M.D. Bob , You Cant Do That

1. Auflage 2021
ISBN: 978-1-0983-6779-4
Verlag: BookBaby
Format: EPUB
Kopierschutz: PC/MAC/eReader/Tablet/DL/kein Kopierschutz

E-Book, Englisch, 298 Seiten

This book is the memoirs of a man whose life to this point has been truly fulfilled. The story shows how providence and hard work can allow you to achieve your goals even having been told you can't. It is an epic filled with life experiences. From a West Virginia Coal community where family values were instilled to a renowned career in his chosen field surgery, it weaves an unbelievable exciting story. There are near death moments ,struggles, accomplishments, events that can only be considered miraculous and the things that drove him ,his passions. Those passions include family, surgery, patients, patriotism ,medical missions ,love of adventure, and hopefully a testimony of his Christian faith. The journey through his life includes his childhood and teenage years that developed his independence . Collage , marriage and the twists and turns that led to medical school and obtaining a postgraduate surgical residency are described .Army service Vietnam brought changes never to be forgotten. It tells of involvement as a surgeon in a small town of good people where he had humbling respect. The 30 year opportunity of serving on surgical mission trips describes excitement , adventure ,and multiple examples of Gods control . Involvement in Cosmetic Surgery allowed art and surgery to come together for him. After obtaining training, becoming board certified he became a leader and educator both nationally and internationally. The love of equestrian sports and Foxhunting is exemplified. His dogs who were and are family are a part of the story. Lastly it is a love story of a man and a woman who have truly loved and supported each other for decades.

Autoren/Hrsg.

