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Standing Rock Recap Part II (12/13-12/19)

Tuesday 13 December 2016

Full Moon!

I spent all day at the medical yurt, starting to feel more comfortable with the pace and routine there. It was a hub for the camp, I realized. People brought us food every few hours, which was good but almost always cold by the time it got to us. Security personnel stopped in frequently to check on us and to coordinate transportation for patients. We were shipping a lot of people out during those first few days I was at camp, either to the Cannon Ball rec center so they could have a warm place to sleep, or out of camp altogether for medical attention or simply because they weren’t prepared to stick around in that kind of weather (the forecast was predicting temps of -25F for the weekend ahead, feeling more like -50F with wind chill factored in).

At one point, the Bureau of Indian Affairs (BIA, which are basically the rez cops) came by to inspect our operation and inquire about our plans for the arctic blast over the weekend. I’m not sure of their exact relationship with the camp or the water protectors, but everyone seemed pretty tense about their arrival. They seemed friendly enough to me, but several members of camp security hung in and around the medical yurt while they were there and even their SUV out of camp to make sure they left.

I agreed to do an overnight shift at the medical yurt that evening with Liz, the physician. Despite having a steady stream of patient, the night was fairly calm—we did a couple of breathing treatments, a few dressing changes, treated a mild case of hypothermia, and visited with a sweet young man with pneumonia.

We stayed up all night, bullshitting with the “Kichita” security when there weren’t patients to see. Apparently, the “Kichita” (not even sure if I’m spelling it correctly, but I am spelling it phonetically) are different than the self-appointed security personnel that had been manning the gate when I arrived. The word means “protector.” From what I understand, they are the original security force in camp, before things grew and became more structured. In fact, some kichita suggested the gate guards might even be infiltrators. Anyway, they seemed like a nice bunch, though a little rough around the edges. But what can you expect? These are the guys who’d been getting shot with rubber bullets and maced for weeks and months.

At one point, in the wee hours of the morning, a man came to the yurt, followed by a dog and a young coyote. Apparently he had served in the military at some point and seemed pretty hardy himself. However, he came to warn us that he was staying in an outlying camp near the front line that didn’t seem to be visited often by anyone but its inhabitants. He expressed concern that it was difficult to get firewood and water out that far and that several of the structures people were staying in out there seemed inadequate for the worsening weather conditions. Some of his fellow campers were elders, he told us, and a few of them were pretty sick but seemed resistant to seeking medical care. “They’re prepared to die out here,” he said seriously. We asked where he was located, what his specific short-term needs were, and if there was any urgent need to evacuate campers. He assured us that there was no immediate urgency, but that he just wanted us to be aware of the situation. “Besides,” he added, “who are we to tell any of those Natives that they can’t stay on their land, that they can’t die here if that’s what they want, if they feel it’s their time?” Liz and I looked at one another solemnly, in silent recognition of the fact that we don’t have any right to make that call.

A little while later one of the “bottom liners” (a person who’s been in camp a long time and plans to stick it out for the duration) came into our tent. He’s worked in a variety of roles during his time at Standing Rock, from construction to medical to security. I’d had a wonderful heart-to-heart with him a day or two before and was happy to see him again. “Joe! Can I hug you?” I asked as he slowly entered the yurt and sat in the nearest plastic chair.

“Give me just a minute,” he said, holding up his hand. He had a confused look on his face. “I woke up to my carbon monoxide detector this morning,” he announced.

Liz and I mobilized immediately to hook him up to oxygen and check his vitals. He told us how he’d spent several minutes, when he first woke up, trying to figure out why his phone was alarming so early, until he realized it wasn’t actually his phone. At least he’d had the presence of mind to put on his boots and jacket before wandering through the cold to our medical yurt! He started to come around pretty quickly, once we had the oxygen flowing, and asked for an Excedrine for his headache. How terrifying, I thought, to see such a dear friend experience such a close call! Thank goodness we had been handing out CO monitors left and right.

