I didn't tell anybody, except the father. He was suportive, but didn't know exactly how to act.
It was rather impersonal. The felt stupied, because I was already 20 years old and could not stop crying while all other patients acted so normally. I was very ashamed of the people watching me crying. I still cry when I think about it... as now.
The clinic was very clean, but I just was not feeling well. I had a light fever and was very sick. It was hard to wait there. The doctor told me to shut up, there was a nurse who hold my hand and tried to cheer me up.
I didn't feel right, but I was sent home after one hour. I had septcemia from a non-noticed water-based infeccion I probably already had. For three days I had fever, and my ex-bf, who was hosting me, said it was normal.
By the time I took a bus to a public hospital I barely could keep myself stand. People at the street stared at me as if I had been taken drugs. I felt very ashmed, even at the hospital (as if I didn't have the right to be there). I hated the medical-students comming to see me, touch me, and make their class-room out of my body. The doctor talked to the students as if I was not there, or couldn't understand English. Maybe they didn't like the foreigners, or just were bothered by my grief.
I didn't talk to anybody for days. The only person who talked to me was a Portuguese nurse. She invited a catholic priest to see me. It was strange, but conforting, to hear him telling me I should not fell guilty.
If I new I could have done it at home, it would have been much better.
People are different, I guess. It wasn't easy for me... I felt, and fell, guilty. But I am relieved I can wait to have a baby when I am ready to be a good mother.