The climate is confused or starting anew. We have flowers in full bloom, the sun is shining, the thunder is clapping and snow is falling from the sky in late April. I woke up this morning to an unexpected accumulation of snow! Unheard of here in southern Ohio.

This snowfall broke a past record of 1.5″ of snow recorded back in 1901! We received at least 3″ today. It was surreal. I am not sure what the planet is trying to tell us except it is clear who is in charge here. We are at the mercy of Mother Nature.

It will be interesting to see how nature survives. It always adapts to whatever weather is thrown at it. It never fully fades and has an admirable strength that we could all learn from.

This is not my typical blog post. I promise there will be some beautiful photos at the end and maybe my usual quote to leave you all in contemplation, but definitely more words than usual.

Most people that have been following me know that I love to share the joys in my travel experiences and life in general using this blog format. This post will not be that. Instead, for me, and for anyone else interested in the medical experience in a US hospital, I am hoping this documents some patient insights to my time served.

I pride myself on being the most healthy person! I never have any issues with any blood work. Never any medications needing to be taken that weren’t vitamin choices. Never encountered a broken bone or had to have stitches. I am blessed with a physical body that keeps on ticking and has allowed me the adventures that I so freely and confidently do on my own. I don’t even have to work hard at it- I’m not an avid healthy eater or regular exerciser. I’m just your average Jo raised on processed 90s food whose athleticism from childhood carried my physical body miraculously through into adulthood.

I hit a setback when I came back to the US. On top of that, I had no insurance as I didn’t have a full time job. I was still teaching online English, which doesn’t even cover the cost of living here. I started heavy periods in September which would last 18 days at a time. I endured. Thankful I was working from home and didn’t have to attempt to function with this agony except for online where they only saw me from the chest up 🤣. I applied for Medicaid, a government funded insurance for those making under $17,000 per year. I finally got approved in January 2021.

Getting on this insurance probably saved my life. If this insurance wasn’t available, I never would have looked into the menstrual issue I was having. In February I started bleeding for 42 days straight. It was not a light discharge, but one that left me anemic, close to having a blood transfusion due to dropped blood levels and being completely drained. I scheduled surgery but due to Covid restrictions and all the new processes I could not get on the calendar until April. So my choice here was to bleed out or take some meds to stop the bleeding until I could make it to surgery. Caught in a perfect “Catch 22”.

I opted for the medication, only to end up in the ER Thursday night (another move I would never have done without insurance) with blood clots in my leg and lung. A serious condition, so I am told. One that caused me to check into Christ Hospital for Easter weekend to be monitored on blood thinners in hopes that I don’t start bleeding again and hemorrhage out. Such a fun predicament for a not -even -perimenopausal 50 something. Mind you, I have only been in the hospital one other time in my life and that was for delivering my twin daughters. A much more joyous occasion.

I didn’t know what to expect, for myself or the system I was about to become part of.

I was already leery about the US medical system with the insurance companies approving the abilities to run tests and the big pharmacy industry pushing the pills, but I encountered more surprises during my stay and I wanted to share, for what its worth. If nothing else, a diary for me of my experience and emotions. I can’t imagine anyone else taking interest but it will be an honest take on my observations.

I had no intentions of writing about this. In fact I was trying to get away with not disturbing any friend’s Easter weekend with my news, but word quickly got out and as one friend said “wouldn’t you want to know if I was hospitalized?” As much as I wish I could do life alone, especially with these medical trials that we are all sure to face as we age in life, it really is people around us that get us through.

When my friends asked what they could do for me, given my situation, my answer was always the same- “get outside on this gorgeous weekend and enjoy since I can’t. Share any photos of what you see.” And by God, they delivered and I was so happy to see all their views which I will share as I continue to do my hospital blog.

