Bryson City Tales
Page 31
“I sent him on to the hospital. He was purty tore up. Figure he needs a serious sedative. The men had been lumberin’ together the best part of four decades.”
Rick sat his black bag on the ground and opened it. He reached in and removed a set of latex gloves. Then he stood and began to slowly walk around the body as he pulled on the gloves. When he came back to the front of the body, he first reached for the man’s arm. It was still supple and moved easily. He hasn’t been dead that long, Rick thought. He felt for the radial pulse he didn’t expect to feel. Indeed, there was none.
Then he slowly reached out toward the hard hat. It was driven into the tissues of the shoulder and took a bit of wiggling and pulling to remove it. When it slipped free, Rick gasped and fell back. He could not believe his eyes—as an overwhelming sense of nausea overcame him.
chapter two
EYES WIDE OPEN
The phone rang, waking me—but not Barb—from our afternoon nap. I rolled over to answer the phone.
“Hello,” I muttered. Unlike Rick, I tried to sound as tired as possible. I wanted whomever this was who was disturbing my nap to know she was doing so. Admittedly, it was a rather selfish tactic.
“Don’t you play like you’re sleeping! I know you’ve been sitting outside on your bench with Mrs. Larimore.”
It was Millie on the other end of the line. Every doctor knew Millie. She was one of the dispatch officers for the Swain County Sheriff’s Department. Millie knew just about everything about every doctor in the county—all seven of us. She always seemed to know where we would be and what we would be doing at almost any time of any day. Equally important to me was that Millie knew every road and every nook and cranny of the county.
“I was sleeping!” I complained.
“No you ain’t. Louise Thomas in ER told me she seen you and Mrs. Larimore out on your bench behind your house.”
“Millie!” I tried to sound irritated. “Once again, Louise is wrong. Mrs. Larimore and I were on that bench, but that was over an hour ago. More recently, we were trying to lie down for a nap.”
I heard her snicker.
“Millie, you’ve been reading too many of those romance novels.” I tried to snarl at her, but not very effectively.
She replied with her typical and very condescending, “Yes, I know.” She continued, “Well, anyway, the sheriff and Dr. Pyeritz just called me here. They want you to come help ’em at a crime scene.”
I sat up. “I saw Dr. Pyeritz light out of here a little while ago. What happened?”
“Logging accident. One dead. No others injured.”
“What does he need me for?”
“How am I supposed to know?”
“Millie, it seems to me you know most everything around here.”
“Well, I ain’t no smarty-pants, know-it-all doctor, I’ll tell you that!”
I realized I was treading on thin ice. “Where’s Dr. Pyeritz located?”
“Dr. Larimore, I’m not even sure I could get up there. It’s up near the top of Frye Mountain. But if you get down to the ambulance squad, you can ride up there with them. So you stop your romancing that beautiful wife of yours and git moving, ya hear?”
I felt like I was being lectured by my mother. I hung up and got out of bed. Barb was sound asleep—as were our children. I slowly closed the kitchen screen door behind me as I left the house.
I met Don Grissom and Billy Smith, two of Swain County’s finest paramedics, at the sheriff’s office. They had the ambulance cooled down and ready to go. The air-conditioned unit felt wonderful. I hopped into the back and pulled down a small seat so that I could sit just behind and between them. On the way up the mountain, I told them all I knew about the case.
Billy commented, “Sheriff and Rogers both say hit’s the strangest thang they done ever seen.”
Dave chimed in, “That Rogers just got a soft belly. Don’t take much to get him green-faced.”
“Yeah,” added Billy, chuckling. “Kinda like you were in your first coroner’s case, Doc.”
That crime scene was seared into my memory. Two men were drunk and got into a fight. One of them pulled out a loaded shotgun. The two wrestled over the gun, it went off, and one of them had his head blown off and his brains splattered all over the walls and ceiling of a small bedroom.
Chagrined, I admitted, “I did get green on that one.”
“’Member when we first met you?” Don asked.
I thought for a second and then smiled. “Yep. It was my first home delivery. Millie called me out on my first night on call here in Bryson City. I asked her to call you guys to come back me up.”
Billy laughed. “I’d have liked to have seen yer face when you walked in that barn with that ole farmer and saw his white-faced heifer locked in breech. I’d pay anything fer a picture of that moment.”
“Yep, my first home delivery was quite an education.”
“Doc, ya know if Clem still got that calf?”
“He does. In fact, I just saw her last week.”
“Did you shore ’nuff?”
“Yep. I go see her from time to time—after all, Clem did name that little calf after me.”
“No way.”
“He did. Named her Walter.”
The two paramedics broke out in laughter.
“Seems like so very long ago, doesn’t it?” I commented, more to myself than to them.
“Well, time does fly when you’re having fun!” commented Don, “But, Doc, I’ll tell ya this—you’ll be needin’ to git a lot more miles on ya. One year of practice out here is jest a begin-nin’—at least compared to your colleagues.”
