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57 “Tom, I’m starting to get really concerned.The protest by the OB/GYN physicians seems to be gathering support,” was the recorded warning from Robert Blake. Before pulling out of the Indian Lodge parking lot Friday morning, I had used my cell phone to check voice mail at the hospital in Austin. Blake’s message continued, “I’m getting requests from more and more doctors in the department wanting to attend the meeting to support the request. An ugly discussion of the issue has been taking place in the physicians’ lounge. I was afraid refusing to let them attend would just fuel the fire, so I granted permission for all interested physicians to attend the board meeting.” In fact, it would have been quite acceptable for him to decline the request. The boardroom was relatively small, so the meetings were open to participants and invited guests only. I frequently rejected requests to attend. Blake knew that by the time I got to the hospital on Monday morning it would be too late for me to reverse his decision. I had no doubt that he wanted to leave the board with the impression that physician dissatisfaction was rampant. Even if I stopped the physicians from attending, Blake would still come off as more physician-friendly. I had to admit that he had played this well. A second message was from Dr. Kerley, proclaiming his anger at my canceling his meeting, and attempting to use the controversy involving the OB/GYN physicians to his own advantage. “Canceling our meeting at that late hour,” he complained, “was simply unacceptable, particularly when I know that you had just met with doctors Howard and Fine.Now,I have never gotten involved in the politics involving the women’s center, and I do not wish to do so now, but if you do not show me more professional courtesy, I may have to join that group.” Clearly a threat—he hoped I would approve his mega-million dollar machine to prevent his aligning with doctors Howard and Fine. By the time I finished listening to the messages, most of the mellow mood I had acquired since leaving Austin had vanished. I was tense and angry as I pulled out onto the road for the short trip to Alpine. However, unlike days in the hospital, as I resumed driving I could almost physically feel the concern falling away from me. As I relaxed, I began to lose myself once more in the beauty of the mountains and the music on the radio. The hostile messages soon became a vague memory. Chapter 16 8:00 AM, Friday, October 8, 2004, West Texas 58 I once again passed through clusters of huge volcanic mountains, separated by wide grassy valleys. As I approached Alpine, the mountains became fewer and separated by wider valleys. Some of the mountains were spectacular, however. One such was Mitre Peak, a sharply pointed peak that towered some fifteen hundred feet above the road and resembled the nose cone of a giant rocket sticking out of the earth. Local legend claims that it was named for its resemblance to a bishop’s mitre hat. By ten o’clock I arrived in Alpine, one of the prettiest small towns in Texas. Located along Alpine Creek in the Alpine Valley, it was the northeastern boundary and the county seat of Brewster County, the largest county within the state of Texas. The land was an eclectic display of large, rugged mountains, high plateaus, and broad valleys separated by gently sloping intermountain plains. To the south of Alpine, toward Mexico, the country becomes rugged desert mountains,where temperatures often reached 115 degrees in the summer months. Alpine, however, was located at a higher elevation with a much milder climate. Alpine Valley was at an elevation of 4,484 feet,while some of the peaks surrounding the valley rose to six and seven thousand feet. Alpine Valley creased the mountains from east to west. Directly to the south of the town, facing me as I drove in, was A Mountain. The mountain got its name from rocks arranged into the shape of a fifty-foot “A.”Those stacked rocks were painted white, making the huge “A”visible for miles, and creating an easily identifiable landmark for the town. To the east was a similar mountain, except that the painted rocks on this mountain created the monogram “SR.” This identified Sul Ross State University, the small college built on the...

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