THE LAST THING I WISHED I SAID-"Magazine" by Blake Rose -lyrics express our journey losing our daughter 2021 to drug addiction

“Magazine” by @BlakeRoseMusic

lyrics express our journey losing our daughter 2021 to drug addiction so adroitly which is why I began THE LAST THING I WISHED I SAID podcast

follow us on Apple Podcasts or wherever you get your podcasts

Direct link

https://www.thelastthingiwishedisaid.com/

 

 

 

 

A Doctor's "11-Year-Old Patient Was Pregnant. Here's What I Want You To Know About Being 'Pro-Life.'"

 

My 11-Year-Old Patient Was Pregnant. Here's What I Want You To Know About Being 'Pro-Life.'
"Our medical assistant came to me, panicked, and handed me a positive test. ... 'Run it again,' I sputtered — to buy some time and gather my wits and hope by  some miracle it would produce a different result."

Read in HuffPost: https://apple.news/AUklB3OB9T_ad2wY0PxI7Rw

or below:

One morning this past December, I woke up early to listen to judges with lifetime appointments question lawyers in a process that may ultimately rob people of their reproductive freedom. And week after week since then, I continue to hear judges and lawyers and politicians speak on issues they have no business speaking on ― as far away from people and their real lives as voices from another planet.

During these moments, I think of a little girl in an exam room I met many years ago.

She was my patient. She was 11.

We will call her Sophia.

She was quiet and soft-spoken — a par-for-the-course, awkward adolescent who was uncomfortable interacting with an adult. She answered my questions with one-word responses and didn’t quite know where to look.

When I left the room, I heard the booming voice in my head of an ER doctor who had trained me: “Don’t be the ass who doesn’t order the pregnancy test.” This was one of her clinical teaching pearls: Many young docs will order the blood tests, the ultrasound, the CT scans, but skip the most obvious, most basic test and spend tens of thousands of dollars to work up a patient when the “diagnosis” is actually pregnancy.

Hence, don’t be the ass who doesn’t order the pregnancy test. So I ordered it.

A few minutes later, our medical assistant came to me, panicked, and handed me a positive test. “Run it again,” I asked her, agape. She ran it again. Positive. “Run it again,” I sputtered — to buy some time and gather my wits and hope by some miracle it would produce a different result. Positive.

She was my patient. She was 11. She was pregnant.

I sat Sophia’s mom down in another room and quietly explained to her that the pregnancy test came back positive.

She didn’t understand.

I had to repeat myself multiple times in various ways for her to comprehend that Sophia was pregnant. Shock, tears, a cellphone call. Soon a breathless dad showed up, followed by a somber family priest, and then the cops. I remember the adults weeping in a prayer circle in a separate room and the feeling of watching a nightmare unfold, and I had to remind myself that, sometimes, the job is bearing witness to the worst day of someone’s life.

I tried in vain to coax the truth of what happened out of Sophia, sitting next to her with a large anatomy atlas flipped open in my lap. She said nothing. I was thankful there was a female police officer that was among the throng at the clinic. It was this officer, when permitted to speak with Sophia, who discovered the identity of the family member that did this awful, unspeakable thing to her. And when the cops left to arrest that relative, they headed to church, because the perpetrator was at choir practice.

 

I recall my focus ― my clear understanding that my only job was to ensure that I was there to protect my patient. That whatever happened, my job was to make sure that at every moment, Sophia was centered, and her mental and physical health were the priority. To make sure that she could find her way, in the midst of this trauma and unspeakable crime, and that her precious life was protected.

And part of that included a pregnancy termination. We would make certain she had access to it and was able to get it immediately.

There was no question that Sophia’s life mattered and it mattering meant that she would not be forced to give birth at age 11.

And she wasn’t.

I think about Sophia all the time, especially these days. I think about all the Sophias in clinics like mine, as abortion protections are struck down in state after state ― protections falling like wicked dominoes. I think about the words “except in cases of the life of the mother.” The choice made that evening of the awful revelation was for the life of the mother. A mother that should have never been and thankfully wasn’t.

And though it might be easier to build consensus around abortion access for an 11-year-old raped by a family member, the truth is that nobody, anywhere, under any circumstance or in any situation should be forced to give birth. Forced birth should never be a reality.

Sophia is in her 20s now. I wonder how she has healed, how she has processed that trauma. Did she get to go to college? Has she been able to trust an intimate partner? Has she been pregnant on her own terms at the time of her choosing? Does she have a child? I can see her wide face and her soft smile in my mind’s eye and I know now, just as I knew then, that the decision to terminate Sophia’s pregnancy, supported by the ones who loved her the most, was a pro-life decision.

One of the things my mind conjures up from that horrible day is the feeling that the clinic was crowded. There was Sophia, her mom, then her dad and the priest, and later the cops. There was the crying and the praying and the disbelieving and the believing. I remember how small Sophia looked. Her small face and her small hands and her small hips and how this big, awful thing could happen to someone so small took the wind out of the place.

I remember how tiny that clinic room felt. There was no room for politicians signing evil bills flanked by child props as old as Sophia, no room for Supreme Court justices who claim to value life while wondering aloud how pregnancy can be an undue burden. No room for those extraneous, unnecessary, useless others in that most intimate of spaces. Our clinic rooms will always be too small for anybody but providers and our patients.