I smiled. “I know.” As Don drove up a steep valley, I thought about the other physicians in town. Harold Bacon, M.D., was nearly eighty and the dean of the medical community. Bill Mitchell, M.D., was in his seventies and a general surgeon who had served as a captain in the Army in World War II. We all called him Mitch. Along with Ray Cunningham, M.D., who was a Bryson City native, they formed Swain Surgical Associates.
Ray was a much younger surgeon than Mitch and was the only residency-trained and board-certified physician in town besides Rick and me. Mitch and Ray had helped recruit Rick and me to the area and were allowing us to practice medicine with them until our new office was completed.
The ambulance bumped as it left the paved road and began climbing up a narrow, graveled mountain road. I thought about the other local doctors. Paul Sale, M.D., was just about fifty years old and a general practitioner. Like Harold and Mitch, he had practiced in Bryson City his entire career. However, Ken Mathieson, D.O., had retired from practice someplace else and settled in our hamlet to set up what would be his last practice. Like Rick and me, he was still considered an outsider.
The ambulance strained as it climbed the steep lumber roads.
“Good thang this here has four-wheel drive,” Billy commented—to no one in particular.
Finally we arrived at the scene.
Rick had heard the ambulance struggling up the mountain road and met us at the tape.
“What’s up, partner?” I asked him, as I hopped out of the unit.
“I’ve never seen anything like it, Walt! Just wanted you to see. You know, create a memory together.” He tried to smile—but couldn’t. He turned, and we followed.
The four of us walked over the ridge where the deputy met us—the sheriff having left to return to town. There was no banter, as we all turned to fix our eyes on the body and the shocking scene in front of us. As we walked around it, Rick explained what he had learned. “Obviously, the cause of death is blunt trauma to the head.”
“How’s he still standing?” asked Don.
“I wondered the same thing,” Rick answered. “The blow clearly drove his lower legs deep into the mud. And it must have crushed his spine in such a way that he’s stuck upright. Of course, having the tree right behind him helps.”
Don commented, almost to himself, “Seems like he’d bend over frontward at the hi
ps, don’t it?”
“I agree,” I said. We three continued to walk around the body—not believing what we were seeing.
Then I noticed the crushed hard hat sitting on the shoulders. I looked at Rick. “Have you taken the hat off?”
“I did. But you may not want to, Walt. It’s pretty ugly.”
The deputy chuckled. “I thought Dr. Pyeritz here was gonna toss his lunch. He got even greener than you did at the Crisp shooting, Dr. Larimore.”
“Well, Rick,” I muttered, “at least our reputations are established among the law enforcement community, eh?”
“I’m just kiddin’ you boys,” the deputy said. “Don’t take no offense. Happens to every new doctor comes out this way. You jest don’t see these types of things in the city, do ya?”
“True enough!” I responded. “Well, let’s take a look.”
I took a deep breath and then lifted the flattened hard hat off the shoulders of the dead man. I’m sure my instant shock was apparent to anyone not transfixed on what I was seeing. It wasn’t the skull, squished like an eggshell, that stunned me. It wasn’t the brain, open and exposed, that surprised me. It wasn’t even the dead man’s face, crushed but facing up, that dazed me. It was the dead man’s eyes—wide open, protruding, and staring straight up toward heaven. I slowly replaced the hard hat back on the dead man’s shoulders, feeling nauseous.
“Reckon he never knew what hit him,” Don whispered.
Then there was a moment of quiet. No one spoke until the deputy broke the uncomfortable silence. “Dr. Pyeritz, anything else you need?”
“I don’t think so, sir.”
“Well, let’s see if we can get him out of the mud and over to Sylva for the autopsy. Then I’ll go over and talk to his wife. It’s not the best part of my job.”
“It’s not the best part of ours, either,” Rick whispered to me.
We turned to head back to our cars. On the drive back into town I thought back on the start of my professional life in Bryson City, the sudden turns and unexpected tragedies like the one I had just witnessed, the fragility of life, and the part I played in that drama. I looked out the window and turned my eyes toward the heavens. Would I be ready for whatever was coming next? I thought, and I wondered what this new year would bring.
Bryson City Seasons
More Tales of a Doctor’s Practice
in the Smoky Mountains
Walt Larimore, MD
Welcome to Bryson City, a small town tucked away in a fold of North Carolina’s Smoky Mountains. The scenery is breathtaking, the home cooking can’t be beat, the Maroon Devils football team is the pride of the town, and you won’t find better steelhead fishing anywhere. But the best part is the people you’re about to meet in the pages of Bryson City Seasons.
In this joyous sequel to his bestselling Bryson City Tales, Dr. Walt Larimore whisks you along on a journey through the seasons of a Bryson City year. On the way, you’ll encounter crusty mountain men, warmhearted townspeople, peppery medical personalities, and the hallmarks of a simpler, more wholesome way of life. Culled from the author’s experiences as a young doctor settling into rural medical practice, these captivating stories are a celebration of this richly textured miracle called life.
