Rosalie Grimes had a dream. She spent her growing up years surrounded by family members who had chosen medicine as a life profession. Grandpa Grimes had been a family practice doc who traveled the Ouachia Mountains surrounding their home in Hot Springs, Arkansas, in search of his patients who ranged from homesteaders to stillmakers. He had been a commissioned as a physician in the Confederate Army and had seen all kind of mayhem. As the war progressed, medicine, particularly painkillers, were vitually nonexistent, and more soldiers were lost than spared due to not only injury, but dysentery, pneumonia, cholera and smallpox. Rosalie sat for hours, much to her mother's chagrin, listening to countless stories of war, tending to injury and performing surgeries without anesthesia.
He came home to reopen his practice in Hot Springs and instead of having a thriving practice that supplied his family's needs financially, his instead was more of a barter system. Let's just say, the family never wanted for chicken on the table. Fried chicken, chicken and dumplings, chicken pot pie, boiled chicken, baked chicken. You name it!
Instead of steering Rosalie's dad in another direction professionally, he, too found himself in medical school, only to return to Hot Springs as well. Taking over where his father left off, with a new bride, whose father also was a physician in Nashville at the prestigious Vanderbilt University, he revamped the clinic and brought it up to the New Age...that being the 1920s.
Mrs. Grimes had high hopes for her daughter. But instead of becoming the perfect little lady, Rosalie filled her childhood days in the company of the house help. The "help" as they were termed in those days, taught Rosalie how to grow a flower garden, how to keep house and, most importantly, to cook. Mrs. Grimes was mortified by Rosalie's behavior and inept social skills. And to make matters worse, when Rose was old enough she began to help her dad out in their clinic. And before long the decision was made. She wanted to be a doctor. Her mother had a serious case of the vapors over that one. "Ladies do not practice medicine. Ladies stay home, take care of the home and children." Rosalie rolled her eyes and continued her plans.
During her second year of medical school Rosalie became ill. Before long she was unable to do the work required to continue. After much poking, prodding and testing, the jury came back with her diagnosis. Rheumatoid Arthritis. In those days this disease was not only crippling and debilitating but dictated how the remainder of the diagnosed's life would be lived. Heartbroken she returned home from Vanderbilt University and tried to pick up the pieces of her life.
Her father came up with a capital idea. He wrote the necessary letters to family in Colorado and within three months she had made the move to Ouray in the Southwest San Juan Mountains. Here she would thrive and live a productive life. Here she would find herself. Here she would come to the knowledge, both in her heart and her head, that God had a plan for her life.
Hazel, it continues to be an interesting story. As just a suggestion, however, I'd spend the time to "proof read" for grammar and spelling. Any manuscript you would send to a publisher with "errors" would automatically be rejected. Like I said...just a friendly suggestion! Have a great day...