And we will fight for this sacred space, fight for it to be free of cynical politicians and their divisive games. They have never been invited in and we are not about to sit back or stand by while they force their way in.

Note: Names and specific details have been changed to protect the privacy and safety of individuals mentioned in this essay.

Dipti S. Barot is a primary care doctor and freelance writer in the San Francisco Bay Area. You can follow her on Twitter at @diptisbarot.

 

 

 

Memorial Trees Planted in memory of Deva Marie Overman our dear departed daughter

 

"Thanks to your generous gift of Memorial Trees from the Tribute Store !!

In memory of Deva Overman, we are pleased to inform you that American Forests has planted your trees as a part of the Michigan Kirtland’s Warblers project. A total of 30,000 trees have been planted to help restore this beautiful forest from devastating fire damage. Keeping these sites as natural as possible is essential to the health of the newly planted trees. Please help them acclimate and grow by refraining from visiting the locations. Now more than ever in the face of climate change and wildfires, it is important to protect our country’s beautiful forests, and thanks to your donation in memory of Deva Overman we are making that happen. Take care, The Team at Tribute Store."

 

 

 

Give the gift of tuition assistance--the Deva Marie Overman Scholarship Fund at FIDM

 

Give the gift of tuition assistance to a deserving student at Fashion Institute of Design & Merchandising to honor our daughter's memory. She was at her best as a student there. 

The recipient of her scholarship may just be the designer of the clothes you wear in future. 

Deva Marie Overman Scholarship Fund --ASU merged with FIDM to become ASMFIDM recently in 2023 and scholarship funds were distributed to students in most need! So no more scholarship fund under Deva's name anymore-- but students received the help which is all that matters.

 

Deva Marie Overman

Memorial will be June 11, 2022, Saturday 12NOON--lunch will be served. It will be a hybrid memorial for both attendances in person or Zoom for those who prefer to attend remotely. An invitation will be sent out via social media/email in early Spring, 2022.

 

Deva Marie Overman Scholarship Fund at Fashion Institute of Design & Merchandising

Donations accepted at

http://fidmscholarshipfoundation.org/en/DONATE/---since ASM & FIDM became ASUFIDM in 2023 all scholarship funds were distributed to students in most need. So no more Deva scholarship fund but at least it went to students which is most important.

Day of the Dead Digital Altar on Los Angeles Times an Ofrenda for Deva Overman our beloved daughter

 Day of the Dead Digital Altar on Los Angeles Times!!

FIRST--We want to thank you, beloved family members, who already contributed to Deva's Scholarship fund. We so appreciate it. However, some of you had queried about how to do it as the original information was a bit more convoluted so now FIDM has created a direct link--which when clicked shows Deva's name in the scholarships available list.  This just went live.  Please know that we totally understand if you choose not to but we just wanted to respond to some of the queries we received.

An OFRENDA (an offering celebrated on day of the dead ) to Deva Overman’s memory – please donate to the Deva Marie Overman scholarship fund at FIDM —the gift of tuition assistance to a deserving student at Fashion Institute of Design & Merchandising

honoring her memory when she was at her best

click this link to go to

FIDM Scholarship Foundation---since ASM & FIDM became ASUFIDM in 2023 all scholarship funds were distributed to students in most need. So no more Deva scholarship fund but at least it went to students which is most important.

 

Deva Marie Overman Obituaries VIDEO Tribute & Scholarship Information

Our beautiful girl is missed like the breath of morning mist in the dawn!

1. Deva Marie Overman Obituary -All County Funeral Home, Lake Worth, Florida
2. Deva Marie Overman-Los Angeles Times Obituary
3. on LA TIMES VIDEO TRIBUTE SITE--type in DEVA
4. Or view video tribute below--
   

You can link here to a copy of the LA TIMES obituary due to be published on the following Sundays, Oct 3 & Oct 10/2021.  

You can find out more about donating to the FASHION INSTITUTE OF DESIGN & MERCHANDISING SCHOLARSHIP information --grant tuition assistance to a deserving Los Angeles based student just as Deva once was in the Merchandising  Product Development Major.

by clicking here:

Choose Deva Marie Overman Scholarship Fund--since ASM & FIDM became ASUFIDM in 2023 all scholarship funds were distributed to students in most need. So no more Deva scholarship fund but at least it went to students which is most important.

 

 

One week since you left us our dearest daughter, DEVA, we still are in shock

On 8/29/2021

One week since you left us our dearest DEVA we still are in shock regarding your absence & we can’t believe it - we hadn’t seen you in two years. 

Sadly you chose a toxic life with a toxic person who helped divide us even further. 

We wished you’d walked a different path but addiction is a monster & it swallowed you up. 

We tried to help you make better choices but the choices you made led you to Sunday night 8/22/2021 in Florida at 848pm. 😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😭😩😩😩😩❤️❤️❤️💜💜💜💜

Another day following our daughter's death and...

 One week later -Another day 8/29/2021 & we won’t be able to see or talk to you again 😭😭😩😭😭😫😫😫😫

The loss of our daughter Deva Marie Overman is immeasurable this year.

The loss of our daughter is immeasurable--this year.  It punctures the heart like a pandemic times 100 stronger than any COVID-19 outcome could.

You’ll be missed my darling precious daughter, Deva, you made it to 39 and we wish it could have been longer but the battle is over the demons have gone RIP and in the light of love that now surrounds you.