The whole book is delightful. My only criticism: there wasn'tenough of it!
Margaret Brand, MD, co-laborer with Dr. Paul Brand in leprosy work in India
Softcover: 0-310-25672-0
Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!
Bryson City Secrets
Even More Tales of a Small-Town
Doctor in the Smoky Mountains
Walt Larimore, MD
More enchanting tales of the people and events that shaped a young doctor’s life and faith during his early practice in the Smoky Mountains …
There are places in Bryson City where the smell of home cooking is a little too tempting for an empty stomach. Don’t, for instance, pass the Fryemont Inn when the windows are open—not unless you plan to come inside and enjoy fresh-baked rolls, gourmet cooking, and an owner who is as warm and inviting as the food. She’s just one of the friendly faces you’ll meet in Bryson City Secrets.
Told with winsome humor and deep affection, Bryson City Secrets is a story-lover’s delight, continuing Dr. Walt Larimore’s reminiscences of his early years of country medical practice. Pull up a chair and feast on this rich fare of Smoky Mountain personalities, highland wisdom, and all the tears, laughter, tenderness, faith, courage, and misadventures of small-town life.
Softcover: 0-310-26634-3
Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!
Learn How to Take Evangelism out of the Religious Box and Weave It into Your Life at Work.
Going Public with Your Faith
Becoming a Spiritual Influence at Work
William Carr Peel, Th.M.,
and Walt Larimore, M.D.
Going Public with Your Faith: Becoming a Spiritual Influence at Work flies in the face of almost everything you’ve ever read or heard about evangelism. Forget mechanical, aggressive styles of witnessing that treat evangelism as a one-time event. Real evangelism is a process. It’s organic—a lot more like farming than selling.
Going Public with Your Faith offers a proven model for evangelism that respects the unique relationships you have with your coworkers, clients, or customers. It shows how you can be authentic instead of artificial when sharing what you believe, build trust with even the most skeptical person, and cultivate caring connections with those who have not yet come to a saving faith in Christ.
If you’ve ever wanted your life to count for the kingdom, Going Public with Your Faith will show you how your God-given gifts and talents can easily and naturally draw customers, clients, and coworkers to a personal relationship with Jesus Christ.
Softcover: 0-310-24609-1
Abridged Audio Pages® Cassette: 0-310-24618-0
Abridged Audio Pages® CD: 0-310-24618-0
Pick up a copy today at your favorite bookstore!
About Dr. Walt Larimore
Dr. Walt Larimore has been a medical journalist since 1995. He was awarded the prestigious “Gracie” Award in 2000 by the American Women in Radio and Television for his work as host of Ask the Family Doctor, a daily program of the Fox Health Network. Since 2002 he has hosted a nationally syndicated radio and television health news feature. Dr. Larimore has appeared in interviews on NBC’s TODAY show, CBS’s THIS MORNING, CNN HEADLINE NEWS, CNBC’s THE ABRAMS REPORT, PBS’s FAMILY WORKS, and several Fox News shows.
Dr. Larimore practiced family medicine for over twenty years and served for over a decade as a volunteer physician for the U.S. Olympic Committee. Dr. Larimore—who has been honored as “America’s Outstanding Family Practice Educator” by the American Academy of Family Physicians and “Educator of the Year” by the Christian Medical Association—has been listed in
• Distinguished Physicians of America
• Best Doctors in America
• Who’s Who in Medicine and Healthcare
• International Health Professionals and Scientists of the Year
As an author, Dr. Larimore has written, cowritten, or edited a dozen books, including: 10 ESSENTIALS OF HIGHLY HEALTHY PEOPLE, THE HIGHLY HEALTHY CHILD, BRYSON CITY TALES, BRYSON CITY SEASONS, GOING PUBLIC WITH YOUR FAITH: BECOMING ASPIRITUAL INFLUENCE AT WORK, WHY ADHD DOESN’T MEAN DISASTER, and ALTERNATIVE MEDICINE: THE CHRISTIAN HANDBOOK.
He and his wife, Barb, have been married for over thirty years, have two grown children, and live in Colorado Springs, Colorado.
about the publisher
Founded in 1931, Grand Rapids, Michigan-based Zondervan, a division of HarperCollinsPublishers, is the leading international Christian communications company, producing best-selling Bibles, books, new media products, a growing line of gift products and award-winning children’s products. The world’s largest Bible publisher, Zondervan (www.zondervan.com) holds exclusive publishing rights to the New Inter
national Version of the Bible and has distributed more than 150 million copies worldwide. It is also one of the top Christian publishers in the world, selling its award-winning books through Christian retailers, general market bookstores, mass merchandisers, specialty retailers, and the Internet. Zondervan has received a total of 68 Gold Medallion awards for its books, more than any other publisher.
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