Consent

I don't know what to think about consent any more. I have, in the past 15 months, consented to a whole bunch of htings I didn't want to consent to. I've given written consent for violent violations of my body, over and over again, by total strangers. At least once I gave the consent while incapable of remembering my own date of birth or reading a simple sentence.

I gave all these consents in the belief that I would end up a healthier, happier person because of them.

And I suppose I have, in a way, ish. I mean, I could be dead. I am definitely healthier than I was before the operation in December. But as I sit here, aching from the exam I had on Monday, with a nice lump where the canula was and a throb where, um, yes, well...

How is this really consent? Where's my choice? Why is it called consent when it's actually just forced compliance with the universe's evil plans? Whose body is this anyway and who gets to decide what happens to it?

I had more power over my own body when I was 16. I was given total power and ownership over my body, in every way that was meaningful to me, when I was 16 years and 47 days old. And I hung onto that. Now I've had to hand that power over to people I don't know and don't trust.

There's something wrong with all of this.