When she gets the call, Georgia Skyers takes a deep breath.

“Someone was violated and I have to settle myself because I’m human too,” she says. 

By the time she walks into the exam room, Georgia knows the patient will need more than medical care.

“The person in front of me is looking at me to be a source of stability and I need to be the most whole version of me so I can be present for them.”

As the sexual assault nurse examiner (SANE) program coordinator at Haven of Lake and Sumter Counties in Leesburg, Georgia serves patients across Lake, Marion, Sumter and parts of Citrus counties, often meeting people in the immediate aftermath of trauma. The work is both clinical and deeply human.

“I have to enter the space without judgment,” Georgia says. “It’s a safe space but it is also very scientific.”

She responds when law enforcement, emergency room, family members or victims reach out for help. Exams usually take place at a local crisis center, but each case is different. The goal, however, is the same: provide care, preserve evidence and create a sense of safety in a moment that often feels anything but safe.

A SANE exam is both medical and forensic, requiring careful documentation, evidence collection and a detailed understanding of the human body. At the same time, it requires patience, restraint and the ability to meet someone exactly where they are.

“The forensic part is another trauma,” Georgia says. “We have to return to the place where they were physically, but also in their mind. They are encouraged to tell the story over again which can be stressful.”

Survivors are given control over how much they share and how the exam proceeds.

“They can tell me, or they don’t have to,” Georgia says. “I don’t pry or cajole. If I realize it’s too big, I do what I can.”

That steadiness can be tested. Patients may be overwhelmed, withdrawn or unable to engage at all.

“Compassion is everything in this situation. It’s not about me,” Georgia says. “This has to be one of the worst things people have been through and I understand that.”

Georgia didn’t set out to become a sexual assault nurse examiner. She was looking for a nursing position when someone asked if she’d be interested in something else. There was an opening and she said yes. 

What surprised her most wasn’t the forensic work. It was how much it still felt like nursing.

“When a survivor walks through the door, I’m not thinking, ‘Here’s my next forensic exam,’” Georgia says. “I’m thinking, ‘Here’s a person who has just experienced one of the most traumatic moments of their life and my job is to care for them.’”

Performing examinations is taxing enough, but Georgia also discovered a second calling as a sexual wellness counselor, work that draws from the same well but requires an entirely different skill set. SANE workers meet women in crisis; her wellness counseling helps women rebuild confidence, communication and their relationship with their own bodies. 

As a wellness counselor, her clients include cancer patients relearning intimacy after treatment, survivors of sexual assault working toward healing on their own timeline and couples navigating disconnection.

One patient’s story has stayed with her: a young mother who survived cancer still didn’t feel like a survivor. Everyone around her kept saying, ‘At least you’re alive.’ She already knew that; she was grieving everything cancer had taken from her. 

She had undergone a bilateral mastectomy. Chemotherapy, radiation and medications had changed her body. She couldn’t look at herself without seeing scars. Before cancer, certain sensations had been central to intimacy. Now they were gone. She told Georgia she felt sorry for her husband, not because he complained, but because she had decided for him how he must feel.

“Our first session wasn’t about sex,” Georgia says. “I use the initial visit to give women permission to grieve. It’s important to grieve the old you, the way it was and the feeling that life is normal.”

They lived with losses most people try to rush past, then acknowledged that surviving cancer and grieving what cancer changed can exist at the same time.

“Those aren’t competing emotions,” Georgia says. “They’re both real and they exist at the same time.”

The young mom slowly learned to stop questioning what her body couldn’t do and started asking what it could. She started to laugh more after Georgia challenged her to learn from her 8-year-old daughter how to laugh at silly things. She allowed herself to be touched again. Eventually, intimacy became something she enjoyed instead of feared.

Another patient — a survivor of childhood sexual abuse — came to Georgia because she was unable to stay present during intimacy even though she was in a healthy relationship. There was nothing wrong with her body. Her mind simply had never felt safe enough to let it respond.

The issue wasn’t about performance; it was about safety, about separating the man standing in front of her from the person who hurt her years before.

“To someone else it might not sound remarkable,” Georgia says. “But for a survivor, being fully present with someone who loves you can be an extraordinary act of courage.”

Examining traumatized patients taught Georgia that victims of sexual assault must feel emotionally safe before they can heal physically. She carries that knowledge into every wellness session.

“Healing happens in the presence of dignity,” Georgia says. “Whether I’m caring for someone after an assault or helping a woman rediscover intimacy after cancer, my goal is the same. I want her to feel seen, believed, respected and reminded that her experience matters.”

Both roles demand the same thing: showing up fully present, and without judgment, for whatever a person needs in that moment. A sexual assault nurse examiner meets women at their most broken. A sexual wellness counselor helps them find their way back to themselves.

“There are two worlds I walk in, and they are closer than people realize,” Georgia says. “I chose to exist in both worlds because survival is not the finish line.”

“Healing is helping women come back home to their bodies, their relationships and their sense of self without shame or apology.”  

Photos: Cindy Peterson