Even the Rats are Smarter at Vanderbilt

Daddy has become a gym rat. That’s right, my senior citizen dad with the sweet tooth and diminishing turkey belly has become a gym rat, and he’s actually started running. Momma emailed me yesterday morning and wrote, “Your dad has been going to the senior citizen center to work out with Mr. West. He sets up the machines for Mr. West.” I emailed back and asked, “Who in the world is Mr. West?” Daddy is a social creature, so Mr. West could be anyone from the dogcatcher to the guy who makes his sandwiches at Subway. As it turns out, Mr. West is an 80 year-old-man from Woodbury that Daddy met during their rehabilitation.

Five months ago, I got a call in the middle of the night from Momma. Calls at 3:00 a.m. are never good news. She had taken Daddy to the emergency room with chest pains. They went to the ER at the Stones River Hospital in Woodbury. She left Daddy in the car and went to the ER door; it was locked (I could digress here and ask the question, “What the hell kind of ER locks their door??” but I won’t).

She rang the buzzer, but no one answered so off she goes to the main entrance. She does not find a single nurse, orderly, doctor, or mouse in the hospital, so she goes back to the car. Daddy is gone. Momma, a good Christian woman, thought, “My dear Lord has come back, and he has taken everyone but me.” As it turns out, the ER staff had answered the buzzer during Momma’s labyrinthine quest through the hospital looking for human life and had taken Daddy back to poke and prod him.

A nurse came to tell Momma, calmly filling out paperwork in the waiting area at this point, that Daddy had had a cardiopulmonary arrest, and the infant doctor, Dr. Cutie Pie, had to use a defibrillator to bring him back. When I arrived, Dr. Cutie Pie was a shaking mess. He couldn’t even figure out how to call Vanderbilt – thank goodness for his seasoned nurses! But, Dr. Cutie Pie, whom Momma keeps referring to as some woman’s (whom I’ve never met) grandson, had stabilized and saved Daddy’s life. Tony & I arrived before Daddy was whisked away. He was complaining that they’d ripped off his Auburntown Elementary School sweatshirt (where his granddaughters attend school). Now, that’s school spirit.

People always say that Momma and I look alike, but in fact, I am my father’s daughter, although, our appearance stops short after the sea blue eyes that we share. Daddy and I are both adventurous, fiercely competitive, cheeky, and social with addictive natures. But, people that know us well will tell you that just under the surface, found just below the cheekiness, we are extraordinarily kind and tenderhearted. My mother and brother were calm and cool, so strikingly different from Daddy and me. I began crying in the ER and didn’t stop for 24 hours.

Daddy was Lifeflighted to Vanderbilt; he had a 100% blockage. Momma & Donald drove to Nashville together, and Tony & I took my car. Tony drove, as I have no sense of direction. Driving in silence in the early morning hours, the song, “I Still Miss Someone” kept playing in my head. It is a song about a lost love, but the chorus is, “Oh, I’ll never get over those blue eyes . . .”

Daddy is doing remarkably well. He has changed his diet, he is exercising, and he has stopped smoking (cold turkey). And I can’t say enough about the staff at Vanderbilt. An intern named Matthew stopped by to talk with Daddy often. He was a nerdy, kind, socially awkward, young man from OK with a gynormous nose. Matthew would casually pick his substantial sniffer when talking with us. He will make a fine doctor someday, but I really should have told him that the whole nose-picking thing makes most folks feel a little uncomfortable (as I am cheeky, I tended to find it amusing/ridiculous rather than gross).

Our old family friends, Linda & Micheal, stopped by to visit during Daddy’s stay in the hospital. They found Momma & me eating Chinese food in the deserted cafeteria. We were sitting next to a window with a view of the courtyard. I heard Linda gasp and say, “I just saw a HUGE rat run by.” Even the rats are smarter at Vandy . . . of course they’d hang-out right outside the cafeteria. All the very best rats do.