Bryson City Secrets: Even More Tales of a Small-Town Doctor in the Smoky Mountains (31 page)

“Walt, Laura and I owe you an awful lot.”

I turned to face him, confused by his comment. “How so?”

“You were instrumental in Sam turning around.”

Now I was even more confused. “I'm not sure I know what you're talking about, McCauley.”

He smiled and then explained. “The day Sam almost died in your office after the hornet stings — you remember that?”

“Indeed I do.”

“He says you talked to him about confession and cleansing. The Lord used those words to penetrate his heart. He had begun to turn around, but that day confirmed it.”

It was my turn to smile. “McCauley, it wasn't my words that made a difference. I just shared
God's
words with him. But I'm delighted to know that that small moment made such a difference.”

Laura leaned forward, “Walt, we're just glad you took the time.”

I sat back and looked across the mountains. I was pleased to hear this news and to know that just a few words could have such a powerful impact. But at the same time I wondered just how many times I hadn't taken the time to do this with other patients.

I had always been taught that a physician, with just a few words, could help a patient change his or her course for a lifetime. I was now coming to realize that this same privilege could help a patient make a decision that would be
eternal
. I sensed that my calling as a physician was far more than temporal — that the Great Physician himself was willing to take my daily, even moment-by-moment, sacrifice of time and words and use them for his purposes.

At that moment, I understood that each appointment I had with each patient wasn't just a prior arrangement thought up by the patient and scheduled by my staff — but it was an engagement orchestrated by the Great Physician himself.

I decided that evening to begin looking at each patient encounter as a divine appointment. For some of those appointments, perhaps I would be blessed to see in this life what God was up to and how he was using my words and deeds. However, I suspected that when it came to most patients, I would only be shown the fruit of my speech and actions in the next life. This realization would forever change the way I practiced medicine and approached the time I'd
spend with patients.

Arriving home, we received a good report from Mickey. However, he seemed unusually anxious to leave; in fact, after getting in his car, he drove away very quickly, without even waiting for Barb to pay him.

After checking on the kids, who appeared to be sound asleep, we retired to our bedroom and were reading when we heard a gentle tapping on our bedroom window. Barb and I exchanged puzzled looks.

“Rick?” she asked.

I shrugged my shoulders as I got out of bed and walked over to the window. I pulled the curtain open and was surprised to see my partner and friend.

I motioned to the back door, closed the curtain, and went to let him in.

“What's up, partner?” I asked. “Is this getting to be a habit?”

Rick laughed. “Well, I don't mind if you don't.”

I smiled. “Nope. Come on in.”

As we walked into the bedroom, Barb looked concerned. The last time he had come late at night, it was to tell us about Katherine. I could tell that Barb was hoping this wouldn't be another round of bad news.

Rick sat down on the bed and confided, “I just couldn't sleep tonight. There's something bothering me, and I need to talk to the two of you about it.”

“We're all ears, partner.”

“Well, I've made a difficult decision.” Rick looked down and was silent for a moment. He swallowed and continued. “I've been thinking about it for a while now. I took a long hike up Deep Creek this afternoon to think some more, and it's become clear to me — crystal clear.”

“What, Rick?” Barb asked.

Rick took a deep breath, let it out slowly, and then looked at me. “I've decided to leave the private practice of medicine, Walt.”

“What!” Barb and I exclaimed in unison.

“You're kidding?” welled across my vocal cords. I couldn't believe what I was hearing. Rick was an incredible doctor — heck, he was
our
family doctor — and an amazing partner and friend. He
couldn't
be leaving.

“Nope,” he replied. “Like I said, I've been thinking about it for quite a while.”

“Is it the other doctors?” I asked.

“Is it Katherine?” Barb inquired.

“Neither,” Rick answered.

“Something
I
did?” I queried.

Rick smiled. “Nope. Not
even
your dressing up as a woman more than once!”

We couldn't help but smile weakly, as tense as the moment was.

“It's not you all or Bryson City or the other docs, or anything like that. It's the private practice of medicine. I just have trouble with the business end of practice. It's distasteful to me to have to charge people for what we do. It's hard to explain, but I think I want to be in a health care system where I can just take care of folks without worrying about the money and the business.”

“Wow,” I responded. “You've never mentioned this before.”

“That's right, Walt. I think I just figured it out this afternoon. And not only that, but I've realized how very much I love it when I go over to Asheville to teach at the family practice residency.”

I smiled, because I shared that love of educating doctors in training. Rick and I would each take a day a month and travel the sixty miles to Asheville to supervise the residents as they saw patients at the Mountain Area Health Education Center. These young family doctors were exceptionally bright and sharp. They loved learning, and we loved teaching them. They asked lots of questions, which always kept us on our toes.

Rick continued. “I think that's where I want to be. I think that's where my heart is telling me I need to go.”

“Is it the social situation here, Rick? The isolation?” Barb asked, still incredulous.

“Oh, no!” Rick responded. “I
love
the peace out here. I love the wilderness. I love my friends. I couldn't imagine better friends than you and Walt, George and Elizabeth Ellison, and Mike Sharp. This isn't a social issue or a relational issue or a practice issue; it's a heart issue. I can't explain it any differently than that.”

We were quiet for a few moments — each lost in our thoughts. My thoughts focused on the implications of solo practice in a large building.

“When do you want to make the move?” I asked.

“No time soon, Walt. Maybe we can work together to recruit someone to come join you. Do you think John Hartman would reconsider coming up here?”

