Excuse Me, I'm Dying - Can You Point Me Where I Need to Go?

December 20, 2018

Allina Health Clinics

PO Box 43

Minneapolis, MN 55440-0043

Dear Whoever Ends Up With This Letter,

My name is Tauni Howes. I am forty years old, educated, employed as a regional operations manager (10 years), and enjoy overall good health.

I’ve had to visit Abbott Northwestern Hospital four times in the past four months for tests and an operation. Each time I visited your hospital, I got hopelessly lost despite parking and going where I was directed.

But my experience yesterday was so ridiculous and so comical, I thought you needed to know about it before someone dies in your ant maze of hallways and you have a real problem on your hands. Because had my health not been so good, this could have been a true disaster. (Google “Second Body Found In San Francisco Hospital In One Week.” I’ll wait.)

Anyway, my problem started when I followed the signs for “Piper Breast Center Parking & Valet,” but couldn’t find it. I was directed to the correct parking lot, where I was assured I could park.

I was then approached by an attendant, who assured me I could not. He directed me to another parking lot across the street when I explained I needed to get to Piper Breast Center.

I parked in the lot as directed. Upon getting out of my car, I saw no signs for a stairwell, elevator, nothing. I began to walk aimlessly in your garage, certain I would find a door, which I did. I descended the stairwell until I got to the bottom and realized I was locked in. Holy shit, right? I frantically started pulling on the door, which had no handle, but luckily there was a hole where someone ripped the doorknob off. So I pulled frantically at the door, but it’s still latched at the very bottom latch, so I just end up violently wobbling it back and forth in an effort to get out.  Outsmarted by the door, I walked back upstairs to level E, where thankfully the door had a doorknob. (None of the other doors opened on the other floors, which was super unsettling.)

So, now I’m back at Square One, sweating and frustrated. I began to walk aimlessly again, walking up the ramp of the parking garage, looking for a sign/door/stairwell that wouldn’t  trap me. I finally find a door to the Mother & Baby Center. As I make a beeline for it, I passed an elderly gentleman. We made  eye contact and I said, “I’ve been lost in this parking garage since Sunday.” He threw his head back in laughter, in a way that people do when they can relate to what you’re saying. I knew by that time that this parking garage was a joke, so I knew he would get mine.

I walk inside the M&BC and begin to look for signs to Piper Breast Center, which I assumed there would be,  since I was directed to that particular parking garage.

Nope. 

I look at a map. Huh. Piper Breast Center is not even on the same side of the street as the M&BC. Well, shit, I better get moving because my check-in time is at 11:45 and I parked my car at 11:35. Go go go. 

So I started walking quickly in the general direction of Piper, figuring I may have to ask for directions along the way if I don’t start to see “Piper Breast Center This Way” signs. Which of course I don’t.
I stop an Allina employee and ask for directions. She looks around, a little confused, but gives me directions, which eventually send me to a door that says “Employees Only.” Great. I ask another Allina employee where Piper Breast Center is. He doesn’t know.

Okay. It’s 11:50 and I’m late for check-in. No panicking, I tell myself. I can figure this out. Look at a map. Get my bearings.  Start walking.

I hope I’m getting closer when I stop at an information desk and ask the employee where Piper Breast Center is. “Uuuummmmmm………” is the first answer, which is not encouraging. She sends me on my way with new directions, which end up with me walking out a door to your landscaping rocks, looking at a chainlink fence in front of another parking garage.

Suddenly, I realize the door I just came out of is closing behind me and is probably going to lock, so I SPRING for the door and catch it right before it closes. Phew!! I literally thought I was going to be trapped outside and going to have to scale a fence. Does this seem comical to you yet?

Okay, so I’m back inside, it’s 11:59 and I’m starting to freak out. I walk and walk and get to a dead end within the hospital and I ask a nearby woman if she can point me to Piper Breast Center. She says no. I burst into tears, certain I’m going to miss my appointment and this clot in my leg is going to dislodge and kill me and I’m going to die right here on your ugly tile.

She’s very, very kind and explains she’s been hired as a photographer for a patient but she will find me help. I follow her into an office, where three Allina employees listen to my trouble. I stand there with tears streaming down my face as I listen to the three Allina employees bicker about how to get to the Piper Breast Center. As they’re trying to figure it out, I turn to the photographer and say, “Can you believe this? Not a single person can get me to Piper.” Her eyes are wide and she slowly shakes her head as she sees for herself why I'm a basket case.

After more discussion, one of the employees starts to lead me down the hall. She stops, turns to her two co-workers and says, “Wait, where?”

Oh my god. I am going to die here among all this life-sustaining equipment. 

