Bryson City Secrets: Even More Tales Of A Small-Town Doctor In The Smoky Mountains - Plot & Excerpts
I called the old overstuffed chair my “quiet time chair” — while Barb quite heartlessly referred to it as a “hunk of junk.” Nevertheless, the longer I practiced as a family doctor, the more I felt the need for the advice and guidance of the Great Physician. My morning time with him had become a necessity for me — a source of daily comfort and guidance. “Daddy?” said a little voice coming from the kitchen. I heard the shuffling of Kate’s feet as she walked across the kitchen floor. “In the living room, sweetheart,” I called out to her. As she walked in, I felt myself smiling like a Cheshire cat. After all, my girl was walking — nearly normally! And without any of the clunky braces she had worn for several years. Her surgery at Duke Medical Center, the subsequent weeks in a full leg cast, and the months of laborious physical therapy were paying off handsomely. When Kate was first diagnosed with cerebral palsy at six months of age, the pediatric neurologist predicted she would never walk or talk.
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