In October of 2014, having recently moved to Alaska, I experienced one of the most memorable medical events of my life. I shared my story at Arctic Entries in March of 2018. Listen to the recording or read the transcript below.

By the way, my sister Jeanine kindly spent and hour of her free time transcribing this story, so you have her to thank if you prefer written word!

Helicopter Insurance

By Charlotte Foley

My family wasn’t exactly thrilled about my plan to move to Anchorage in September of 2014. In fact, my cousin specifically told my parents that they could not let me move to Alaska, and if they did, they’d have to buy me helicopter insurance, because I’d have to be medevaced out of the state at some point. Now, I thought that was a bit harsh, but I could understand where they were coming from because at that point in time I’d had Crohn’s disease for about seven years, and four major abdominal surgeries in that seven years. But I was determined to go anyway, and after finding a job, finding a roommate on Craigslist, and getting on the plane, I made it to Alaska. 

I stepped off the plane without ever having been in the state, and without knowing a single person. And being the socially reserved person that I am, I knew I had to come up with a plan to make some friends. So I joined a hiking Meetup group, and went on a couple of hikes throughout the month of September. And then in the first weekend in October, I decided to branch out a little bit further, and go on a hike out of the Anchorage area, to Tiehacker Mountain just out of Seward. So I joined the Meetup group at Carrs on Huffman, and we planned our group to ride down to the trailhead with. And I ended up in a car full of pretty experienced hikers, and I was really excited to learn from them and learn about hikes in the area. And everything was going really well, until we reached Turnagain Pass; and at the point in time my stomach really started to hurt. A lot. And I thought okay maybe I’m just nervous, I’ve never met these people before, I haven’t gone on hikes with them, and I don’t really know the area that well, I’m sure it will be fine once I get out on the trail and get going. So we make it to the parking area and my stomach continues to hurt, and I’m like okay I’m going to go check out the situation. 

And this is where I should explain, that one of my surgeries for my Crohn’s Disease was to create an ostomy, and for anyone who doesn’t know, an ostomy is where they take your intestine through your abdominal wall, and there’s a small piece that sticks out called the stoma, and then I wear an ostomy bag over that. That’s what I poop into, every day. And so, I went into the woods while everyone else was going to the bathroom, and getting their gear together to get out on the trail, and I went to check out my ostomy. So I open the bag and go to empty it, and blood just comes pouring out. And I’m like oooh, well, that’s not good, but maybe it’s just a Crohn’s flare, that happens. I’m sure it will be fine, I’ll go see a doctor this week and get it checked out. And so, I close up the bag, head back to the parking lot to meet up [with] the group. 

And the hike’s going pretty well, I’m a little concentrated on the pain, but I’m like okay, it still might be nerves and everything, so I’m having fun getting to know everybody and chatting about the hike ahead. And we get about a mile out on the trail and the pain just becomes unbearable, and I kind of drop to the back of the pack, and wasn’t talking to anybody anymore and was just really thinking like, okay, I have to come up with a new plan, I can’t go up that mountain. But I also don’t want to ruin anybody else’s hike, because I don’t even know these people, and I don’t want them to feel bad for me or anything. So I pull two of my carpool mates aside and I’m like, “hey, I have Crohn’s disease, I think I’m having a flare, but it’s gonna be fine, it’s not really a big deal, so I just need to go get it checked out.” And they’re like “okay, um, what do you want us to do?” And I’m like, “oh it’s fine, I’ll, I’ll just head back and have my roommate come get me.” And they’re like, “no, I think we should drive you somewhere.” And I’m like “no, no, it’s okay.” And so they’re like “well okay, why don’t you get on the phone with your roomate and see what she says.” So, I get on the phone and try to call her, but service isn’t that great out on the trail; so I text her and she texts me back, and she goes, “okay, I can come get you in probably two hours and thirty minutes.” And I’m like “perfect, I’ll just go wait at the car for two hours, it’s fine… she’ll be there really quickly.” And so, they look at me and they’re like, “I don’t know that that’s a good plan, to be in the middle of nowhere, while you’re having a medical issue, in a town that you don’t even know.” And I’m like “yeah, I can see your point.” And so one of them was like “how about this, I’ll give you my car keys and you can go to the hospital in Seward and get checked out, and after the hike, I’ll come get my car and we’ll go back to Anchorage.” And I’m like, “alright, that sounds like a better plan, I like that idea.” So, I head off in the opposite direction of them, and as I get out of sight, I start running, cause at this point I really have to get out of the woods. I know something’s not right and I have to get to that hospital. So I get to the truck, which is the largest vehicle I’ve ever driven, I punch in the directions to Seward, where I’ve never been, I drive down the road and I make it to the hospital.

