Channa's Emergency Medical Bills

I bought the glass vase with the water rather than a bouquet because it wasn’t clear yet how long she would have to stay.

Channa was standing when I walked into the hospital room. This seemed like a good sign. "You're standing!" I said.

I set the flowers under the TV. She climbed back into the hospital bed and gestured towards the chair.

She has been having pains in one leg for months. Some kind of sprain, Channa figured. Having lost her health insurance when her company's new ownership had cut her hours, she tried just to rest it, but it hadn't improved. A friend finally convinced her to see a doctor at Church Health Center.

"Have you watched Pulp Fiction?" Channa asked. "Laurel was my Marsellus Wallace."

By the time she got in for an appointment, it was apparent that there was a bigger problem than a sprain. Left untreated, a blood clot of this kind can cause a pulmonary embolism, which can be fatal.

She thought she was being rushed to the larger hospital from the Church Health Center for a simple test, but Channa was admitted at once. She also was diagnosed with diabetes and high blood pressure, and her body was filling up with excess fluid. Laughing in spite of it all, she told me that they discussed sticking a big needle into her abdomen to tap her like a keg.

Diuretics had been working - that's why she had been standing. She's been going back and forth to the bathroom.

She had a volley of scans and ultrasounds, blood tests, and samples taken. She was covered in medical adhesive residue and needle bruises. Finally a port was installed on her arm, and she was held for two days. She wasn't released until 5:00 tonight.

I don't have the exact number yet of what this is going to run her, but if you've ever been hospitalized before, I don't have to tell you it's going to be unmanageable. Even if she had health insurance, it would be unmanageable.

It will amount to tens of thousands of dollars, the kind of debt you lug around for the rest of your life. This on top of the lost hours of labor at her threadbare job, the medication and future visits and ongoing tests.

If you know Channa, you wouldn’t have had to read this far. She has a quality that makes it seem impossible to me than anyone I know doesn't know her. Not a drinker, she’s still a fixture at haunts like DKDC and The Lamplighter. If you visit her house, a handsome black cat escorts you from your car to her door. Her artistry, her haircuts, her tarot readings, her advice. If you live here, it's likely you’ve seen her stunning portrait photography in the profile pictures of your friends.

My hope with this story is to do the impossible, and reach as many people as Channa's wisdom and kindness has touched.

Channa and I have been friends since 2010, back when she lived on Clark Street, and I was still in college. In my earliest memory of her she was talking to me on the phone, because I was the sick one. I woke up so hungover I wouldn't make it to the photoshoot we had planned. Pressing my hands into the cool granite floor, I thought I was about to lose this exciting new friend. Channa would know I was flaky; Channa would think I didn't care. Of course, she was gracious. Of course, we rescheduled.

While we chatted in the hospital room, a nurse came in to perform another ultrasound. She seemed tired and uninterested in us, but because it’s impossible for Channa not to, she made her laugh. They bonded over Arm & Hammer toothpaste, somehow. You can barely detect her childhood accent but a Louisianan southern charm still clings to her, the ability to put everyone around her at ease, even when she is in pain.

Times are hard. If you have any money to spare, please donate. Even a $5 or $10 donation makes a difference.

If you don't, just share - that makes a big difference too.

Let's let Channa know how important she is to our community.