I started to count the number of people that were coming and going from my hospital room. If the same person came more than once, I didnt count them twice. This was just NEW people that entered my room for any reason, like taking my weight (which happened daily in the middle of the f*cking night) or listening to my lungs (sometimes I questioned if this was a learning experience for some residents). I was shocked by the number. I am not even done with my stay here…..I still have surgery to get through and discharge….but I decided to stop here with my counts. In less than 36 hours here, 45 people have come and gone.

45 different people in and out of my room.

I literally have my blood drawn 5 times a day and every time a person comes in with a black smock on, I cringe. It’s never the same person. You never know how good they are at finding my now weak veins and it’s a slow torture of sorts. One morning they needed to withdraw 5 tubes for genetic clot testing. It was illogical to me. Why now? When I am being woken up every 2 hours from sleeping. Why now when I am weak and already having blood drawn daily for other maintenance? Couldn’t it wait until I got out of here? Then I could come back with healthy veins and it would make this much easier on me. It seems the logic is gone sometimes. Like they are just processing the routine and statistics of it all. Just obtaining without thinking of the human aspect.

I hate needles. Doesn’t everyone? I hate having my blood taken. I understand it’s a necessary evil in modern medicine and science which I believe in, but doesn’t mean I like it. It feels totally unnatural to me. To have all this plastic sticking out of me. I have two IVs at this point. Tubes hooked up to constant humming machines that beep when there’s a kink. I had a new phlebotomist who was digging for a vein in my arm and then when unsuccessful went for my hand. I literally had what they call a vasovagal episode. Basically my heart rate started racing, my temperature dropped, I started seeing stars and my head was light, my hands were clammy and I couldn’t breathe. That was fun. They called stat nurses in and there were 5 people in my room. Poking my finger for sugar evaluation, hooking an EKG up to be sure I wasn’t having a heart attack, asking me to repeat my history as no one there knew why I was really in the hospital in the first place.

There are so many people coming and going, they rely solely on the computers, but no one really invests in the patient. And why should they? Patients come and go. They all work in shifts that vary with different teams.

I just got interrupted by a call from the Chaplin who must only be on duty during the week. I struggled to answer the phone which was out of reach from my IV cord length, so by the time I answered I was not the friendliest. But I let him pray for me. I wondered how statistically they determine that Christianity is the faith of the patients here. I guess it is named Christ Hospital. 🤔 I wondered if other religions also freely sought out patients to bless.

There was something very sweet about him reciting his generic prayer. As if it didn’t matter who I was but that I was here and therefore I needed God’s helping hand. No doubt he was right and I appreciated it.

There is definitely a human connection missing in this medical world of statistics and cold numbers. On the other hand I have heard stories from my helpers here about their cancer, their travel and plans for their future, their children, their wounds and surgeries, their depression they also struggle with, their children, etc. It reminded me that even in passing we feel a need to connect. To provide comfort through sharing our wisdom and stories. There is so much healing in this as we all know. Among conversations and much wine with friends and families we benefit from sharing our lives, but I didn’t expect it from strangers. I usually close myself off to it since I know I won’t see them again (like with that talkative person in the airplane seat next to you or the Uber driver) but in the hospital I am held captive. Those stories are what remind me of the human aspect in all this. I am thankful to hear their personal struggles which no doubt helped me cope with mine.

I was quite a basket case during my witching hours between 5 am and sunrise. I literally hate mornings in the hospital where you are in a zombie like state and they are all making their rounds to get their momentum going for their day. I reached out to my sisters via phone hysterically crying saying I can’t do this! It was unbearable. I can’t have them stick another needle in me. I worried whether I would be able to endure getting old, or if jumping off a bridge later in life may be a better option that joining this nightmare medical world.

Zoe visited daily and helped me walk out to the patio area. After sitting in the sun for a bit with my companion IV drip in tow, I found God’s voice. In the sun again. In the warmth. Possibly they will discover some genetic clotting disorder that will help Zoe and Sedona live healthier lives. I was thankful for my mother’s old veiny hands that I inherited, since they were the only source to get my blood from. I witnessed the broken system but saw highlights of the nuggets of love throughout.