Wednesday 14 December 2016

Sunrise came and I began to wonder where our relief was. I had made it through most of the night with plenty of energy, but I was started to feel really run down by about 8am. I also suspected I was beginning to get sick, judging from the runny nose and the dry/scratchy feeling in the back of my throat. I had been asked to go down to Rosebud and fill in later that day because they were short a medic. I was trying to figure out when I would sleep. I think it was around 10am when I finally left Oceti and headed back to the casino for a nap and a shower. Here’s an update I posted before my nap:

Good morning friends! I am at the clinic this morning...have been up and running for over 24hrs so please excuse my rambling... I worked the night shift last night, and we weren't exactly busy but we stayed steady all night. Weather is very cold--high of 6 degrees and low of -12 today. Everyone here is working very hard to prepare for the winter and make sure everyone stays safe in these challenging conditions. The situation here has been very eye-opening to say the least. It has been a great honor to be on this land and care for those who have served on the front lines of this fight--to hear their stories and care for their wounds and humbly receive their gratitude for my service (wow really?? Thank YOU). The violence has stalled but the battle is far from over. Every day brings new and unexpected situations to be dealt with, but people are eager to help one another. The power of prayer is still strong here and needs are met each day in the most synchronistic ways. I have learned and experienced so much already; I can't believe it's not even been 48hrs since I arrived on site. There has been so much going on all around me that I'm am finding it difficult to connect with people "out there" individually, but please know I hear your words and appreciate your kind messages. Also, there is only so much detail I will share, knowing DAPL is monitoring communications coming out of the area. (Hi ETP & co.!) The only other thing I can say is...this is surreal, yet so real. I'm right where I want and need to be right now. Mni wiconi!!

And another update posted at some point later that day:

Standing Rock Medic and Healer Council is doing some really vital work for people on the front lines at this very moment, building safe cold-weather shelters, transporting people off site when health conditions require, and making sure all people who are still in camp are provided for, among other things. If you wish to support the #NODAPL movement please donate to the link below. Material donations are in excess at this time and more flexible monetary support is needed. Also, please see the article attached to this link. Highway 1806, the main route to Bismarck ND, remains blocked at this time, which lengthens a vital emergency exit route not only from the water protectors' camp, but also from Cannon Ball and the Prairie Knights Casino, Ft Yates, etc. Please spread the awareness and help create pressure to reopen this road so that EMS can use it in the event of an emergency.

I only napped for about an hour and a half before heading to Rosebud. I still felt run down, but I had a sense of urgency about getting back to camp to relieve the other medic team. There was only one RN at Rosebud, as the herbalist was driving the departing medic to the airport. I arrived around 3 to a quiet yurt on the outskirts of Rosebud camp, which is the camp closest to the road on the South side (the rez side) of the river.

Rachel is an RN that came to Standing Rock fresh out of nursing school, sometime in August or September. She only intended to remain in camp for a short while but wound up extending her stay there and even turned down the job she had lined up back home in Washington state. She is dark-haired and beautiful, short but sturdy, of Native descent, and in turns is quiet and contemplative or exuberant, bursting with energy and exclamation. Her little schnoodle (schnauzer-poodle) Neville lives in the medical yurt with her and has at least as much sass as his owner, but none of the tact.

Rachel was relieved to see me arrive. She adeptly manages the majority of the work that goes into operating Rosebud medical, which means she rarely gets to leave camp. I offered her my room key and she left with her boyfriend, Dallon, another indigenous man from Minnesota. They were gone for about 6 hours. In that time, not a single patient showed up to the yurt. I spent the evening orienting myself to the supplies and examining the supplements and other natural remedies on the shelves. I bandaged a burn I’d sustained early that morning at Oceti medical by resting my hand against the pipe of the wood burning stove, because I was tired and not thinking. I helped myself to cough drops and immune boosting tea. I napped a bit on a cot, thankful for the quiet so I could at least try to make up for the rest I did not get overnight or that afternoon. I started to read a book called “Against Civilization,” which is actually a compilation of essays from the 19th century through today about the dark side of this wonder we call “civilization.” I’ll have to get myself a copy so I can finish it.

Here is a post I wrote while sitting in the yurt, enjoying the solitude and quiet:

It's another cold night. Darkness comes quickly, and then DAPL floodlights replace the black SUVs on the hilltops as beacons of that which we have gathered here to change. During a short walk outside, I feel my nose hairs freeze together with each inhale. I'm spending as little time outside as possible right now... My body is shocked by the weather and I have a cold and sore throat, as do many others in camp. But I must tell you, I am very fortunate, for my post here is inside a medic yurt, kept warm throughout the day and night. I have plenty of hot herbal teas to fortify my body. I also have a fabulous combination of modern western/allopathic technologies and natural/holistic/herbal remedies at my fingertips. It's quiet at the moment and I have time to rest and read. I have ALL that I need right now, and I know I'll be healthy again soon. The realization that this is a manifestation of yet another dream, as a health care provider and student of healing arts and of life itself, brings tears of gratitude to my eyes. The chants of our indigenous brothers and sisters drift across the river, now frozen solid. Hammers echo from the various construction sites around Standing Rock. The radio crackles at my desk. The future could bring anything, but I have absolute faith in what we are creating together here and now.

