Bryson City Secrets: Even More Tales of a Small-Town Doctor in the Smoky Mountains by Walt Larimore MD

Author:Walt Larimore, MD
Language: eng
Format: epub
Tags: Array
Publisher: Zondervan

chapter nineteen

MAKIN’ MOONSHINE

The Mountain View Manor Nursing Home was located on the top of a rather large hill not far from the city limits of Bryson City. As the name indicates, it featured a gorgeous view of the crest of the distant Smokies.

Dr. Bacon was the facility’s longtime medical director who took care of most of the residents. However, each of the doctors in town, including Rick and me, had some patients in residence there. Harold Bacon, M.D., was the oldest of the county docs, and although supposedly retired, he continued to see patients. He; Dr. Paul Sale, an excellent general practitioner in his fifties; and Dr. Mathieson had their offices in separate small buildings — all of which were formerly private homes and located just across the street from the hospital.

My main reason for visiting the nursing home one Saturday morning was to check on Carl Walkingstick and see how he was doing in rehabilitation after his below-knee amputation. When I approached the nursing station, no one was there, so I picked up Carl’s chart and walked to his room. When I entered the room, I was surprised to see that his bed was made and unoccupied. The bathroom wasn’t occupied either. For a moment I almost panicked, wondering if something terrible might have happened.

However, just then I heard a group of men laughing in the sunroom at the end of the hall. I instantly knew where I’d find Carl. As I walked toward the men, the laughter erupted again. Sitting with Carl were two ancient men with clownish, ear-to-ear smiles.

Carl saw me first. “Howdy, Doc. Come sit a spell.”

“Not sure it’s healthy,” I kidded.

“Why shore ’nuff ’tis!” exclaimed one of Carl’s companions. “We ain’t got no germs.”

“I’m not commenting on your health, gentlemen,” I said, pulling up a chair. “I’m talking about the health of my reputation. If I’m seen with you guys, my reputation may suffer.”

“Not a chance in the world, Doc,” the other man observed.

“Why not?” I asked.

He was smiling a toothless grin. “’Cause I done checked around, and you ain’t got no reputation ’round these parts anyway. Caint lose what ya ain’t got!”

I smiled sheepishly as the men erupted in laughter.

When he quit laughing, Carl introduced me. “Doc, this here’s Tom Kirkland and this here’s Henry Styles. Gentlemen, meet Dr. Walt Larimore.” Handshakes were exchanged.

“Carl,” I commented, “best be careful of the company you choose. How are you doing?”

“Well,” he replied, “the vittles up here ain’t as good as Eloise’s at the hospital. But I’m losin’ some weight and my sugar is well controlled. And my stump’s doin’ real good.”

I squatted down to examine the wound from Carl’s amputation. It was healing very nicely. “Dr. Cunningham did a fine job,” I commented. The men watched as I re-dressed the stump.

Henry commented, “You younger docs sure seem ta have a lot different training than the older fellas. I don’t think I’ve ever seen one dress a patient’s wound. They leave it to the nurses.”

I smiled as I continued my work.

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