An Unpleasant Weekend Away

I usually reserve this blog for posts about pleasant holidays, vacations and our other little life adventures.  We had such an adventure this weekend but it was far from pleasant.

Thursday evening, Sheila developed violent nausea.  Every hour on the hour all night.  She grew weaker by the hour.  Friday morning I bullied her into going to the doctor.  She was so worn out she was immediately asleep as soon as we settled in the doctor's waiting area.

The visit with her GP (Dr. Chow of Utica Park) was short and sweet.  After a little blood work and some imaging, (all done in house at his office very quickly) he said head to SouthCrest hospital.  They will be expecting you.

After more tests in the ER at SouthCrest and a couple of consults with a PA they admitted   Sheila.  The preliminary diagnosis was acute drug induced pancreatitis.  It would seem that one in a hundred or so people react very badly to semi-glutides.  Sheila had been taking SGT's to control her diabetes.  

This situation presented a bit of a travel and logistical problem for me.  A massive winter storm was on its way.  News reports were advising that travel, even local travel, would be difficult or impossible for the next several days.  So, I decided to dash home ahead of the storm, pack a bag for both of us and camp out at the hospital wherever they would let me sleep.

When I asked one of the nurses on the fifth floor if she could replace one of the hard backed straight chairs in Sheila's room with a recliner so I could attempt to sleep she said she might be able to do better than that.  Within a few moments she brought in one of the few cots allowed on each floor and set it up for me beside Sheila's hospital bed.  She even provided extra blankets. Thank you Casey (or KC).  You made this difficult time a lot easier.

I had a lot of time to observe the hospital and particularly the fifth floor operate.  The charge nurse seemed to live at her workstation.  No matter what time I passed she was there, day or night for several days.  Her name is Binh.  She is a slight, serious looking little Vietnamese lady with a nice smile when she shows it.  She runs a tight ship but is also very kind and thoughtful. We got to know a lot of the crew.  One of the staff, Ronnie (Veronica???), was always there, friendly and eager to help any way she could.   

Sheila's treatment plan was pretty straightforward.  Nothing by mouth for what turned out to be a little more than 24 hours, constant IV's then light liquids by mouth.  The IV's brought her back around and she was feeling better within a few hours.  She had been badly dehydrated among other things.

I was taking all of my meals in the dismal little hospital "cafe."  The best I can offer is that the food was adequate and relatively inexpensive.  Biscuits and gravy for two bucks and a passable wrap with protein and veggies for around five.  I guess I've gotten spoiled by the near restaurant quality facilities at St. Francis.  The food staff were a mixed bag.  The gentleman who served me near closing time Friday evening was thoughtful.  One of the cashiers named Jesse got to know my face after a couple of visits.  When I shared why I was there, she offered to pray for Sheila.  Nice, quiet young woman.

By Saturday afternoon Sheila was feeling better.  I had packed her adult coloring book and massive wooden art box containing pastels, watercolors and colored pencils.  Coloring calms her.  She played with that some between long bouts of reading fiction on her phone.  I knew I had packed her beloved Kindle but we just couldn't find it in the luggage.  It turned up in her suitcase later when we unpacked at home.

By Sunday, they were allowing her to have solid food but were monitoring blood work and temperature.  She had a fever that wasn't going away.  Turned out she has an infection apparently separate from the pancreatic issues.  They treated that with a massive IV injection of antibiotics and follow up with oral antibiotics.  They are still waiting for cultures to determine the nature of the infection. 

SouthCrest was virtually deserted the entire weekend.  I roamed the halls on my scooter out of boredom.  As  usual multiple people wanted to know where I got it, how much it cost, etc.  I let one curious staff member take it for a test drive.

I found places that had unused public phone chargers for our equipment.   I didn't see one in the waiting room of the fifth floor.  I didn't discover the only public coffee station with decaf (ICU) until Sunday evening.  While the staff on the fifth floor repeatedly offered to make me a pot of decaf in their little food area I was reluctant to bother them.  I mostly made my coffee GI style with lukewarm tap water and MRE style packets of instant I carry in my go-bag. 

One of my great disappointments was that SouthCrest has closed their chapel.  Over the weekend I had some very bad moments.  Times when I needed to pray and let myself go emotionally out of Sheila's (and everyone else's) sight and hearing.  In similar situations at other hospitals, I had always gone to that hospital's usually deserted little chapel.  This time, I found myself hunkered on my scooter in a darkened doorway vestibule down a deserted hallway.    