People stopped in to check on me, to say hello and to see if I needed anything at all. At one point, a man named Adam from Massachusetts came by. He has experience as a wilderness medic but had been told his skill set wasn’t necessarily appropriate for the medic team, so he spent most of his time in camp helping out with construction projects. We sat and talked for perhaps an hour. I found his company easy and pleasant. He was actually good at holding a conversation—asking questions, listening to answers, responding thoughtfully. Perhaps that was his nature, or perhaps he has developed those skills in camp, for I was beginning to notice that in the absence of Wi-Fi and cell phone reception, people seemed to be more present with one another here. They hold conversations—conversations with substance. They read aloud together. They work together and serve one another and attempt to resolve any conflicts that arise with the application of fairness, awareness, and honesty.

Rachel and Dallon returned in the midst of my conversation with Adam. Someone else stopped by the tent around that time too, and it felt somewhat like the reverie my companion and I had been in was shattered. I felt the pressure of the sudden influx of energy and chatter. I was exhausted, I realized. Rachel asked me how I felt about doing an “overnight” at the tent, and I felt a slight panic. I wanted so badly to help, but I also realized I was definitely falling ill. I explained to her how my body was feeling and how little sleep I had gotten in the past 36 hours. “Oh!” she said sympathetically, “go and sleep! Absolutely, care for yourself.” I felt so relieved to be heading back to the lodge to rest.

Thursday 15 December 2016

I went to bed around 11 last night, fully expecting to sleep deeply and wake up feeling much better. But around 1:30am I awoke with violent chills. I got out of bed feeling weak and shaky. I layered fleece over my long underwear, pulled thick socks over my feet, and climbed back into bed with the covers over my head, but I couldn’t seem to lie still or get warm. I tossed and turned, my limbs twisting around one another, trying to create friction to warm my shivering body. Was this a fever or a demonic possession, I wondered? I couldn’t remember ever feeling that way before. Finally, after a couple of hours, I feel into a restless sleep.

When I awoke the next morning, I scarcely felt like I could get out of bed, much less go back to camp and work in the medical yurt. My sense of guilt at not being able to fulfill my duty was almost (almost) completely overshadowed by how absolutely shitty I felt. I texted Rachel to tell her I couldn’t make it to camp that day.

I lay in bed most of the day, only venturing out once to go to the healing space at the lodge, room 331. There I met a lovely California goddess named Lakshmi. She was quite petite with freckles and sandy-colored braids that hung below her hips. She gave me fire cider, which burned inside my head and made me cough. She made me ozone water and tea with slippery elm for my throat. I sat in a chair, gratefully sipping her concoctions and trying to blow my nose without contaminating everything around me. After she’d given me all the remedies she could think of, I headed back to my room, back to bed, hoping that tomorrow I would finally wake up and feel well again.

Friday 16 December 2016

I woke up feeling not quite as bad as the day before, but definitely not well. I had to check out of the hotel, though, as there were no rooms available over the weekend. I packed my things and loaded the car slowly. I was slightly concerned about the prospect of spending the weekend at camp in the sub-zero temperatures while feeling so sick, but there were no other options, so back to Standing Rock I went.

Business at Rosebud medical was slow as usual, thank heavens. I met John, a nurse, homeopath, and acupuncturist from Minneapolis. He gave me 2 acupuncture treatments to try to open up my nostrils and otherwise relieve my symptoms. The left nostril seemed to open readily, but the right side was more stubborn. I began to wonder about the broader energetic picture of my illness—why so sick, why now? Why couldn’t I sleep this off like most other illnesses I’ve experienced? Was it because I partied in Minneapolis or didn’t sleep that night at Oceti and thus knocked out my immune system? Was it some kind of healing release triggered by being in Standing Rock, as Rachel suggested? Was it an empathetic thing, a sign that I was picking up on all the energies around me? Had DAPL unleashed biological warfare to make everyone in camp sick?

