Executive Disorder

Strange dinner this week. Dave was speaking at it and had invited me along as his guest.

I met Dave a very long time ago, but didn’t get to know him until 20 years after that when we were reacquainted. These days, I see him maybe half a dozen times a year. He’s retired. But, in his day, he was one of the most prominent orthopedic surgeons in the city, and well known for his work with professional athletes. When he does public speaking, that’s usually what people want to hear about.

But this night, he told a story of an earlier time. And, he told it as only he can. I cannot replicate it here. Dave’s humor has a lot to do with his skillful, wry delivery. You’re never sure if he’s being serious or not.

He was just beginning his career and was working one of the less desirable shifts in a hospital near the university. That night, he was seeing a borderline college athlete who had blown out a knee. Dave had done the surgery and they were arguing about the prognosis. The door to the examination room flew open and in walked a hospital administrator with three men in dark suits. They took Dave outside to confer with him.

Dave returned to the room and told the patient that he had to go out on an emergency call and they would have to reschedule, which didn’t please the adolescent. The suits exchanged looks and said it would be a good idea if the boy came along. He objected, but the men flashed credentials and made it clear that it wasn’t a suggestion.

Dave and the boy were escorted to a couple nondescript sedans parked at the front door and whisked away to a nearby hotel. Today, it’s either decrepit or has been torn down. Then, it was a grand old lady of inns. The cars screeched to a halt at the back door and Dave and the patient were taken to a service elevator where they were met by more serious looking men in near identical suits.

The doors of the elevator opened on an upper floor. Dave and his charge were detained while the hall was checked. Then, they were briskly pulled down the hallway to a room. Passwords were exchanged and the door opened. Dave and the boy were quickly shoved inside and the door immediately closed.

A, mature man stood in the middle of the room. “Where’s your table?” No one answered, much less Dave. He was stunned by the sight of the Vice President of the United States addressing him, clad only in his underwear.

Hubert Humphrey was in town to give a speech and raise money. Near bedtime, something popped out of alignment and he was in serious pain. He was advised that the local university anchored one of the best medical complexes in the country and they could surely provide someone on short notice to do an adjustment. Scrambling to accommodate, the hospital administrator came up with Dave, who happened to be on duty.

Dave’s specialty was surgery. He had seen these serious adjustments done, but had never attempted one. He told our audience they are a lot more complicated than one might think.

He didn’t want to reveal his apprehension to the Vice President and make the hospital look bad. His eyes scanned the room and he decided the bed would have to do, although it was too low and soft. He positioned Humphrey on the bed and grasped a shoulder and a hip. With a sudden lurch, he twisted them in opposite directions, hoping for the telltale crack. Nothing, save for a groan from his new patient.

Dave said he was nervous and sweaty at that point and asked Humphrey to roll over on his other side. He was in obvious pain and loudly expressed his impatience, making Dave even sweatier. Again, he attempted the maneuver, with no result.

Dave decided there was only one thing left to do. He told the Vice President he’d have to straddle him. The agents looked at him sternly and the adolescent made a salacious remark and was immediately ordered to shut up.

Dave mounted the executive, pinning his hips to the bed. He gripped parts of the upper body and gave a sudden and powerful heave. At last, there was the crack. Dave sat back on his haunches, satisfied and relieved. He awaited the feedback from his patient and became concerned when it wasn’t forthcoming.

Concern turned to panic. There was not only no feedback, but no movement. No breathing. Dave felt for a pulse and there was none. Holy crap!

Dave initiated some kind of panicky CPR and agents edged closer to the bed, not sure what to do. Dave said he had visions of newspaper headlines, “Doctor kills Vice President of the United States.” He was really sweating now.

The eyes fluttered open. “Get the hell off me.”

He signaled the agents he was okay and they began to whisk the interlopers out of the room. “Just a minute.” He reached into a bag and produced a small box, which he gave to Dave.

Some four decades later, Dave pulled this box out of his jacket pocket. He opened it and showed the dinner guests. “I never heard from him again, but he gave me these. Cufflinks with the Vice Presidential seal, two of them.” Yeah Dave, like anyone gives one cufflink?

Dave’s audience stared at him with some degree of incredulity. And, I understood my role in this presentation.

I had been Dave’s other patient that night.