During my first rotation of my intern year at the Durham County General Hospital, John had been the third-year family medicine resident assigned to supervise my training in internal medicine. A couple of years before, John and his wife, Cleta, had visited us in Bryson City. John had thought seriously about joining Rick and me in practice, but the reality was, if it weren't for state subsidies, we couldn't keep a private practice going for
two
of us — much less three. So John began a practice in Kissimmee, Florida, with an old Navy buddy. They had since added a third doctor and were looking for a fourth.

“Rick, I think John's real happy. His practice is doing great.”

“Well, maybe the Office of Rural Health can help us recruit you a new partner.” Rick was quiet for a moment and then added, “Besides, there aren't any openings at the Asheville residency for faculty now as it is.”

“Are you sure about this?” Barb asked her dear friend.

“I am, Barb. I wasn't until this afternoon, but my time in the mountains helped me understand what I was feeling. I'm sure now. I need a different path.”

“Then,” Barb added softly as she looked at me, “if it's right for you, Rick, it's right for us.”

chapter thirty

THE SHOCK

I
t wasn't unusual for Barb and the kids to come to the office to visit me in the afternoon. What
was
unusual was for Bonnie to pull me out of an exam room to see them.

As I stepped out of the patient's room, Bonnie whispered, “You need to go to your office. It's Barb, and she's pretty upset.”

“What's going on, Bonnie?”

“I don't know, Dr. Larimore. She just said I should come get you.”

I walked to my office and closed the door behind me. The kids were sitting on the couch, looking down. They didn't jump up to give me the happy hugs I was expecting. I looked across the room at Barb, who was standing and staring out the window across the recreational park toward the crest of the Smokies.

I could tell immediately that she was upset —
very
upset.

As I moved toward her, she turned toward me and collapsed into my arms. I could feel her take a deep breath and then slowly let it out. I glanced at Kate and Scott, who kept looking down.

What was wrong? I thought. I stepped back, with Barb still in my arms, and sat in my armchair — gently easing her onto my lap. She kept her head buried against my shoulder for a few moments. I waited. Finally she sat up, sniffled, and wiped the tears from her eyes.

“Bad day?” I asked softly.

Barb tried to smile. “You have
no
idea,” she whispered. Then she stood and walked across the room to sit next to the
kids on the sofa.

“Honey,” Barb began, “Scott told me a story this afternoon that's
very
upsetting, and I think you need to hear it right away.”

Scott looked so innocent with his legs straight and sticking off the edge of the sofa. I pulled the chair in front of Kate and Scott, who were both still staring down at their laps.

“Scoot?” I uttered. “Scoot” was my favorite nickname for my son. He didn't look up.

I reached out and gave his leg a squeeze. “Go ahead, Scott, tell me what's going on.”

Scott's lips quivered as he spoke in a trembling voice. “I told Mom about Mickey, and she got upset.”

“What'd you tell her, partner?”

Scott looked up at his mom.

“Go ahead, Son,” Barb encouraged.

Scott looked back at me, took a deep breath, and began a story that would change our lives forever.

“Mickey said if me or Kate told you guys, he would come back and hurt us real bad.”

“What?” I asked. “Why?”

Scott nodded. “That's what he said, Dad. But I told Mom anyway. I think he's a creep.”

I was pleased with our strong-willed little boy who was obviously comfortable letting us know
exactly
what he thought.

“Tell me about it,” I encouraged.

“Well, after you all left last night, Mickey took us on a walk around Hospital Hill.”

“Then we came home and watched some TV, and then Mickey had us take our baths and get our pajamas on,” Kate recounted. “Then — ” Kate's head dropped.

“Then he read to us,” Scott began. “And then — ” he paused for a second and continued haltingly. “Then
it
happened.” Scott's eyes began to mist, and his lips began to quiver. He dropped his gaze again.

Kate sniffed loudly and picked up the story. “He took us to the bathroom,” she began. “He lifted Scott up on the counter and had me sit on the toilet seat. Then — ” Kate's eyes teared up as her lips quivered.

I looked at Barb, who had tears streaming down both cheeks. I turned to Kate and took her hands in mine. “Go ahead, precious. You can tell me. You're safe now.”

“Daddy — ” Kate's voice was tremulous.

I could feel the fury building inside. I took a deep breath and swallowed my emotion. “Kate, honey, I
will
keep you safe. You can tell Daddy. What happened? What did Mickey do?”

“I'll tell,” Scott bravely began. “Mickey said he had something special he wanted to show us. So he unhooked his belt and pulled down his zipper. He took my hand and made me touch him. I pulled my hand away and told him, ‘No way!' ”

Horrified inside, I also felt proud of my little boy's gumption and courage.

Kate added, “I think Mickey got mad, and he reached down and grabbed my hand. He pulled it up and made me touch him. He wanted me to rub him, Daddy, but I wouldn't. I wouldn't even look at him. And when I jerked my hand away, he got mad and began to yell at us. Then he picked us up and took us to your bedroom. He threw us on your and Mama's bed, and he made me lie on my back. He pulled up my nightgown and then he made Scott lie on top of me.”

My rage was building. I could feel my heart rate rising rapidly. My first thought was, How dare this deviant boy accost my children! And then the skeptical scientist took over. Wait a minute! Could this just be childhood imagination? There's no way a fine young guy like Mickey would ever do such a thing! Finally, my family physician's and father's heart spoke reason to my soul. You've got great kids. There's no way that both of them would lie about something like this. This is horrible! Horrible!! And on my bed, no less!!!