The other thing I know to be crucial is cultivating community in times like these. Because of Omicron, I was extremely limited in terms of visitors: For the most part, I saw only my parents, my brother and Jon. But, still, there’s vibrant community to be found within a hospital — it makes the long stay not just bearable but also fun and nourishing. It was bittersweet to leave behind Christina, the nurse who came to my room and played a superfast version of Scrabble with me on her breaks, or Chandra, who was on the cleaning crew and who by the end of my stay would take half an hour to clean the floors so we could share stories.
When I was finally discharged, they all gathered and gave me the most amazing send-off. I was wheeled from my room into a hallway full of people, all cheering and clapping — a kind of celebratory gauntlet for patients who’ve made it through a pretty harrowing ordeal. They had strung a green ribbon across the end of the hall, which they had me cut with some shiny gold scissors and drape around my neck. I’m not one for public displays of emotion, but I couldn’t help but weep openly. I felt so supported, so comforted, so loved.
T.P.P.: I was sad to read that your beloved dog, Oscar, died while you were in the hospital. What should we know about him?
S.J.: Oh, Oscar. He was my badly behaved, rescue-mutt ride-or-die for 10 years. I got him when I was recovering from my first bone marrow transplant, and, in a way, we grew up together.
Oscar got me through so much — through heartbreak and through the unexpectedly difficult period after I finished treatment. During my recovery, I embarked on a 15,000-mile solo road trip with him as my co-pilot, and he was truly one of a kind. He was incorrigible. When I adopted him, I was told he’d already been returned to the animal shelter twice.
In a strange twist of fate, around the time I relapsed, Oscar was diagnosed with a rare, aggressive form of cancer, and there was no treatment for it. One of my friends, the incredible author Elizabeth Gilbert, took over his care when I became sick and wrote a really beautiful tribute to him in my Isolation Journals newsletter.Oscar died while I was in the bone marrow transplant unit. As gutting as the timing was, he was my companion and protector until the end.
T.P.P.: Can you tell me more about why you started The Isolation Journals two years ago?
S.J.: When Covid hit, I was quarantining at my parents’ house in upstate New York with Jon, my brother Adam and my dear friend Carmen, and I was struck by the similarities of what the world was going through and my own experience of medical isolation. On top of a new, hyper awareness of germs, mask-wearing and hand-sanitizing, there was the fact that people were not able to go out or see friends or go to work, and there was so much fear and uncertainty. As I was watching all this unfold, I thought about what had gotten me through my own long period of isolation. For me, that was journaling and a 100-day project, in which my family and friends and I all did one creative act a day.
I decided to reprise both, and I invited some of the most inspiring authors, musicians, community leaders and unsung heroes I know to write a short essay and a journaling prompt. On April 1, 2020, I began sending it out as a free newsletter.Within a month, 100,000 people had joined us from all over the world. Our youngest participant that we know of is 6, our oldest 95.
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