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Years ago, I worked as a Children and Family Services, aka CPS, social worker assigned to the investigation unit. Some of these child abuse investigations are forever burned in my memory.
This investigation left with me memories of an absolute absurd situation and a smell that makes my eyes water.
I was called out to a hospital on an emergency where a 19 year old female had given birth to her 2nd child. The agency already had custody of her 1st child. This young woman appeared to have cognitive delays and limited support. She was a child, unable to properly care for herself, let alone an infant.
I enter her maternity room. The alleged father of the child is standing there quietly. He does not speak English. She does but she is behaving like a hot mess.
***DISCLAIMER: I am well aware most women do not look amazing and glamorous after giving birth. HOWEVER…….
This chick was something else. Her long tangled hair was matted on the top of her head. She was barking orders at the alleged father, sounding like a tyrant.
I begin to conduct the interview without vomiting. The stench in the room shocked my nostrils. It was a mix of stale body odor, poor female hygiene, blood, and feet.
I am directing most of the investigation questions to her because of the language barrier. I also ask her questions relating to the alleged father. You know, the basic questions, nothing requiring math, like “what’s the father of your baby’s name?” She looks at me, then looks at him, and yells “what’s your name?”
Holy Crackers!!!. Is she for real? Did she just ask this guy his name? You had a baby with him. He’s here in the hospital with you and you don’t know his name? SHUT THE FRONT DOOR!
The interview concluded before olfactory fatigue set in. As I am turning away to leave this girl’s side, I see something. I want to scream. Instead, I gasped and covered my mouth with my notebook in horror.
The girl’s hospital gown only covered down to her knees. She kicked the blankets off her legs. She was barefoot.
This chick was only ½ human. Her feet were like eagle or condor talons. Her toenails had grown over the tops of her toes. She could hang from branches if she wanted.
At that point, I just had to walk away for a second. I needed a minute to figure out what kind of species I was dealing with.
Ten years later, I still don’t know.
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