They can call her “Tomato” now.
That’s as good an indication as anything, really.
Last year, members of the Heritage High gymnastics team tried to slap that moniker on their head coach, Rachel Tamayo, only to be rebuffed with sighs and sadness.
“Come on, guys,” Tamayo, 55, would mutter, “I’m too tired for that.”
The gymnasts didn’t take it personally, though. People with 91 percent kidney failure tend to say things like that.
They no longer had the coach who walked a marathon eight years in a row, worked out with them every practice and smiled until her face got stuck that way. That woman was an apparition.
Tamayo’s fatigue levels skyrocketed as her kidneys worsened, and now it was like she were trapped in that first minute following the morning alarm.
It didn’t help that a transplant she had been waiting on for a year and a half fell through two weeks before the scheduled surgery, a setback that sent the former gymnast’s spirits tumbling.
“I’d ask ‘why me?’ a lot,” said Tamayo, who’d had bad kidneys for 30 years but was symptomatic for only three. “You start to feel sorry for yourself, but I had to stop. I kept telling myself that there’s a reason all of this was happening.”
The reason’s name was Eric Tamayo, Rachel’s 29-year-old son. Rachel initially discouraged her children from organ donation, but when the would-be transplant was nixed, Eric pushed through her resistance.
He said it was “the worst feeling in the world” to see someone who used to walk five miles a day lose the desire to even step outside.
So last February he squelched his fear of doctors, began a series of tests and, in three months, got to make the greatest phone call of his life.
“That was the best feeling in the world,” said Eric, who doctors say was a perfect match. “It was one of those things where I’m calling my mom to tell her I can donate and my heart’s just pounding.”
When Eric began the conversation with “the doctors say we need to pick a date,” Rachel wept with joy. About a minute later, however, she panicked at the thought of her child undergoing surgery.
Eric calmed her, though. Said he was going through with it no matter what.
Plus, there was certainly incentive that went beyond his mom’s health. Do you seriously think he’ll ever have to stress about her Christmas gift again?
Doctors operated on the two last June, and the first words out of Eric’s mouth upon awaking were “how’s my mom?”
The answer was better than ever.
Life was back on Rachel’s payroll once she got her new kidney. Her energy returned, her old exercise regimen resumed, and her smile was no longer taking furloughs.
“You don’t realize how bad you felt until you feel this good,” Rachel said. “It makes you look back and think ‘how did I make it before?’ This is how I want to feel forever.”
Heritage gymnast Danielle Moeller said Tamayo’s lethargy last year made it difficult for the team to reach its full potential. But now their workouts feature a coach who runs with them, choreographs “Little Mermaid” routines on the floor with them, and can’t stop complimenting their hair.
The rejuvenation has extended to family life, too, as Rachel has her husband walking 20 miles a week and Eric and his girlfriend sweating at 24 Hour Fitness.
Of course, there still are occasional visits to the doctor. And sometimes, when his mom is present, Eric will ask if there’s any way he can get his kidney back.
But hey, people can joke like that with Tomato these days, remember?
For most of the country, this is a day of anticipation; one in which adults and children alike go to bed overjoyed at what tomorrow might bring.
Welcome to Rachel’s world.
Matt Calkins is a sports writer for The Columbian. He can be contacted at 360-735-4528 or matt.calkins@columbian.com