Another disappointment was the television system.  It was entirely possible to surf all fifty channels and hit commercials on ninety percent.  The programming was pure junk. If this is "basic cable" I can't believe people pay for it.  Other hospitals often have a commercial free channel or two of soothing music.  Not here.  The TV might was well have not been there.  We listened to broadcast radio and weather spotter reports on the handheld two way I keep in my go bag.  We streamed the Sunday services of Grace Community Church and our local church, Reformation Church Tulsa, on my tablet.  Thank heavens the public wifi at SouthCrest is fast enough to allow streaming.  

By Monday morning, Sheila's temperature was down, she was keeping food down and her labs were more or less clear.  Shortly after noon, we packed up and headed home. The streets were mostly clear but the big question was whether or not we could make it through our neighborhood.  Aaron, one of our pastors that drives a massive four wheel drive pickup, offered to take us home or be on phone standby in case we got in trouble driving home.  We had no trouble driving home.

There are medical issues that remain to be addressed but Sheila is back on an even keel and feeling pretty good though still needing a bit of rest after the ordeal.  God is good.

When I blog about a weekend away, it is usually about a nearby recreation area or other destination.  Pray with us that we can avoid this type of weekend destination in the future. 

New Years Day 2026

Sheila and I are enjoying a quiet start to the new year.  Last night our New Year's Eve celebration consisted of eating a high class carryout oriental meal and watching TV.  Sheila had a decadent pork belly banh mi (Vietnamese sandwich) and I had a truly wonderful Pad Thai.  We were both asleep long before the New Year arrived.  And I am thankful for that.  I slept six  hours straight which for me is a blessing.

Today, the house is filled with smells that bring back old memories, black eyed peas and mustard greens simmering in a "pot likker" flavored with smoked meat.   Soon, Sheila will add the smell of her famous iron skillet corn bread to the mix.  The smells would be familiar to any southern born child black or white.  Soul Food and Southern home cooking are if not the same thing at least close first cousins.  

Today's meal is highly symbolic for Sheila and I.  The current zeitgeist be damned, we are southerners and we will not forget our southern heritage.  Our great grandfathers fought in the same unit during the civil war.  They did not wear blue.  We refuse to be ashamed of them or apologize for them much less try to erase their memory.  Southerner's now eat black eyed peas on New Year's Day for "good luck" but the tradition has a much darker history.  

We eat the meal of black eyed peas and greens to remember the time that Northern troops on President Lincoln's direct order tried to starve Southern CIVILIANS into submission by stealing or burning all of the civilian food they could find, taking all of the livestock and leaving nothing but what they thought was inedible pig food ... black eyed peas.  Southerner's considered themselves lucky to have black eyed peas and thus the legend of black eyed peas bringing good luck was born.  Thus the southern legend of eating black eyed peas for good luck on New Years Day was born out of hunger, hate, cruelty and ignorance.  

Here in the Indian Territories the same tactic was applied. The North planned a second "March to the Sea" through Oklahoma and Texas but Indian troops allied with Texas Cavalry cut them to ribbons every time they marched.  The Northerners then tried to literally starve the Southern sympathizing tribes into submission by withholding food distributions, burning crops and stealing livestock just as they did in the deep south.  Tribal legend has it that starving Cherokee women followed the cavalry columns leaving Ft. Gibson to pick the undigested grains of corn from the horse's droppings to feed their children.  It's hard to imagine American troops feeding their mounts grain while Native Americans starved outside the walls of the post.  But, given the state of the human heart, especially in wartime, I don't doubt the legend.

Every year, in remembrance, Sheila and I cook a pot of a rich old Southern dish called "Hoppin John."  It contains black eyed peas, greens, onions, fatback and ham.  We usually cut back on the fatback, adding just enough to give texture to the broth and use smoked turkey legs instead of the ham.  It is always served over rice with corn pone of some sort on the side.  In the past, we would eat on the pot of "Hoppin John" for days and send bowls of it home with whoever happened to stop by.  This year it was a much smaller pot for just the two of us.

New Years Day is a good day to remember who we are, where we came from and what happened in the past.  We need to remember these things because the human heart is deceitful and desperately wicked, capable of unimaginable cruelty all the while proclaiming the righteousness of the cause.