door. I took of the robe, the stickers and my diaper. A bit of blood ran down my leg and dripped on the floor. It smeared on the toilet seat as well, but I wiped it all up with a paper and some disinfection-soap. I tried peeing but I was too dehydrated. A pad was available for me on a shelf and soon I had my own clothes back on - my small-checkered brown pants - tucked in my brown, heeled boots, a black shirt and my bear-eared cloak. From the other side of a door I could hear the woman asking me if everything went well in there. I exited the toilet and was met by a "what fancy you look!" from her and a few of her collecagues, and she asked me if I had been able to pee and if I was feeling ok. I told her, genuinly "I'm fine" but admitted there was no luck peeing. So I had to wait a bit longer to go home.

I was begged to sit down in the waiting room from before and was given the chair where the puking woman had previously sat. I't was no worry for me. The are was clean. I was handed glass after glass with apple juice, and after drinking 4-5 glasses plus a cup of tea since I woke up I said I was ready to give the toilet another try. This time it worked, although very slowly, and I was allowed to leave.

My Boyfriend met me in waiting room five, hugged me and led me out of the hospital. Despite a small sway I was quite steady on my legs. I had no pain, but a sore feeling over my lower belly. Nothing worse. As we arrived at home we ate a semla each and re-watched Frozen together. My soreness almost disappeared through the late afternoon and the bleeding has been frugal ever since.

Although I know I need to be on careful lookout for signs of infection, so far my body feels like normal. I don't feel sore unless I think about it, not even my breasts are sore anymore and I'm neither tired nor feeling sick. The symptoms all went away along with the abortion procedure, and if I'm certain of anything it would be that eventual anxiety would occur due to hormonal changes, and never because of regret, guilt or mistreatment. Not In my case.

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My final thoughts around all of this is that I was lucky to read about abortion myself, before my first visit at the clinic. The clinic actively tried to hide as well as talk me out of surgical abortion, without explaining any reason why. The argument was never that it's safer, but that it's more common with medical abortions, and the doctor at the eastern hospital tried patronizing not only me, but my boyfriend as well, in terms of contraceptive metod, research, and check-up. I wish this could be avoided through more extensive research about both methods, but most of via information to the public, rfsu-folders, extensive articles on 1177.se and that abortion should be talked about as a part of sex-ed in primary school.

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* Too much information.

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Sources in random order:

http://www.regiongavleborg.se/globalassets/Landstinget_A-O/cfug/publikationer/uppsatser/2005/ingrid_sandberg_kvinnors_upplevelse_av_medicinsk_och_kirurgisk_abort.pdf  (This one helped me a lot in my choice, although it's 12 years old.)

http:/www.respektlivet.nu/nyheter/nyheter-2014/kvinnor-kanner-sig-pressade-till-att-valja-medicinsk-abort-enligt-dansk-folkhalsoexpert?UsePrintableVersion=true

http://www.ne.se.ezproxy.ub.gu.se/uppslagsverk/encyklopedi/l%C3%A5ng/abort#framkallad-abort

http://www.socialstyrelsen.se/statistik/statistikefteramne/aborter

http://www.svt.se/nyheter/inrikes/abortpiller-kan-forsvinna

http://www.regeringen.se/49b6ac/contentassets/22f47f54bdc1451d8ad4d7c08e501de7/abort-i-sverige-del-2-kapitel-7-11

http://www.expressen.se/nyheter/var-fjarde-missnojd-med-sin-abortvard/

http://www.expressen.se/nyheter/aborten-kandes-som-ett-vardovergrepp/

http://www.rfsu.se/sv/Sex--relationer/Graviditet-och-abort/Oonskat-gravid/Sa-gar-en-abort-till/

http://www.umo.se/Kroppen/Graviditet/Abort/

http://www.ne.se.ezproxy.ub.gu.se/uppslagsverk/encyklopedi/l%C3%A5ng/abort#framkallad-abort

https://www.flashback.org/t705269

http://www.familjeliv.se/forum/thread/49037631-gor-en-abort-ont

http://www.expressen.se/omtalat/sex-och-relationer/abort-varfor-talar-vi-inte-om-smartan/

http://www.familjeliv.se/forum/thread/27251254-medicinsk-eller-kirurgisk-abort

http://www.1177.se/Vastra-Gotaland/Fakta-och-rad/Behandlingar/Abort/