A Few Minutes with the Mayor – August 2019

Some readers may remember a column years ago about my falling and then riding in an ambulance to the ER. It struck me as humorous how repeatedly I was asked my birthdate… 11-14-29. However, I annoyed a couple of readers who mistook my humor for criticism of those who were helping me. Not everyone sees humor the same way, and I understand that. Well… here we go again. I’ve had another one of those unforeseen rides in an ambulance, but before I begin my tale, let me emphasize that we have some of the most dedicated professionals in our Fire Department one could hope to find. Ditto to the Mercy Flights crew!

My story begins on a Monday night that started out like any other. Sharon’s son, Jonathan, and my son Scott, joined us for dinner. When Scott left at about 6pm there was no sign of any physical trouble on my part. The scenario changed when a movie we’d watched came to an end around 8:15.

While turning the TV off, I suddenly became aware of some discomfort in my upper chest, bad enough that I mentioned it and the question arose: do we call 911? Raised in the Great Depression where we had no money, my inclination is to ride things out, but an increasing numbness in my left shoulder changed my mind. Time to call 911! Our Fire Department arrived in less time than it takes to poach an egg. Indy 500 drivers have nothing on these guys!

Suddenly our small living room was filled, as I counted six people, all from our Police and Fire Departments and Mercy Flights, and all focused on me. Even if I wanted to, there was no place to hide. No matter, for soon I was on a stretcher, out the door, down the stairs and into the ambulance which took off with a hearty high-ho. Although not quite Mr. Toad’s wild ride, I did make a mental note to call Medford’s Mayor about the rough pavement conditions as we bounced our way to the hospital.

RVMC was prepared and waiting as were the surgeons in the operating room. I remember wondering, “How can these guys be so quickly surgically dressed and waiting?” In place, at the ready, they resembled mannequins, only these mannequins greeted me with a cordial welcome better than the maître d’ at the Polo Lounge. It seems I was to be awake for this procedure.

Upon examination, they declared they were going to insert a stent into a blocked artery. I have no sense of how long they operated… all I remember is seeing this rectangular white translucent box that kept moving a few inches over my chest, up, down, across, back, and up again, clicking with each move. Had I landed on the starship Enterprise?

I felt nothing during the entire procedure. Finally, one of them said they were done, bid me fond farewell, and off I was to a room. It was less than three hours since Sharon called 911, comparably less time than it takes to watch Gone With The Wind.

Footnote: In the waiting room, the surgeon squinted at my wife and asked, “Is your husband really the mayor of Jacksonville? He’s joking around so much I wasn’t certain he was serious.” Then he declared he had never put a stent in a mayor before. Days later, she wished she had responded, “Oh my! Is that what he told you? Last week he was Hercule Poirot.”

Not 48 hours later, I was discharged from the hospital and home. In a week I was back on the job presiding over the City Council. And that’s my story, but before concluding, I want to thank the City staff, members of the City Council, and everyone else who sent me or wished me words of encouragement. I am grateful for your support. It meant a lot.

Finally, I can’t help but remark about the skill and professional coordination between the Jacksonville Fire Dept., Mercy Flights, and the RVMC cardiac unit. Our little town, this beautiful village, is safe in their hands. May it always be so!