From Team USA to Team USC for Gold Medalist

In technical terms, she was extending the flexors of her forearm while exerting pressure on the volar tip of her index finger. But doctor jargon doesn’t do the scene justice.

This one requires plain old fan-speak: She was signing autographs. And how.

An Olympic gold medal dangling around her crisp white coat, softball champ Dr. Dot Richardson returned to her job as an orthopedic surgeon-in-training at County-USC Medical Center on Thursday, and was promptly mobbed by awe-struck doctors, nurses, technicians and patients, not to mention a gaggle of reporters.

She tried, actually, to squeeze in some real doctoring, putting one patient through finger flexibility drills and examining how well an accident victim’s surgery scars had healed. But between the camera flashes, the applause, and her determination to let everyone try on her gold medal, she had little time to focus on patients.

“Oh my gosh, I wouldn’t say I was a celebrity,” she said when three camera crews trailed her into an examining room. For once, no one listened to her. And no wonder. She might not call herself a celebrity, but Richardson surely knows how to act like one. She wrapped children in hugs, mugged for the cameras--even knew which type of pen would write most smoothly when she was asked to autograph a baseball.

Floating on a grand Olympic high, she said: “I don’t think I’ll ever be tired again.”

Mere mortals around her could only sigh.

“I’m a new mom and I thought that was hard enough,” said Dr. Enass Eskandar-Rickards, who returned to work on the orthopedics ward 10 days after the birth of her son Ryan. “I don’t know where she gets the energy.”

Indeed, Richardson’s schedule for the last 48 hours would have pooped out the Energizer Bunny.

She belted the winning home run in the United States’ gold medal game against China on Tuesday. She flew home from Atlanta on Wednesday, gave interviews until midnight, returned to County-USC at 7 a.m. on Thursday and gave an inspirational speech at a morning pep rally.

And she was back at work by 11 a.m., reading charts in the hand surgery unit.

As she made her rounds, the public address system boomed out numbers--to call patients to their appointments, not batters to the plate. The public cheered--but the applause came from poor children in casts and old men in wheelchairs, not from spectators who had paid $200 a ticket to watch Olympic softball.

The contrasts were obvious. But Richardson insisted she felt no culture shock.

She was just as proud, she said, to represent Team USC as Team USA.

Maybe even prouder. For her first goal always has been to become a doctor. The gold medal, she said, was “sweet” and “awesome”--but it’s nothing compared to the thrill she gets when she mends a broken leg or relieves a patient’s pain.

“It sounds so corny, but I just feel that when I put on my scrubs, I’m contributing to humanity,” Richardson said.

Explaining why she chose to perform hand surgery instead of attending the Olympics’ closing ceremonies, she said simply: “My obligation is to the USC Medical Center. I’m needed here.”

For a beleaguered hospital staff struggling through ever-tougher times, Richardson’s megawatt enthusiasm proved a welcome tonic.

“She’s an omen. An outstanding omen,” said Dr. Michael Patzakis, chairman of the hospital’s orthopedics department. “There’s no question that there will be more awareness now about the kind of people we have working here and the kind of care we give here.”

Like most of the staff, Patzakis has lived through a tumultuous year. Los Angeles County, scrambling to reduce its health costs, laid off thousands of workers, closed and privatized walk-in clinics, and threatened at one point to shut down County-USC entirely. A federal bailout stabilized the budget a bit, but no one who survived last year’s breakdown is willing to bet on the future.

“It’s very stressful around here, with everyone wondering if we’re going to have a job here” in the months ahead, said Sondra Maxwell, an instrument technician who has worked at County-USC for 34 years.

Richardson’s triumphant homecoming and her evident enthusiasm for County-USC helped lift spirits throughout the hospital, Maxwell said. “Now we can brush away all our worries and come out and celebrate,” she said at a homecoming party featuring the USC marching band and clusters of gold and maroon balloons.

Richardson, 34, took a year off of work to train for the Olympics. She returned to USC on Thursday as a third-year resident, meaning she must work under supervision for three more years before taking her board certification exam. She will assist with surgeries, handle emergency trauma cases and conduct follow-up exams--sometimes seeing up to 120 patients a day. If she decides to specialize in sports medicine, as she now plans, Richardson could face an additional year of training.

In her typical hard-charging fashion, Richardson has already envisioned the day she will launch her own medical practice. She can even predict exactly how exultant she’ll be.

“When I pass my boards and become a certified orthopedic surgeon,” she said, grinning, “that will be a gold medal feeling.”

For the time being, Richardson said she is content to learn from the older, more experienced doctors. She figures her Olympic experience has positioned her well for a career in medicine. Not only has she learned the power of hard work and determination, she said, but she has also recognized the value of teamwork, whether to demolish the opposition or to tackle a disease.

Plus, all that batting practice improved her hand-eye coordination.

“She’ll come in and she won’t miss a beat,” Patzakis said.

Of course there were, inevitably, a few doubters.

Patient Michael Harrison, who wandered out of his room to watch the hoopla in his hospital robe and slippers, worried that perhaps all that time on the softball diamond had made Richardson’s doctoring skills a bit rusty. “She’s been gone a while, so maybe she forgot some stuff,” Harrison said.

He watched a minute as Richardson shook hands, signed charts and pumped her arm in the air at every huzzah. Then he quickly amended his opinion. “She’s so dedicated to everything she does, she’ll be fine,” he said. “I wish she was my surgeon.”