One guy said pulling blood was better than factory work. It doesn’t get more real than that. I often wonder why someone would choose blood pulling as a profession. I was reminded by Jake, the mohawk- Alice in Wonderland tattooed- LPN, that if all I needed was rest I would be at home. That shut down my complaint of them coming in every two hours. His southern accent and charm brought instant calm to the days he attended. The goth phlebotomist who said getting a tattoo was more difficult than giving my blood to her. And the world traveler, who, like me had tattoos in several languages, was my angel that terrible day when all I could do was cry. Every person that entered had a genuine heart of care that you felt even when I argued with them.

This morning I flat out refused to get my blood taken again. They were in at 6 am. Then another black coat wearer came in at 8 am. I was not having it. I asked him what possibly was it for? That’s the other thing about US medical world, they are all just doing what they are told. They don’t really know anything. It is not up to them to put the puzzle pieces together. They follow the orders written by the doctors who they wouldn’t dare question. So I refused and had the nurse contact the person who ordered the test. This new blood pull was for a pregnancy test. ( I already had taken one of those in the ER Thursday before my cat scan) I must be some very sexual being if I left the ER at midnight Thursday and somehow got myself pregnant before checking into the hospital Friday afternoon 🙂 I mean really people? Its all just protocol so they don’t get sued should I be pregnant and the anaesthesia should cause birth defects. I asked if I could pee on a stick instead, but they weren’t budging. Neither was I.

I was impressed by the food menu at the hospital. I was even more impressed that the food staff went by the title of “Ambassadors of Christ Cuisine”. I tried new foods every day. It was totally hit or miss. I learned it was best to order a variety so you always had something to eat. They had a chocolate brownie that was to die for!!!! But the cookies, chocolate mousse, ice cream and sherbet were tasteless. The quesadilla was restaurant worthy, but the pancakes and chicken dry as a rock. It added to my entertainment there. Testing new foods and rating them in my head. I wanted to fill out a review for them to know which plates to work on, as if my little opinion mattered.

Many times the people that came and went would forget to shut the door or turn off the light by the entry. I tried not to get frustrated as I unplugged and wheeled myself down that way to shut it off so I could get that 50 minutes of rest before they came in again. I also started finding entertainment in “what was left behind” after they came to draw blood or take stats. Little bits of tape, colored plastic, wrappings, gauze dropped. I don’t know how they juggle it all, the nurses. They need three hands each to do what they need to do.

When getting ready to go to the hospital, knowing I was checking in for at least 4 days, I had no idea what to pack. I acted like it was a mini vacation, loading up my bag with a change of clothes for every day and books to read as I lounge in the sun. In reality, all I needed was one pair of pj bottoms, slippers and a few comforts from home. I was not ashamed of packing my own blanket and Maxwell my beloved stuffie who made it to Thailand and back with me. I wasn’t allowed to shower the entire time I was there, even though I was insulted by one of the gynecologists who suggested one would do me good. This was only in defense to me asking if I should have just allowed myself to bleed out instead of taking the medications they prescribed. My sister quickly corrected my thinking on this, and brought me back to the present. Looking back at “ what ifs” is never productive.

I can see how nurses get all the credit for running the hospitals. They really are the rocks of the place, maintaining the chaos and being the best advocate for the patient. I always felt like they were on my side. Listening compassionately to my dread of the needles. The doctors are a different breed and I suppose rightfully so. They seem to be the puzzle solvers who strictly evaluate and look for the solutions to the bigger pictures. I had 4 different gynecologists visit me. One per day. The only ones that really cared were my personal doctor and the resident who was truly learning. The other two generically spoke to me and I wondered if it was a requirement that they show up once a day for protocol sake.

Just like all the other systems I often wonder what it would be like to be here if I did not have all my wits about me. Either less educated, or something wrong with my mind mentally. How would this system work for someone like that? It must be so confusing. Or maybe its easier as they just accept that everyone must know what they are doing. I overheard one patient down the hall, when my door was left open, that kept repeating themselves over and over again. And the poor nurse kept reassuring them and asking them “not to take it out”.

