By Elaine Viets In Brain Storm, my new death investigator mystery, Angela Richman is misdiagnosed by Dr. Porter Gravois. He's a wealthy insider in mythical Chouteau County, Mo., home of the one percent and those who serve them. Angela has six strokes, brain surgery, and a coma. She's saved by brilliant outsider Dr. Jeb Travis Tritt. While Angela is in the hospital, Gravois is murdered and Tritt is arrested. Drug-addled, hallucinating Angela fights to save the man who saved her.
I lived this story. Brain Storm is partly based on my personal experience. Like Angela, I had six strokes, including a hemorrhagic stroke, brain surgery, and a coma. I spent three months in the hospital and four years recovering. I've made a nearly full recovery, because of all the people who helped me.
When someone you care about has a serious illness, you want to help them. Here are several way to help – and one way to seriously tick off a sick person.
"You're so lucky." These three little words will drive sick people nuts. Your best friend was hit by a beer truck and broke both legs. Your neighbor survived a heart attack because she keeled over in the doctor's office. I had six strokes and brain surgery. Yes, I was lucky – everyone said so. But it took me years to understand that. "You're so lucky" is the last thing I wanted to hear when I was sitting in a hospital with my head shaved, tubes stuck in my arm, ringing for a nurse to help me to the john. But that's what people said – and I saw red. They meant well, but when one hapless doctor said, "You're so lucky," I screamed at him, "Winning the lottery is lucky. This is not!"
"Uh, I didn't mean it that way," he stammered. "I meant you were lucky to survive, but you're really unlucky now, but you're still here."
Food – for the patient: Most hospital food is lousy. It's also unhealthy – veggies are boiled into mush, bread is white and desert-dry, meat is gray and tastes like fried rubber bands. I was so grateful to the friends who brought me meals in the hospital. They gave me roast chicken, lobster with twice-baked potatoes, chocolate, fresh fruit, candy bars, brownies. Luckily, I wasn't on a restricted diet. If you want to bring food to friends in the hospital, check their dietary needs first: One woman recovering from a heart attack had to turn down a delicious pork roast dinner slathered in gravy. For her, that really was a heartbreaking meal.
Food – for the family or care giver: When your wife, husband or child is in the hospital, you don't have time to cook. Sitting beside a hospital bed is more tiring than digging ditches. I was grateful to my friends who brought Don roast chicken, casseroles, or sent food baskets. I knew when he went home, he'd be eating right.
Flowers, plants, and balloons: Flowers and plants brightened my bland hospital rooms, and plants made a permanent gift. I took home the gorgeous peach orchid a friend sent. Be careful with balloons. Some hospitals don't allow them because patients may have latex allergies.
Books: Friends shipped me boxes of books, and I read them all.
Lotion: Hospital linens are like sandpaper. Your skin dries out after surgery and medications. One thoughtful friend sent me shea butter body lotion. So luxurious.
Pet visits: I missed my cats when I was in the hospital. My friend Barbara photographed Harry and Mystery and put up their pictures in my room. She also had their photos put on a small pillow, which I still treasure.
Prayers: Even nonbelievers need them. Prayers keep you connected to the world. Catholics, Protestants, Mormons, nuns, prisoners, and Buddhists prayed for me. Thank you.
Cards: Cards are colorful, inexpensive, and thoughtful. I received more than 400 cards from friends and readers, and kept them all. I have a suitcase full of good wishes.
Tacky card contest: I loved it when friends started a tacky card contest. I can't print their messages here, but they made me laugh. Not a good idea for sweet old Aunt Mildred, the church lady, or Uncle John the preacher. But a mild dose of wicked was good medicine for me.
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Your experience seems to be more terrifying than dying. How did you survive the despair of recovery or not? I saw Gabby Gifford last night on tv. I was amazed at how far she has come but I don't know if I would have the courage to face it
Posted by: Susan Neace | July 28, 2016 at 04:52 AM
Sure you would, Susan. My brain surgeon had no doubt that I would recover, and I was able to rely on his confidence. Recovery is possible with the help of your friends, family and the good medical personnel.
