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Years Makes a Difference
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Chapter 8
On a
drab, drizzly day — one on which the cold seeps into one's bones—Dr. Colby
sat fishing beside Sheriff Adams. The little dot of a town which only showed up
on the occasional map was called Belleview. It was close to the
The
sheriff and the doctor talked occasionally as they fished, and eventually, the
story of a young boy who had lost his father was discussed. The town had no
doctor, and even though it wasn’t his responsibility, Colby realized that he
could have saved the man and helped a boy avoid losing his father. This
irrational burden for one young fatherless boy had helped Colby make the
decision that so changed his life.
Later
that evening, Colby sat in front of the television in a recliner, eating a TV
dinner from a metal folding tray. He watched the news as he ate, and that's
when he heard the whole story on the news. A loving father had a heart attack
one night. The man's family drove him twenty-five minutes to the hospital,
just in time to watch him die. He had been without medical help too long for
the doctors at the hospital to do him any good. By then, the man had slipped
away--he was dead.
Colby
had arrived in town the next day, just in time to hear the story while the
town’s anguish was still fresh. "God hounded me with the story," he
said later. He was unable to escape the details, even though he tried to
forget it. Shortly after he got up on Sunday morning, he bought a newspaper,
intending to work out the crossword puzzle. The cover story left him
speechless—it was a personal interest story about the man's volunteer
activities, which included work for Angel Tree, one of Colby's favorite
charities.
On
the lake, later that day, he meditated on all he had seen and read.
"Nitroglycerin could have saved him, and a
little intervention from a trained medical professional. A local clinic could
have averted this tragedy," Dr, Colby read in the editorial section.
“It’s time we paid to establish a local clinic. Lord knows, we need it.” That
editorial had stuck with Colby.
“
Lord,” he asked as he prayed, “is that what you want
from me? I’m old, and I’m tired of city life and working so hard—yet now you
seem to want me to take on a whole new project. Haven’t I given enough of
myself to the poor in the city?”
For
years, he had worked in a free clinic, getting paid from what little grant
funding they could find. When he developed a few innovative treatments for
common ailments, he eventually garnered some support from wealthier clients
who offered him high-paying positions.
Colby
knew what he was called to do, however, and he stayed in the inner city,
doing what he could to help the kids from the Projects. Still, his
benefactors funded his work, and his clinic was one of the most modern and
forward-thinking in the entire city. Now, he had enough help to leave and
take a vacation without a backward glance. He could leave it now, and it
would go on without him. But would he be able to leave—and what would he
do in a small town like Belleview—even the name was silly.
In
Colby
had worked hard in New York, and he had earned every
single one of his vacations a thousand times over. Now, years after he had
made the sacrifices God had required of him, the Lord wanted even more. “It’s
not fair, Father. You created a whole world of people. Why do I have to carry
so much?” The answer was swift in coming, Because they won’t do it.
Colby
thought of all the friends he had met in medical school—idealistic young men,
hardly older than boys, who planned to change the world of medicine. Slowly,
they had been caught in the web of riches and fame. Now, only he was left
serving the poor and caring for the needy with undying zeal. Is it really
time to give that up?
He
had ended the night in prayer, an ache in his soul forcing him to take it
personally--to feel a need to make a decision. He chose to follow God, yet
again--blindly--into a situation which was foreign to him. He longed for
rest, but he knew that it would only come when God gave him the okay. It
finally came, and within weeks, he resigned his post in
On
his last day, he stayed late, helping his favorite nurse pull down the
rolling gate that kept out robbers at night, and helped to protect the
windows from swinging beer bottles or baseball bats. His clinic was in the
Colby
never worried, however. His care had saved many a drug dealer and gang
member, and he was known for his healing without judgment, sound advice only
when sought after, and kind compassion, in spite of a gruff exterior. In
short, the people of this city respected him, and he had no doubt that
mothers would teem out of doors and rise up to attack anyone who would
thoughtlessly try to harm him. He was safer here, he knew, than in any other
part of the world. This was home, and he happily made his way to the Super's
apartment-- a place of honor in this bustling city.
His
apartment was large for a single man. It had two bedrooms, a comfortable
living room, and it was on the first floor of a well-cared for building. The
government housing project had been built by a wealthy and honorable man, and
its Super's apartment was allowed to alone inhabit this floor, along with a
community room that could be rented to residents for special events.
Colby
was glad of his solitary digs. His apartment was his little island of
contentment in a very large city, and he regularly thanked the super for his
sacrifice. Now, however, he arrived to find it filled with boxes. He would
leave in the morning.
< ; ; > < > < ; ; > < ; ; > < > < ; ; >
With
his clinic’s acceptance and help, he made the move. His employees literally
loaded up his moving van, the women going inside to cook him a big, send-off
meal. He joked that the food was loaded with enough bad stuff to send him
back to the clinic as a patient, but he ate ever bite. It wasn’t often that
he indulged in fatty foods, so today, he took the
plunge and enjoyed his going-away party.
So,
Colby “retired” to this quiet town. The positive side effect had been that he
now operated his clinic on banker's hours, for the most part. But better yet,
and most importantly, he had been given the chance to begin family life.
Here, God had given the almost sixty year old man a wife, followed by a
surprise daughter, and the chance to get to know a remarkable boy.
< ; ; > < > < ; ; > < ; ; > < > < ; ; >
Patrick
had told him once, a while later, that when Colby was gone, he wanted to
continue on in his place. His desire, he said, was to “use my life to help
the people of this town." Patrick's eyes stared intently into Colby's
face when he said this, steady and certain. Then, he had lowered his gaze,
not wanting to make plain the anguish on his face. "I want to make sure
it never happens again..." He added softly "…to anyone."
Patrick
was the boy who had brought him to this town. His father had been the Angel
Tree volunteer who died for lack of nitroglycerin. Knowing of the boy's
bravery after so much pain would have been enough to recommend him to Dr.
Colby. Yet, somehow, his eager desire to make a difference made him feel like
a son to the old doctor. After that, Colby had used every connection he had
to get the boy into a good medical school.
Finding
him capable and willing to assist in all areas of the medical practice was
further proof that Colby's confidence in the boy hadn't been misplaced. Further,
he was honest, dependable, and humble. The humility Patrick felt at being
honored with Colby's care was exceeded only by the pride Colby felt at his
young protégé’s growing talent.
By
nature, Colby wasn't very demonstrative, so Patrick might have doubted the
love the old doctor gave him. Over time, however, his wife had taught Colby
how show his love, and Patrick always knew how he felt about having him in
his life. However, the night he got his medical school acceptance letter,
Patrick's sobs and heartfelt expression of appreciation for the doctor’s
support had completely cemented the doctor’s attachment to the boy. For
years, they'd been inseparable.
12 Years Makes a Difference
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