Let me first start by saying everyone is ok. My dad was dealing with some balance issues after a high fever. All tests came back negative.
But the emergency room in itself is it's own weird little universe. During the time you are there, nowhere else seems to exist. If you are lucky and get to spend more than a few hours there, you meet some interesting characters.
My first encounter came about simply because of what I was wearing. Because it had been a leisurely Saturday, I was sporting my favorite Beatles t-shirt. The urgency of the phone call about my dad did not lend time for a costume change, not that one was even warranted. We were only headed to the emergency room. I am not sure what it is about this particular shirt but I have been approached by a stranger on various occasions while wearing it.
Last summer, I was stopped near Market Square and asked, "You a Beatles fan?" After I answered in the affirmative I was invited to check out a Beatles tribute band who had an upcoming show. While at the ER, walking to my dad's pod I was stopped by a nurse, I think he was a nurse, and had to prove my allegiance by answering a trivia question. An easy one by my standards. Which former Beatle had the first number one post break-up and the most recent number one? I'll give you a hint...he was the quiet one.
Once I excused myself from that encounter it was on to Dr. Doogie (reference to Neil Patrick Harris' breakout show from the 80's.) I had noticed this guy in scrubs walking past our pod a number of times. (His striped socks and Chuck Taylor's stood out to me as a former wearer of Chucks until my arches gave out. In fact, my husband and I both were wearing Converse low tops on the day we met twenty-two years ago.) I only had a view of from the knee down, due to the curtain shadowing our door, but a mental note was made. Little did I know this guy was my dad's doctor.
Since my dad was only allowed two visitors at a time, I missed the first appearance of the doc. My mom did warn me though... he was cute. (In the medical profession, at least around here, most of the people you deal with are not fresh faced and skipping around in sneakers.) When this gentleman stopped in the second time I was more caught up by the fact this Converse wearing, college boy looking guy was my dad's doctor.
His bedside manner was great. Very personal, funny, heck he even tossed in some age digs that seemed to go over like butter. Here are some of the gems from his interaction with my dad: "You are not my youngest patient" and "Something's gonna get you sometime." Who says this stuff? I was thinking to myself, "Doogie, good thing you are cute. "
He even pointed out my dad is in his eighth decade, which threw us all for a loop because my dad only turned 72 a few months ago. But after doing grade school math in my head, ten years in a decade, 0 to 10 years is one decade, I realized Doogie was right. An hour later, when I explained the math to my parents, they realized he was right too. Not cool man. I wonder if he would have tried this shtick with a woman?
So despite the reality check comedy show, Doogie was able to get my dad a "private" room pretty quick. On his way out we exchanged some pleasantries and he shared that he was about to become a dad and hoped he would be a good one. (I'm sure those age jokes will be a hit on the toddler circuit.) We assured him he would be fine and then he was gone. My mom then turned to me and asked, "Didn't you think he was cute?"
Frankly, he wasn't my type and the fact that he is about to have a kid and my oldest is about to turn 17, kind of killed any possible attraction. Then I did my own mental math and I realized I am in my fifth decade. I did the Charlie Brown walk down the hall as we were getting ready to move my dad into his room for the night.
In the distance, I noticed a pair of Chuck Taylor's zipping down a side hallway. I wanted to warn Dr. Doogie that he would eventually need more arch support with being on his feet all day. But then I realized he was probably less than a decade away from figuring that out himself.
From that moment on, each cushioned step I took in my Swedish comfort sole sneakers felt a little softer - a little wiser. Step gently Doogie and keep an eye out for Dr. Scholl.
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