I am 82 years old. This means I grew up in the '40s and '50s when women did not have a lot of rights and career options were limited.

I moved to San Francisco in the early '60s and attended a year-long school for medical secretaries, worked in a doctor's office, and lived with several roommates in a big house. I loved San Francisco and was very happy on many levels.

I did not have a particularly special relationship with anyone but was dating a waiter at one of the fancy restaurants in town. My roommates had also befriended a group of men who worked in various fancy restaurants, and they all treated us well. We enjoyed each other's company.

I had not been sexually active long when I became pregnant in 1962. I was aware of birth control and was using a diaphragm at the time. Shortly after traveling to Tijuana, Mexico, for a vacation with the man I was dating, I discovered the diaphragm had not been effective. Morning sickness made it impossible for me to keep working.

One of my father's best friends in the Bay Area was a family physician who I had met and liked. I booked an appointment. He confirmed the pregnancy, assured me he would care for me during my pregnancy, and refused to assist me in obtaining an abortion. I don't remember what privacy laws were in place at the time, but I was afraid he would tell my parents. He did not.

I feel fortunate that I was living with nurses and working in a doctor's office. I consulted the youngest doctor in the practice who referred me to a Mexican physician with whom he had attended medical school and who, ironically, was practicing in Tijuana. The arrangements were made over the telephone. Specific directions and an address where to meet up with a taxi driver were provided. It was a lunch counter at a five and dime store in Tijuana, and I was instructed to be there on a specific date and time and to wear a specific piece of clothing.

The bus ride from San Francisco to San Diego was long and in the middle of the night. I was accompanied by one of my roommates who also loaned me the money for the abortion. Once we had crossed the border, we took a taxi to the address given me and sat at the counter. I was shaking and very nervous that people would know what we were doing there. We were approached eventually by a Mexican man who drove us all over the place and eventually to a ranch-style house in a residential area. While my roommate waited in the living room of the house, I was taken into another part of the house and prepped for surgery.

It turned out I had not brought enough money. I was terrified I would be turned away but luckily they agreed to let me send them the remainder of the fee.

During the procedure, the doctor stated he would not be able to help me if I didn't relax. Again, I thought I might have made the trip for nothing. I have no idea how I managed to do it, but I do remember a male assistant standing by my head, holding my hand and kindly talking me through the procedure. I remember feeling extremely grateful and relieved and indebted to that man in particular.

When the taxi driver dropped us at the border, he made a point of saying to me, "Don't forget to walk right." It was at that point that it hit me that I was committing an illegal act and could be in danger.

I went on to join two groups in San Francisco - The Society for Human Abortion and The Association to Repeal Abortion Laws - to support women in obtaining safe abortions. We ran a free post-abortion care clinic once a month with the help of a progressive OBGYN who would examine women on their return to San Francisco from Mexico.

There was a part of me that was ambivalent about my abortion. There was a sense of awe involved with the pregnancy, but I knew I did not want to continue to see that man did not want a child right then, and I felt completely unequipped for the whole responsibility. I knew I made the right decision.