The Sioux San Hospital is an Indian Health Service facility in Rapid City, South Dakota. Photo by Kevin Abourezk

Health | Opinion

Tim Giago: A matter of life and death at Indian Health Service hospital

Monday, September 23, 2019

Notes from Indian Country

Sioux San: A matter of life and death

By Tim Giago (Nanwica Kciji – Stands Up For Them)

When the Great Plains Tribal Chairmen’s Health Board began its incursion to take control of the Indian Health Service Hospital in Rapid City, a hospital known as the Sioux San by Rapid City’s long time Lakota residents, it was almost comical the way they went about it, but it is no longer a bit funny; it is now a matter of life and death.

The Sioux San started out as the Rapid City Indian School. It was a boarding school that saw Indian children from around the area shipped to the school for acculturation and assimilation. It was later converted to an Indian tuberculosis sanitarium during the years TB became epidemic in Indian Country.

From a TB sanitarium it gradually transformed into a full-fledged Indian hospital. Many local Native Americans found gainful and prideful employment there over the years. When the takeover got into full-stride many of the Indian employees that had been employed at the Sioux San for many years, some 20 years or more, were asked to sign a document and if they did not, they were terminated. Many of them refused to sign the document and are no longer employed. These employees were the heart and soul of the hospital. Their loss is still a painful and distressing loss to many local Native Americans.

Change comes hard to most of the Lakota elders. They grow deeply accustomed to the repetitive similarities of the day-to-day activities at the hospital and to see those familiar activities abandoned or changed so dramatically upset and shocked many of the elders. But it was not just the elders who became upset over the drastic changes. Many of the younger Lakota who were just beginning to grow accustomed to the familiar settings at the Sioux San, were also very concerned about the swift and unexplained changes. And that was a hard sticking point. The GPTCHB management, led by Jerilyn Church, failed to include input from the local Indian community. They plunged ahead with the takeover even though a lot of deep concern began to develop as the local Indian community began to wonder what was going on.

The main entrance to the Sioux San Hospital, an Indian Health Service facility in Rapid City, South Dakota. Photo by Kevin Abourezk

I offered Ms. Church a space in my newspaper, the most read newspaper in this region, to explain in her own words what it was the GPTCHB was trying to accomplish and why. She thought it was a good idea, but instead of providing an explanation to the Indian community she decided to remain silent thus adding to the deep concerns of the local community.

Most of us regular patients at the hospital began to witness the ensuing chaos almost immediately. Signs went up advertising the new interlopers as the Oyate Health clinic while signs reminding us that this was still the Sioux San remained, adding to the confusion. I.H.S. patients were told they could get their services on the second floor of the San. The first floor was now the Oyate Health Clinic. Two pharmacies were established, one for the I.H.S. patients and one for the Oyate Health patients. Two laboratories were also set up. We were ordered to remove our newspaper, Native Sun News Today, from the first floor because of our unbiased, but critical reporting on the takeover. So many patients complained that the Indian Health Service asked us to place our newspaper vending machine on the second floor.

Our biggest critic was a writer for a newspaper that wasn’t even based in Rapid City, but instead published in Martin. Not so ironically it turns out that the writer’s mother was about to become the big wig at the Oyate Health Clinic and the writer criticizing us would be employed there. Talk about a conflict of interests.

I went to the pharmacy on the second floor to pick up my meds and sitting on a bench outside of the pharmacy was a middle-aged Lakota woman and she was crying. I tried to console her and she said, “My mother has a broken leg and she is in terrible pain. I have been trying for 2 days to get some pain medicine for her and they have bounced me all over the place.”

As I was leaving the hospital a lady, the younger sister of Eddie Little Sky, the now deceased actor, stopped me to complain about the terrible situation at the hospital. She said, “Why didn’t they just leave it like it was.”

It has reached the point where many elders with serious health problems are bearing the brunt of the drastic changes. They can’t find a doctor to visit. New doctors totally unknown to the patients are now in place and the one assigned to me didn’t even read my chart before I visited her. Unheard of. My health conditions are as serious as some of the other elders who are now crying for help. Where do we turn? The rate of diabetes is near epidemic among the Lakota people in our region and one of the most drastic damage to any diabetic comes in the loss of circulation to the feet and limbs and yet the Sioux San does not even have a podiatrist any longer. Dr. Randall, the last one, was sent away to Kansas City. So what in the world are those diabetics with old or newly occurring foot problems supposed to do?

What is happening at the Sioux San is no longer a laughing matter: It is a matter of life and death and we demand that the Indian Health Service take some serious steps to correct this horrific situation. It is in our treaties. It is also a matter of life and death.

Contact Tim Giago at najournalist1@gmail.com