Finuala Dowling creates a dichotomy in her poem “To the doctor who treated the raped baby and felt such despair.” The narrator addresses the words directly to the doctor. There is a contrast between the situation the doctor faces while treating the abused child, and instances in which children are treated with kindness and compassion. “On the night in question,” a doctor is called in to treat a baby who is the victim of rape. The doctor stops the child’s bleeding, administers pain killers, stiches the wounds, and cries out for an understanding God.
While he does this, other children experience a warm bed, a sweet lullaby, a grandfather who walks a crying baby, and a loving mother who nurses her child. The comparisons are troubling. How can there be such a discrepancy in experiences? Yet, is there really a difference? The doctor does everything in his power to make the injured child whole again, which is what the child needs at that moment. All of the other caregivers do the same. That question is answered at the end of the poem when the narrator tells the doctor,
And for the rest of us, we all slept in trust
that you would do what you did,
that you could do what you did.
We slept in trust that you lived.
None of the others could do what the doctor did. They were able to rest knowing someone else was dealing with the difficult situation of child abuse.
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