Roseville Columnist Finds At Mayo, Medicine is Art

Whether you live in a Roseville bungalow or a Riyadh palace, chances are that someday you'll visit the Mayo Clinic in Rochester.

I've been there numerous times. pushing wheelchairs for my late husband, and more recently, for my cousin, who both benefited from Mayo doctoring.

A couple of years ago, I offered my tingling toes to Mayo, thinking they might be doing a research study on neuropathy. When I arrived at my appointment in the neurology department, the doctor asked the pivotal question: "Have you ever had a work-up?"

No, I replied, and that led to three days of testing, which is about average for a clinic first-timer.

The most memorable moment was the sweat test, for which my entire body was covered with a yellow powder that made me look like a giant Cheeto. After 20 minutes in sauna-like tempertures, my perspiration turned that yellow powder to purple. I looked like Barney!

Those three days of poking and blood-letting and heart-monitoring gave the following results, my doc said: I was in fine health, my tingly toes weren't going to fall off -- and Mayo had no plans to do a neuropathy study.

So now my visits to Mayo are on the handle-end of a wheelchair, and I actually look forward to going there because the staff and volunteers are friendly and courteous, some waiting rooms (I do a lot of waiting!) have footstools and free internet, and then there's the art...

Long ago, the medical doctors Mayo decided that restoring the mind and spirit is analagous to healing the body, and they began adding art to new buildings on the clinic campus. Their collection found a new home in the then-modern Mayo Building when it opened in 1955, and reached a new epitome in the glass-rich Gonda Building which is now 10 years old.

Everywhere one looks, there are sculptures, paintings, tapestries, ceramics -- even gardens to lift spirits in that mecca of medicine. The Gonda atrium is also filled with noontime music when local singers and piano players perform or invite a sing-a-long.

When you visit Mayo, you might want to look for some of my favorite artistic experiences.

Everyone who goes through the Mayo mill is sent to the subway level of the Hilton building because that's where blood is drawn.

Just before reaching the sign-in desk, you'll see three glass cases on the wall holding Chinese ceramics from the the 1600s to the 1800s, though one statuette is said to be a thousand years old.

Bowls, platters, tea ware and images of ancient Chinese gods were donated, as is much of Mayo's art. The porcelain benefactors were Leo and Doris Hodroff, and they did it to honor Dr. Heidi Connolly. I don't know the story, but in my imagination, that doctor cured one or the other Hodroff, and they gave in gratitude.

Glass walls of the Gonda building inspired the extensive use of decorative glass in the interior, nothing more stunning than the 13 chandeliers designed by famed artist Dale Chihuly. Just look up when entering the building and you'll see them in glistening shades of blues, greens and yellow, stretching for the entire lobby atrium.

Even an elevator ride can be an artistic experience. The elevator lobbies of every Gonda floor have large built-in areas displaying ethnographic art saluting Mayo's work with patients from around the world.

My personal favorites are a Scandinavian painted cabinet, a woven rug likely from South America and chunky native jewely. I often notice patients and their companions taking photos of the three pieces, and it's worth stopping on every floor to see that particular Mayo museum. That will make you feel better, whether you're sick or not.

Stop at the information desk on Gonda' main floor to get information about daily walking tours led by guides knowlegable about the art collection, who will tell you a lot more than I can fit in this column.