Yes it’s currently 2024 but some memories resurface in my head sometimes and I finally want to write them down.
A quick refresher for you regarding the Bill Cosby scandal:
In the 1970s & 1980s he had a secret hobby of drugging & raping unwitting women, and it wasn’t widely known about /prosecuted until 40-ish years later.
Now, before his scandal was discovered, you might recall he had a successful, much-loved, long-running sitcom on TV, the Cosby Show, in which he appointed his own character’s profession as gynecologist, Doctor Huxtable.
In hindsight now, we can surmise that if Bill Cosby hadn’t been an actor, his dream job would’ve been probing women’s vaginas all day for a living.
(That’s my first resurfaced latent memory, that his character Dr Huxtable was a gynecologist in that show, meanwhile IRL in his free time he was drugging & raping women)
Furthermore, several of his Cosby Show episodes showed that Dr Huxtable had a gynecology office IN HIS HOUSE, IN HIS BASEMENT where he would invite his gynecology patients into his house 😱
(That’s my second resurfaced latent memory on this topic.)
Ladies, how inappropriate would it feel to have a gynecologist appointment AT YOUR GYNECOLOGIST’S HOUSE, and IN HIS BASEMENT??
And your gynecologist is BILL COSBY who drugs & rapes women⁉️
OML I just can’t even.
Do you hear me? Literally during the years he was IRL drugging & raping unwitting women, he assigned himself a Hollywood role as a GYNECOLOGIST who had a gynecology office IN HIS HOUSE BASEMENT.
🤦♀️
One more detail while we’re on this topic, In my own life in 1989 I was a 14-year old little girl, and in 1989 The Cosby Show was at the height of its popularity and everything seemed to be going fine in the Cosby Show realm.
Meanwhile, in Long Beach California I was scheduled for a surgical procedure and I opted for general anesthesia because the idea of being awake during my surgery was not appealing to me,
so as I was going under, my anesthesiologist was checking in with me to determine the moment I went unconscious, you know how they engage you in conversation so they can ascertain your level of consciousness. Well the last thing my anesthesiologist asked me before I went under was
“Do you like Bill Cosby?”
I had enough time to process the question while I was laying there about to be gassed, but not enough time to respond before I literally went under.
The way I mentally processed it before I had time to respond was, “well that’s a random question but sure, Bill Cosby is a great guy, great show, upstanding citizen, on his TV show he portrays a good wholesome father and a professional doctor, Bill Cosby is also a stand-up comedian and he’s written a couple books and my dad even has one of his books on his bookshelf, a birthday gift from one of his brothers, what’s not to love? sure yeah I like Bill Cosby.”
But that question that came out of left field from my anesthesiologist as I’m vulnerably trustingly laying on the table about to go unconscious, " Do you like Bill Cosby?"
in retrospect has not only endured as a rather creepy vivid memory to me, but also leads me to speculate that my anesthesiologist may have been somehow aware of what Bill Cosby was up to in his free time even in the current year 1989,
and you know anesthesiologists have access to drugs that make people unconscious. and how vulnerable patients are when unconscious and completely in the care and at the mercy of their doctors.
It’s all just very creepy to me in retrospect.
No, I’m not speculating that I was abused at any point during that process, there were many doctors there and I was in good care
but just the things I mentioned earlier are creepy enough.