Posted by: Elaine Viets | July 28, 2016 at 06:28 AM
I'm so happy for your recovery, and for all the books you've continued to write. I just pre-ordered Brain Storm (but I love Helen and Josie!).
Posted by: Kay Hudson | July 28, 2016 at 06:34 AM
Thanks, Kay. I have another Helen adventure coming up in "Blood on the Bayou," an anthology that will benefit New Orleans.
Posted by: Elaine Viets | July 28, 2016 at 06:41 AM
I prayed for you and stand ready to do so again . . . but I hope I never have to. I admire you intensely for your courage, Elaine. I am too serious, here. Donald Trump! How's that for changing the mood?
Posted by: Charlaine Harris | July 28, 2016 at 07:17 AM
Shriek! I hope there's a cure for those DT's, Charlaine. Mood definitely changed. I'm too scared to come out from under the bed.
Posted by: Elaine Viets | July 28, 2016 at 07:18 AM
Great advice, Elaine! When I was recovering from breast cancer surgery, the church ladies organizers 6 weeks of home cooked dinners delivered to my door every day around 5. As I neared the end of that time, I was feeling pretty good and was almost embarrassed to answer the door! Wondered if I shouldn't at least LOOK sick! But with 2 school-age daughter's and a husband who worked until 9 each night, those dinners were a God-send.
Posted by: Marcia Talley | July 28, 2016 at 07:40 AM
My old store delivered to two hospitals. We took food to patient rooms every night. But, it is up to you and your family to know if pizza is good for you. If you order it, I will bring it.
One of the hospitals is a baby factory. They deliver more than 300 babies a month. For us that meant 300 totally healthy, happy customers.
Some of the easiest money ever. Deliver to someone who has been a grandfather for about 15 minutes.
Posted by: Alan Portman | July 28, 2016 at 07:57 AM
Definitely a God-send from the church ladies, Marcia. And they must have been thrilled to see you recovering as a result of their good work.
Posted by: Elaine Viets | July 28, 2016 at 08:07 AM
Good story, Alan. Now I see those new Grandpas holding the baby and dialing the phone.
Posted by: Elaine Viets | July 28, 2016 at 08:09 AM
I have said 'I am so lucky to have you still' to someone I loved, but not 'you are lucky'. You, Elaine, are an inspiration; because of your story I got over my own pity party quickly and got on with taking care of life; you are truly one of my favorite people and, of course, authors; but you are one of my heroes too. You rocked it all the way, bless your heart!
Posted by: Rita Quante | July 28, 2016 at 12:57 PM
Thanks, Rita. I really appreciate your support as I strike out in a new direction.
Posted by: Elaine Viets | July 28, 2016 at 01:06 PM
Good advice, books, flowers, cards, no balloons. My friend Lucy took your book to the hospital with her after her quick departure from that long-ago book signing and hugged it "like a teddy bear" and readed the same page over and over throughout her stay. Much love to you . . . counting down.
Posted by: Storyteller Mary | July 28, 2016 at 03:54 PM
Great blog & on target comments. You're the best.
Posted by: Gregg E. Brickman | July 28, 2016 at 04:47 PM
Pam asked me to bring her bread rolls and butter when she was in the hospital. Cliff wanted pork chow mein. Rita brought my husband calamari from Macaroni Grill. Those little food gifts made staying in the hospital a touch easier for the patients.
My mother thought the balloon was an intruder in her hospital room. We had the nurse take it away.
Posted by: Ellie Enos | July 28, 2016 at 05:05 PM
I remember Lucy, Mary. Miss her and you.
Posted by: Elaine Viets | July 28, 2016 at 05:44 PM
Thanks, Gregg. As a nurse, you've been on the other side of this.
Posted by: Elaine Viets | July 28, 2016 at 05:45 PM
R
rolls and butter, pork chow main, calamari -- each in its own way is a form of comfort food. How kind of you to bring them all, Ellie.
Posted by: Elaine Viets | July 28, 2016 at 05:46 PM
Really good suggestions, Elaine. Thank you.
Posted by: Dana | July 31, 2016 at 10:47 AM
Glad you found them helpful.
Posted by: Elaine Viets | July 31, 2016 at 11:41 AM