Other than to go to the bathroom or to the acupuncture tent, I stayed inside, in the warmth of the yurt, as much as possible. I drank tea and hung my head over steaming pots of herbs, at the suggestion of Jacque and Rachel, to try to loosen my sinuses. I couldn’t taste or smell anything at all, and I didn’t have much of an appetite.

Saturday 17 December 2016

Coldest day yet! It got just as cold as predicted (-26F plus about another 24 below with wind chill).

We were awoken early in the morning by the arrival of a man named Jeremiah. He entered the yurt grunting and yelling that his hand was “crushed,” which certainly got our attention. I was expecting blood and gristle when we flipped on the lights, but as it turned out, “crushed” was a figure of speech. Jeremiah was suffering from a flare-up of chronic tendinitis in his hands from years of manual labor. More recently, long days of chopping and hauling wood, working the security gate, and barely sleeping at all had taken their toll. He was in so much pain he couldn’t sleep at that point. He was angry and hurting and couldn’t get any relief. He refused Tylenol or ibuprofen, insisting they wouldn’t do anything for him. He begged us for something “stronger,” asking if we had any CBD salve, which we didn’t. I crawled out of my bed and rummaged through the drawers to find a cream containing menthol, capsaicin, arnica, and a few other natural analgesics. I massaged some of it gently around the heel of his hand. He said it seemed to help a bit, so I squeezed some into a plastic salad dressing container and gave it to him to take while the others planned to transport him to the rec center where he could sleep a while without having to tend a wood stove, at least.

We didn’t have many visitors at the yurt the rest of the day, which was fine because I didn’t have much energy to care for others at that point. Rachel went out and did well-visits all day, checking on people she had cared for previously and seeing what others might need in the way of supplies or medical care. I tidied up the yurt a bit, only to find it was cluttered and messy again by the end of the day with the constant influx and rearranging of supplies. But I suppose it was useful to have me around, if only to free Rachel to walk about the camp. Rather her than me, I thought. I was no match for that kind of cold.

Orka was gone most of the day after leaving to take Jeremiah to the rec center. Apparently he had gone from there to the casino, where he was taken to a room and allowed to rest. Orka met an RN at the rec center, where they seemed to have a surplus of providers. Her name was Kate and he brought her back to Rosebud to see if she could fill in for us. We arranged for her to come back to help the following and stay overnight too, so I could check back into the hotel and rest up.

John did some more acupuncture on me, which was nice of him but didn’t seem to be helping my case much. Whatever I had sickness I had was unusually stubborn.

By about 10pm I was absolutely spent. I was practically begging to lie down on the cot and bury myself under the covers. I slept with a surgical mask on my face to try to avoid drying out all the yellow-green muck oozing out of my sinuses. The radios in the medical yurt stay on 24/7 in case someone needs us, and the pointless chatter and crackle of the lines in the middle of the night kept me awake and nearly drove me mad. I couldn’t wait to check back in to the hotel the next day.

Sunday 18 December 2016

No one came to Rosebud Medical this morning until about 11:30, and we all slept until that time. I was grateful for nearly 12 hours of rest. I tidied up my space and made some lunch, which was bland since I still couldn’t taste anything.

Kate arrived to replace me. I showed her around the space and answered her questions. She helped me pack up my car so I could head back to the casino. Jacque sent me with a couple of bags of Epsom salts spiked with essential oils. I was so grateful to get out of the cold for a while…

I arrived at the lodge around 3, but was told that check-in had been pushed back to 4pm. This was understandable; that casino probably hasn’t seen so much business since it opened as it’s had in the past few months. I was so looking forward to my bath, but I’d have to wait a bit longer.

A Native man named Victor approached me in the lobby and asked how I was doing. I must have met him at some point in one of the medical yurts, because he said he recognized me and he looked familiar. We chatted for a while. He asked me if I smoked, and I told him no, but I realized he wanted a cigarette so I offered him some of my loose tobacco that I carried as an offering. As he rolled himself a cigarette, he told me about his life on the reservation and shared with me his thoughts about the happenings at Standing Rock. His face was weathered and he was missing several teeth so that it was hard to understand what he was saying at times, but his words were full of wisdom. He challenged my image of what “wise” looked like, I realized. A lot of the Natives around here look beaten and weathered. Such are the effects their life has had on them. But many of them are wiser and nobler than you would ever imagine.

After a while, Victor asked if he might be able to shower in my room when I checked in. He sensed my hesitation, which was due mainly to the fact that I was feeling so bad and wanted, above all else, to take a hot bath and go to sleep ASAP.