M.D.,

Leseproben

Childhood I was born so far back in the West Virginia mountains you had to lie on your back to see daylight. Actually, I was born in a house, not a hospital, in McConnell, West Virginia. The current census states about 600 people live there, and that is probably double the number living there when I was born. No matter, until I was in junior high school, it was a place of adventure. It’s hard to remember events of sixty-five years or more ago, but I do remember a childhood of freedom and fun in a family where I felt a warm sense of love and support. My father, one of the smartest men I’ve ever known, was an electrician in the mines and was even the chief electrician for Amherst Coal Company at one point. As time went on, he became a self-made electrical engineer. Our lives revolved around and our livelihood depended on the coal mines during the early years of my life. I suppose I inherited my adversity to “Bob, you can’t do that” from my dad. He could fix anything. He seemed to thrive on new challenges, and though not all of them were successful, it didn’t stop him from trying new things. My mother was loving, hard-working, and always thought I could do no wrong. (You can fool some of the people all the time!) To my knowledge, she was always there for me. She loved me unconditionally and covered for me when I didn’t deserve it. Most of my childhood memories include my extended family. My dad, his brothers, and only sister were extremely close. The boys worked hard during the week but partied on weekends. I don’t remember many weekends without uncles and aunts. Two of my uncles served in WWII. Prior to moving to Amherstdale, we lived next door to my paternal grandparents, Fred “Papaw” and Leona “Mamaw” Jackson. Though he died when I was very young, I have vivid memories of my Papaw. There was a grocery store in McConnell across the railroad tracks. At about the age of three, I walked the few blocks and bought some “candy surprises” for a penny apiece. I charged them to Papaw and sat on the railroad tracks, eating the candy and discovering my surprises. Then I got a real surprise: Papaw. I got my one and only spanking from him, and he told me the spanking was for sitting on the tracks and going away without permission, not for buying the candy. He said I could charge anything to him. His job during those years was delivering parts for coal mine equipment. By the age of five, I could name almost every part of a joy coal loader because he would come to our house and have coffee with my mother until I was awake. Then he took me with him on his deliveries in his pickup truck. Up and down various hollows I rode with him, and he told me about the equipment. We had lunch at restaurants, and I still remember how important I felt. The last day of his life, he sat on the floor and played with me and my toy rubber cars. I had two; they were hard to get during the war. He teased me, trying to trade me a nickel for a dime, telling me a nickel was bigger. But he was very proud when I knew the difference in value. He became ill that day and never recovered. I remember the wake at their home and someone lifting me to view him in his casket. For 36 years, Mamaw was an integral part of my life. During the early years, I spent most weekends with her and my cousins. Later, when my folks moved to Michigan, I spent a large part of summer there. The whole town—or small village—of McConnell was our playground. Streets were dirt and houses were small. The river was there, and I had great playmates for Kick the Can, hide-and-seek, and Cowboys and Indians. I learned to ride a bike and developed (or enhanced) my sense of independence there. My aunt and uncle lived in McConnell on a tall hill covered with sage grass. A large piece of cardboard made a great sled, and when the grass kind of dried, we could fly down that hill. It was during one of the times I stayed with Mamaw that I decided I wanted a doctor’s life—or, more likely, God planted the seed of my calling. When I was about five, Dr. Vaughn, a family doctor with a small office, made a house call. He treated my grandmother and gave her medication. I learned later he never charged her because she was a widow with no income. Her family took care of her. From then on, I wanted to be a physician, and that passion lives on today. No one was prouder of my accomplishments than my mamaw. As I look back, God must have appointed a guardian angel to protect me for His calling. One day a friend of mine and I were building roads for our toy cars. The ground was hard, but I knew there was an axe in the house. Surely it would be easier to break the ground up with an axe! So I gave the axe to my buddy, and I scooped the dirt to design the roads. Unfortunately, he missed and cut my index and middle finger nearly off. The cut went through the bone tendons all the way to skin. When my mother found me with my hands under the cold water, she wrapped them in a washcloth and took me to Guyan Valley, a small mine hospital in Logan. I owe some unknown doctor my career in surgery. He repaired the tendons, nerves, and bones—unheard of in the ‘40s. My fingers work fantastic, and I have had a fabulous surgical career. The following week, I could see no reason why I couldn’t climb a large tree; the splint and bandage on my hand didn’t deter me. Unfortunately, even though I made it to the top, I misjudged the strength of the limb I crawled out on. It broke, I landed on my head, and back we went to the hospital where I received multiple skin clips and circumferential head dressing. Today, my folks would have been questioned for child abuse. During those first few years, my mom, dad, and I were involved in an accident. The roads were extremely crooked, and my dad may not have been quite sober. Our car left the road, went over a hill, and flipped onto a railroad track. I only remember being in the car, upside down on the tracks. I got an abrasion on my head, and my mother escaped with a broken clavicle. Another example of God’s protection. When I was in first grade, we moved to Amherstdale, farther back in the mountains, and stayed there until I was in fourth grade. My dad was Chief Electrician, and due to the caste system that existed in the mines, we received a large two-story house on the mountain. As usual, my dad hired his brothers. We had a sidewalk in front of our house, and since we were on a steep hill, you could really get a Red Flyer wagon rolling. The only problem was the five-foot drop-off at the bottom. I survived! Movies on Saturday at the company store complex were part of my weekly activities. All the Hollywood cowboys were our heroes. Having seen some hangings of bad guys in the movies, I wanted to see what it was like. We tied a small rope around my neck, and I tied it to a fence near the drop-off and jumped. Fortunately, the rope broke, and I survived with only rope burn. Most miners at that time chewed tobacco since they couldn’t smoke in the mines. I found a pouch of Redman tobacco in a kitchen drawer. No one told me you weren’t supposed to swallow it. I can still remember how sick and green I felt, which was a great cure at age six; I never tried to chew again. I started school while living there. Mrs. Ferrell my teacher was loving but had a paddle with a few holes in it. I received the discipline of the paddle on occasion, and it didn’t hurt my psychological makeup at all, though it did instruct me to respect my elders. I remember volunteering for every injection or medical treatment offered by the mine company. They were given at a clinic at the company store, and it was an excuse to get out of school for a while. Recess was exciting—sometimes, too exciting. Culverts started high in the mountains as a small, round duct and ended in the creek as a large square. A first grader could stand up in the exit. Natural, or maybe unnatural, curiosity caused me and another adventurous first grader to travel through the tube under the road and probably a mile or more up the mountain. By squeezing, we crawled out of the hole at the end into bright sunshine. Even more fortuitous, we didn’t encounter any copperheads or rattlers, both known to be in the area. The trip made us about an hour late returning from recess, and the school officials were looking for us. We were the recipients of Mrs. Ferrell’s paddle and probably a similar experience when I got home. Later, we moved down the road to another house, but I remained in the same school—it was just a farther walk. The new house had four rooms and a path. (Outhouses are cold!) A complex of railroad tracks went between the road and my house. It was a quick short-cut to crawl under the railroad coal cars to get to my house, but I was told not to ever try because the cars moved all the time, and I could have been cut in half. The last time I disobeyed that rule, I crawled out from under the cars and found my mother on the other side with a small, flexible stick that blistered me all the way home. A bully a grade or two above me took my coat and threw it in the creek on my way home from school. I was warned by my dad that if I didn’t beat the bully up the next day, I would get a spanking. I complied and won even though he was bigger, and I didn’t get Dad’s spanking. I didn’t get bullied anymore, either. Maybe not the best way to learn that lesson, but Dad taught me to stand up for myself. During the summer, two of my uncles sold produce off a large truck, and I was allowed to accompany them. I remember selling the produce in various hollows. I was just a kid, but they were busy, and I could see what they were doing, so I pitched in, and they...