Another says, “It’s okay, I’ll just take her.” And she did. Sort of. She got me to a set of doors and gave me more directions for once I got through those doors. You can imagine by this time, I had zero confidence in any of your employees’ directions, but behold! I walked up to the registration counter, crying and sweating, at 12:10, a full 35 minutes after I parked my car.

The funny thing is, since this was my fourth trip to Abbott in four months, I went there thinking, “Okay, I am NOT going to get lost for 20 minutes like the last few times. Pay attention, note where you park, watch the signs, follow directions…..” I didn’t think there was a way I could get lost a fourth time. But as it turns out, when you have an ant maze with no signs and really friendly but totally unhelpful employees, people are kind of screwed.

In the 12 hours since I experienced this, I have relayed this story several times to a chorus of, “Oh, I know, Abbott is the WORST,” “I ALWAYS get lost there, thank god you weren’t having a heart attack!” and the like.

While educated and articulate, I will admit I don’t have a great sense of direction. But since not having a great sense of direction is suuuuuuuuuuuuuper common among people, I’m curious why you’ve designed your hospital in a way that it’s suuuuuuuuuuuuuuper rare?

A typical response to a complaint like this is to blame the one who came forth with the complaint. “Well she just had a bad day,” “This surely doesn’t happen often,” “Why didn’t she ask for directions sooner?” and the like, all ways to try to deflect and deny and blame me. Me, who showed up 10 minutes prior to my check-in time. Me, who travels extensively for work and has never gotten lost or turned-around in an airport once (they have a LOT of signs, you see). 

I’m asking you here to not respond this way. This was not isolated – My husband, Dr. Will Howes, and I showed up at your same facility two months ago for my surgery. We got there early but got lost. By the time we found the registration desk, we were late and I was even more stressed out about the urgency of being lost than I was about the surgery. You have an abysmal reputation for navigability within your campus among the people I've talked to and for a hospital, that is a serious f***ing problem. (Again: if you haven’t already, Google “Second Body Found In San Francisco Hospital In One Week”)

This situation would have been obnoxious in most scenarios. But in a hospital? This situation is DANGEROUS and needs to be fixed right now. 

The punchline to this whole day was when I was charged $6 to park. It was the insulting icing on the cake. I left your hospital feeling like nobody cared and “just give us money and go away” is the general attitude. Can’t wait for my real bill!

In all sincerity, though, if you are reading this sentence, thank you for taking the time to read this letter. I felt this needed to be told, but that won't do a thing unless it's heard.

Tauni Howes

*Takes Burden Off Shoulders* "Here, This Belongs To You," She Said.

I have a story to tell. It's a story we've heard before. Different day, different details, but one we've all heard. My story isn't remarkable. It should be, but it's not. No, what's remarkable about my story is that I truly, honestly didn't realize it was worth telling. It didn't even occur to me.

I was in college and I had just a treasure trove of wonderful friends that I adored. I look back on those years as being overly dramatic and lots of fun. I knew exactly zero people when I arrived at my college (and that town) so I made all my friendships from the ground up, instead of having a high school history to lean on.

In those days, everyone had a roommate so when you made a new friend, you likely became friends (or at least acquaintances) with your friend's roommates. One of my friends had a roommate he'd known for a long time. I'm going to call him Mike.

Because that's his fucking name.

I liked Mike right away. He was funny, kind of shy, but also a smart ass. He was handy so he came over to my place to help me put together my futon, which was my only furniture at the time other than my tv placed on an upside-down Rubbermade tub and my twin mattress on the floor. We listened to music as he tinkered with the futon and we had a good getting-to-know-you conversation. What a nice guy.

Until later when he tried to force himself on me.

Twice.

Now, I feel I can make a prediction here and say he would insist that he never tried to force himself on me twice. I'll let you be the judge.

I was in the back seat of a car, alone. I don't remember what I was doing, but I must have been  looking for something in my purse or the like. Suddenly, Mike jumped in the other side of the back seat and started rapidly talking about how he was sure he could make me orgasm if I just gave him a chance he was sure he could do it and it wouldn't take long and I'll enjoy it just let him do it just let him do it sshh sshh sshh no no don't freak out it will be fine just let him do it.

I did not let him do it. I jumped out my side of the car and got out of there.

I don't remember if I told anyone about this at the time.

The second incident came at a Halloween party I was throwing at my apartment. The party was at its tail end and there were a few stragglers in the kitchen. I was on the opposite side of the apartment when Mike approached me. He backed me up against the door in my foyer, putting his forearm across my collarbone, and simultaneously trying to get his hand up my dress, again saying how he was sure he could make me orgasm if I just gave him a chance he was sure he could do it and it wouldn't take long and I'll enjoy it just let him do it just let him do it sshh sshh sshh no no don't freak out it will be fine just let him do it.         