“It’s okay, you can say no,” he told me gently.

“It’s just that I’ve been really sick…” I started to explain.

“It’s okay,” he repeated.

Still, I gave him my number and encouraged him to call me later, after I’d had some rest, and he could come get cleaned up. He never did call me, but I hope he found a place to shower.

Monday 19 December 2016

Felt awful again today. I didn’t go to camp—I mostly just laid in bed, willing my body to recover. I tried showering and steaming, like I’d done at Rosebud, but anything I tried only provided temporary relief.

Below is a post I shared that day. I hadn’t posted anything in a few days, because I had been feeling so bad and didn’t want to share anything negative or cause anyone to worry about me. But on this day I was feeling discouraged and thought perhaps it was okay to ask for help in the form of prayers from my friends.

Adversity and discomfort teach us more than stability ever could.

For example, I used to dread long drives by myself. By the time I got out of the car, I felt half crazy. Now I see it as a wonderful opportunity to practice presence, mantra, and reflection.

I used to shy away from awkward or challenging situations, and try to forget them as soon as they were over, or beat myself up for not acting differently while I was in them. Now I strive to remain fully present in those moments and notice what is triggering me, and I look back on those experiences with interest and gratitude for what they have taught me.

Not long ago I never would have believed you if you told me I'd find myself voluntarily traveling and camping in arctic weather. Now I'm in reverent awe of the quiet beauty of an expanse of snow-swept landscape. I have a newfound respect for the demands of survival and sub-zero climates, and for how myself and those around me have risen to meet those demands.

If you choose to resist something, you will find that life has a way of pushing the issue. Rise up to meet your challenges always, and you will be forever stronger for it.

P.S. I wrote the above message on my way to Standing Rock over a week ago. Tonight I lay shut up in my hotel room at the casino trying to rest and recuperate so I can get back on the ground. I have been sick for nearly a week now...not sure if this is the flu or just the worst sinus infection of my life. The constant headache is the most demoralizing thing about it all--every time I cough I feel like my forehead is splitting. Usually my immune system is really efficient and I can kick just about anything in 24-36hrs if I take care of myself. Not this time. It's really hard not to be able to be in service with my brothers and sisters back at camp right now. Prayer is all I have to offer today, between hot baths and naps.

I guess I wrote the first part of this message days ago so I could look back on it now and remind myself I'll come out of this stronger somehow. I'm still honored to be here and serve in what small ways I've been able to the past few days. I trust I'll round the corner on this thing soon. In the meantime, please send your prayers and thoughts for healing. Thank you.

I had a terrible sinus headache, almost like a migraine, which threatened to keep me up for the second night in a row. By 11pm, I had already been in bed for two or three hours, exhausted from the illness, but unable to sleep. I had refused to use pharmaceuticals up until this point, insisting on supporting my body with herbs and prayers and rest instead. But the headache was too much. I called the front desk, and the woman who answered informed me that the hotel gift shop was closed but I could perhaps find an aspirin in the cigarette vending machine located on the casino floor. I headed downstairs. It was the first time I’d left the hotel room all day. I dragged my feet across the casino floor, aware that I was surrounded by cigarette smoke but grateful that I couldn’t smell it. I scanned the room in search of the cigarette machine, slightly overwhelmed by the flashing lights of the slot machines.

Crossing in front of the bar, I glanced toward one of the tables and saw a familiar face. It was Orka, a young man from Ontario who was on the construction team and sometimes stayed overnight at the Rosebud medical yurt. He smiled and greeted me warmly.

“How are you feeling?” he asked, aware that I’d been sick.

“Like shit,” I replied groggily. “I’ve got a headache that won’t let me sleep and I’m told there might be aspirin down here somewhere.”

A woman standing beside him, maybe in the late 50s or early 60s, chimed in, “I’ve got Tylenol!”

My mind was set on aspirin, because it seemed like the least adulterated pharmaceutical analgesic I could take, so I declined her offer and continued my search for the cigarette machine. But, as it turned out, my only options there were ibuprofen (which I am allergic to) and Tylenol with caffeine. So I went back to the woman and asked if she wouldn’t mind giving me a couple of her Tylenol after all. Orka was still there too. He gave me a hug and said and he hoped I would feel better soon. I thanked them and told them goodnight and trudged back up to my room to lie down.

#nodapl #mniwiconi #waterislife #standingrock

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