Being surrounded by all the machines, beeping and buzzing mechanics was difficult for me. I wondered if it was because I’m a nature girl. I left my blinds open all day and watched the sun rise and said goodbye as it set. I was level with the rooftops and took a photo of my view, appreciating the angles and trees softening the cement.

I emailed my therapist as I lost my mind the first night. I reached out to my sisters many times when at my worst. Zoe’s visits always made time go by faster. On Easter Sunday she stayed for 5 hours. We split a grilled cheese sandwich from the Christ Cuisine with a side of fries. We played the War card game with a deck of puppy printed cards, then watched a movie together as the sun set. It was perfect. Perfect company. A great new start as I knew the next day, God willing, would be my last to endure.

I ended up getting a totally different surgery than what was originally planned, due to my new condition of blood clots and being on blood thinners. Wanted the least evasive procedure to optimize the results. As they wheeled me down to the basement in my bed, when we got out of the elevators on level B it felt like a morgue. It was definitely a lower level with no windows and lots of metal double doors just like in the movies. They parked me out front and a male resident came out to verify I was parked outside the correct room. I told him I couldn’t see a thing since I didn’t have my contacts in and couldn’t bring my glasses. He then quickly informed me that he wanted me to know that I had the sexiest team of doctors inside, all great looking, waiting to help me out. Love the humor.

The surgical team was at least 7 people and a set of “tools lined up on a tray that I was hopeful would not all be used. They all seemed to be having fun together and the atmosphere was light. Much different that the sterile feel in the main ward. I was put out quickly. Woke up in pain- only to have someone by my side shoot something into my IV and I faded again. When I woke up the next time, I was feeling better than I’d felt in months. Not sure what they gave me, but DAMN is this what it feels like to be healthy and alive? Has it been that long since I had a solid rest or my body was healed and not bleeding?

I am optimistic that this trial run at the hospital was a test of my endurance and ability to adapt. I am thankful for the care and compassion I received. Also the insight to the systems that many people encounter more frequently than they would like. I am one of the fortunate ones that avoided this world until now. Counting my blessings and looking forward to getting back outdoors as soon as possible. ✌🏼

Last summer I purchased a hammock after a neighborhood party, hoping to contribute a relaxing space where we can all retreat for an afternoon siesta. This spring the trees and post were put to the test as I went out on this cloudy- chilly day to nap.

While laying outdoors listening to the wind gusts in the higher branches, I was protected by the retaining wall. When the clouds parted and the sun broke through, it was magnificent. I can truly understand why in the past people worshipped the sun as if it were a god. The warmth just brought comfort to my entire body as if in a world embrace.

My friend Kassie purchased an outdoor blanket for me and it came in useful today. It was amazing! Light weight but warm. Perfect for my nap and I am sure will be used on many other future outdoor adventures.

I am so proud to have delivered my first shipment to our fabulous local bookstore! It is amazing how the Universe works sometimes. I was feeling quite low in February and wondering what I was being called to do next- feeling like my November/December personal books sales were possibly pointless, but in the same breath trying to remain optimistic that if any of the books I sold inspired others, it was “enough.

Then I received a voice message from the buyer at Joseph Beth. Happens to be a person I worked with 13 years ago at my past design job. Isn’t it amazing how life works? The connections. The timing. It was just the lift I needed to get me through!

I had dropped a couple book copies off there at the beginning of December, hoping to grab attention. I really thought they would make good stocking stuffers for the holidays. Getting the call for an order in February was almost better timing honestly. God works in mysterious ways. I always loved the quote “Believing in God is also believing in His timing”- that has always resonated with me personally.

I picked up a variety of desserts at the bookstore’s coffee shop and headed to my friend Rebecca’s to celebrate. It was the perfect evening out! Full moon. 70 degree weather. Ice cream truck singing its tune on the Hyde Park streets. Got to meet Rebecca’s new man- while tasting some newly launched unbelievable tequila!