I was saying NO. NO. NO. when another friend came around the corner and Mike jumped back like my pussy had caught fire.

Now, this incident scared me, but I was also furious. I told many people about this, many times. I asked their opinion what they would do. I told his roommate, whom I considered a great friend. I assumed his roommate would be incensed. He wasn't. I assumed my friends would shun Mike and support me. They didn't. I assumed people wouldn't totally ignore this situation.

They did.

My friends still included Mike in all their invitations, they still dated him (seriously), and called him their friend. When I started dating one of Mike's friends and told him what happened, he defended Mike. So I quickly realized this was on ME. If I wanted to keep my "friends," the burden was going to be on me to keep the peace and smooth this situation out and figure out how I was going to handle keeping this motherfucker in my life.

I was on my own.

Some years later, Mike rode a charity bike race in honor of one of my closest girlfriends. I knew this because our mutual friends had forwarded his email, asking for donations.

Here's where it gets really fucked up.

I donated to his ride. I was super broke at the time so I opted not to show my donation amount because it was so embarrassing, but I remember making the decision to not make my donation anonymous and to show my name.

And I remember why I did this. When I looked back on everything that happened, I felt incredible embarrassment, the kind that makes your eyelids fly open at 2:00am whenever it pops in your head. If my friends, the most important people in my life other than my family, thought that what had happened wasn't worth acknowledging, than why was I freaking out about it? Nothing really happened, right? I wasn't bruised, bleeding, and it had stopped before Mike could really get anywhere.

When I donated to his bike ride, I put my name on the donation roster because I wanted Mike and my friends to know that I had gotten over it and moved on and we're all friends now.

Oh my God. How seriously fucked up is that.

It gets worse.

This happened in......1999? 2000? Well, it's 2018 now and we've been talking about sexual harassment and sexual predators for a while now. Oprah brought down the house on last night's Golden Globes with her amazing "Time's up" speech. Women have been tweeting "Me too" stories for months. It has been on my mind as it's been on yours.

And yet, through all of this, I didn't consider this a Me Too story because Mike, my friends, the world, and I had so thoroughly convinced myself that this incident meant nothing. These attacks were so buried, I hadn't even told my husband or my best friend about them because I assumed they wouldn't support me. Why would I think otherwise?

I am so thankful for this movement or else I may have gone to my grave thinking that I am the one who should be embarrassed. This jolt of reality shook me to the core and gave me a healthy dose of humility because I've always thought of myself as strong. I thought my years of being bullied had given me a great sense of when I was being taken advantage of. I was literally slack-jawed when I realized that I had so thoroughly buried these attacks that I didn't even consider them attacks.

For a long time I've been telling the world and myself that I'm embarrassed about this and I'm sorry that I involved other people in my drama.

I'd like to change that statement:

I am not embarrassed or ashamed about what happened. I thoroughly blame Mike for this and Mike alone. I do not blame my tight black dress at my Halloween party anymore. I don't blame myself for not telling the world about the first incident. I don't blame the alcohol, the "times," or the party atmosphere. I'm giving my friends some slack because like me, they were young and didn't know how to handle the situation. However, I feel like I can now be angry at them for not supporting me and continuing to put me in harm's way by keeping Mike in our circle without ever discussing it with me.

I recently did something I've never done: I looked up Mike on Facebook. I wanted to see some glimmer of evidence that he'd matured or changed so I wouldn't worry as much about other women who cross his path. His profile picture was him, hands on hips, shirtless, with aviator glasses and a trucker cap. *sigh*

So he's not in jail as I fantasized. He's not declaring his support for the women's movement now that he's taken a good look at himself and his past and apologized to anyone he's hurt. He has not apologized to me for what he did and likely never will. And that's okay. I don't need his apology to live an awesome life.

And now he lives in my town (which I didn't realize until I looked him up on Facebook, fuuuck) and I will also have to live with that. But now I've found my support. My husband and my bestie have vowed to punch him in the neck should they ever encounter him. I realize they would never actually do this, but goddamn does it feel good to hear them say that they would. I hear the anger in their voices when they talk to me about this. I see that they are hurt, listening to my pain. What a gift it is to have them in my life. Their support is more important than food on many days.

I'm sick of carrying around this burden. It's been almost 20 years that I've lugged this around and become complicit in protecting someone I consider dangerous. So to Mike and everyone like him:

Time's up. You fucker.