Too Much of One, Not Enough of the Other

I can’t remember a time when I wasn’t trying to help heal someone or something.  As a little girl on my family’s dairy farm, I made it my mission to help my father with the care of the animals.  Such was my dedication that when I found a baby bird that fell out of its nest, I took great pains to nurse it to health and see that it was able to care for itself before I set it free.

Originally, I was determined to heal others the old-fashioned way, with herbs and energy work.  I’d read plenty of how-to books on the subject and even taken a few online courses. When I left the farm as soon as I graduated high school and moved to find my way in the nearby city of Winchester, Virginia. I even went as far as to open my own holistic practice. 

It was when I attended a six-week course through the local college’s community education program on herbal remedies that I decided that it was okay to integrate herbal and energy healing with modern medicine.  I really didn’t need the course.  I’d poured myself into that world for so many years that there was very little in the line of herbal remedies or reiki energy work left for me to learn.  I just enjoyed taking the classes and mixing with likeminded people who got a kick out of exchanging herbal remedy recipes and reiki sessions. 

Dr. Peter Thomason was the instructor of this class. I didn’t know for sure, but I guessed him to be in his early thirties.  He was not only full of excitement for life, but I found him incredibly handsome and charismatic. It was more than his looks; which, in themselves, were enough to mesmerize any healthy, red-blooded female. I couldn’t imagine anyone being able to resist his royal blue eyes that were made to look even bluer by the thick black lashes that framed them and his sun-bronzed skin as a background.  He had a full head of shoulder length hair that was almost ebony black with hints of sunlight running through it. They were more prominent in the out of doors than under the florescent lights of the classroom.  He wore his generous head of hair pulled back in an old-fashioned queue for most of the classes, but there were a few times when he simply let it fall wildly about. When he did, it framed his high cheek bones and square jaw in such a way as to make me wish it was my arms wrapped so possessively around such beauty instead of that hair.  I would sit in the back of the room and revel in the sight of the lean, muscular physique that I was sure existed beneath his baggy linen shirt and pants.

On the few occasions when I was near enough, the pheromones he emitted practically drove me to the point that I needed to either leave the room or jump his bones; which was saying a lot because I was still a virgin. Since we were in a classroom with other students- and, even if we were alone, I was too inexperienced to know how to lure him into taking me right there on his desk- I opted to leave the room.  I’d visit the ladies room for a splash of cool water on my face and a good one-on-one scolding between me and my reflection in the mirror.

He’d recently arrived from a tour with Doctors Without Borders in Africa, which was where he got that memorable tan. More than once, he’d share a tale or two of what it was like for him to treat those in need with both herbs and modern medicine.  It was through his stories that I concluded that both had their place, and both had their value.  It soon became clear to me that by combining the two, I’d be able to heal a lot more efficiently and effectively.  By the time the six-week course was over, I was looking at colleges to attend for my medical degree.

Sadly, Dr. Thomason was scheduled to go on yet another tour with Doctors Without Borders shortly after the course ended, but I managed to convince him to have coffee with me to discuss my plans to go to medical school before we said our good-byes.  Admittedly, I would have preferred our conversation between the sheets after a ridiculously long marathon of love making instead of at Starbucks while drinking a latte and eating a cheese Danish, but no matter.  The meeting with the oh so handsome Dr. Peter Thomason, die-hard good Samaritan, was so intense and profound that it solidified my determination to become a medical doctor.

That was twelve years ago.

With my residency behind me, and a medical license finally in my grasp, life became a whirlwind of busy and full, but there were still times when I had a few moments of quiet to reflect on things that a vision of the handsome Dr. Peter Thomason popped into my mind and I wondered what good deeds he was doing and what third world was he doing them in.

 As for what was happening with me in my world…  I’d accepted a position as the town physician in a small community, called Wolf Junction, in the hills of West Virginia, not far from Mechanicsville. It wasn’t that I didn’t have opportunities to join the staff at a few prestigious hospitals.  I’d even been offered a position at a couple of holistic clinics that specialized in using both traditional and alternative medicine when dealing with illnesses such as cancer.  I was seriously considering one particular clinic in Phoenix when I learned of the position as town doctor in Wolf Junction. At first, I paid it little mind. After all, I may have been a newly licensed physician, but, not only was I top in my class, I was also highly knowledgeable in herbal and energy medicine.  The idea of the freedom being a town doctor would offer over that of a clinic with its hierarchy and rules was alluring.  I’d done my residency in a big city hospital with its mega rules, regulations, and jealous competitiveness amongst peers. Being able to work on my own and call the shots was definitely appealing. When I read the report on the recent outbreak of death by mysterious causes, I was sold.  The idea of being the physician to discover the illness that was killing a goodly number of Wolf Junction residents when others were stumped was far too alluring.  I just had to accept the offer. Besides, it would also provide me the freedom I so valued when it came to integrating alternative and traditional medicine.  The depths of the Blue Ridge Mountains weren’t exactly third world, but society in small towns tended to be less progressive than most of the country.  It was as close to third world as I was going to get.

So, with my medical degree and license proudly in hand, I packed my bags and headed off to Wolf Junction and my new life as Dr. Vickie Anderson, the town physician. 

Little did I know what I was getting myself in for.