And the parking lot’s pretty empty, and I’ve never been there before, so I kind of have to wander around the building to find the entrance, and make it into the waiting room, and I say “I have Crohn’s, and I have an ostomy, and there’s a lot of blood, and I need to be seen immediately.” And, because it’s Seward on a Sunday, I’m the only person in the waiting room, so they take me back immediately. And the doctor comes in and she’s like “okay, why don’t you take off your ostomy bag and we’ll see what’s going on.” I’m like okay, so I peel off the ostomy bag and there’s just this giant black blob of intestine hanging out on the outside of my abdomen. 

(The top photo is the only photo I took that day to send to my surgeon)

And I look at her, and she looks at me, and I can tell she has no idea what she’s looking at. And I’m starting to panic a little bit. And so I’m like, “let me call my surgeon in Boston, he’ll know what to do.” And she’s like, “okay that’s a good idea.” And so I get on the phone with him, and, he, I try to call him, but he doesn’t answer cause it’s late on the east coast and so I text him a picture of this giant black blob, and he calls back immediately and wants to talk to the doctor in Seward. So she chats with him for a little bit, and she hangs up, and she’s like “okay, we have to get some sugar.” And I’m like “sugar?” And she’s like “yeah, sugar reduces swelling.” And I’m like “okay, I’ve never heard of that technique before, but sure, that’s fine.” And so she goes into the waiting room, and grabs sugar packets off of the coffee cart, and we just start dumping it all over my stoma and my abdomen. And she’s like “okay, let’s see what happens.” And so we wait. And nothing happens. And I’m like “let’s come up with a better plan, I think I’m gonna call my surgeon again.” And so she’s like “okay.” So I get back on the phone, call my surgeon, and that this point in time he’s already talked to doctors in Anchorage and the surgeons in Anchorage, and they’ve come up a plan to medevac me from Seward, to Anchorage. So they call for a helicopter, but they helicopter can’t make it because weather is too bad in Turnagain Pass. So they call for an airplane from Fairbanks. So I wait in the room for the airplane to come, and while I’m waiting, I hear one of the carpool guys, who I had borrowed his truck, come into the waiting room, and asking how I’m doing. And of course they can’t tell him anything about me, because I don’t even know him. And so he takes his keys and takes his truck with all of my stuff in it, and drives back to Anchorage, I’m assuming. 

And so finally the airplane comes, and they fly me up to Anchorage. We take the ambulance over to Providence, and there’s my roommate, of the past three weeks, looking at me like she has no idea what she got herself into by selecting me as her Craigslist roommate. And so as I’m being wheeled back to the operating room, after the surgeon has explained that my intestine was dead, and that they needed to remove that dead piece immediately so that it wouldn’t continue to die. And I’m like “yeah, I kind of knew that it seemed dead, it’s just been hanging out here all day.” And I’d already had four surgeries in the past seven years, and I kind of knew what to expect, and so as they’re wheeling me back for surgery, which turned out well, as I’m here today, I couldn’t stop thinking about my family, the hikers that I had left out on the trail that had no idea what happened to me, the fact that I probably didn’t need the helicopter insurance, but I could have used some airplane insurance, and that I couldn’t wait to get back out on the trail again. Thanks.