I was born and raised on a farm some distance from a small town in northeastern Nebraska. The town had two medical doctors. I remember my parents driving fifteen miles further to another community when we needed medical attention. This happened during the depression years and it was a hardship to drive the extra miles to a doctor.
Of the two doctors living in this small town, one was an alcoholic. He was the best of the two doctors serving there if you were able to find him sober, however, that was never very often. No one ever knew if it would be possible to find him sober enough to meet the present medical need.
His office was in a small hotel. As I grew up and sw him staggering on the streets, I felt sorrow, pity, and sometimes anger. It hurt to watch him throw his life away when he had so much he could have offered. I realized how much the community needed him and his wisdom but were never able to depend on him.
What a waste of life all because of alcohol. He couldn't leave it alone. It ruled his life and destroyed his ability to be the doctor he was capable of being and no doubt the doctor he would have liked to become.
Many tears were shed because of the destruction of this talented life.
Submitted by: Bonnie Gilmer
