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COPYRIGHT 2014

BY J. W. STOKES

Preface

“This is a story about a doctor’s journey from childhood through his last days of life... You will witness him as a family man, a professional and a friend… Dr. Billy W. Rooney is remarkable in the fact that he tells everything as he remembers it. You will become “close” to him in a strange way... At times, you may even cry... The wonderful thing about Dr. Rooney is his love and compassion for his patients. In his final days, he fights to save each one until he can no longer care for them. This is his journal, and I hope you enjoy it… May God have mercy on him and thousands like him who suffer from cancer? I say, “Where is a cure? Will, one day, a compassionate scientist find one…?”

J. W. Stokes

“For My Flock”

My name is Billy Rooney. This is my last chance to tell my story. I am not a storyteller, a story reader nor a storywriter. However, I have studied and continue to study a lot of journals and books to learn... In explaining, who I was and have become will be hard for me. I am not sure where to start or even what words to write. Maybe, when you read this, you can hear a familiar voice narrating for you... Like, Morgan Freeman, or even Kevin Costner... Let us see, I told you my name and my situation, right? Oops, I forgot the "situation.” For me, I do not have many more sunsets. My life is near completion. Not long ago, I became extremely sick with a life debilitating disease. I have fought, but I am tired of the battle. Today, I decided to give up and fight no longer. Maybe, I will stay around long enough to tell my story and take care of my "flock.” Unknowing to them, my family and friends that soon I will be just a memory... Did I mention that I am a doctor? Nope... Well, for twelve years I have "pushed and shoved" my patients to fight for their lives. Moreover, even now, I encourage them not to give in and stare themselves into oblivion. I am a hypocrite in a weird way, but it is my choice. For those I serve and tend to, I will not die until the last one cannot be saved.

I will begin this journey in Brewton, Alabama almost 39 years ago... I was actually born in the old Milton, Florida hospital in July of 1969. I think that hospital is now a mental institution. I was born to Mr. and MRS. Thomas Rooney. My parents were in Milton visiting friends the night I was born. My mother's "water" broke and about an hour later, I arrived into the hands of Dr. John C. Holley. I do not think I can get much more detailed than that... My dad was a paper-mill supervisor for Champion Paper Inc. when I was young. I can remember him always stinking like sulfur when he walked through the door from work. My mom was a teacher at Brewton Elementary. We lived not far from the railroad over by Main Street. Our house was an old Plantation home. My mother still lives there and my dad has long since passed away from cancer years ago... I was his doctor too. A taboo amongst my fellow physicians, but my dad only trusted me; I tried to save him but could not. That was a horrible ordeal to go through. My sickness will stay secret until I am ready...

“Younger Years”

In telling my story, I hope, my flock reads this. This “diary’ is more for them than I. I am not sure if any of them will ever read it. For the ones I have saved and will save. Let us hope I do them justice in telling their story within this book. Before, we “jump face first’ into that part of my life, I need to “travel’ back to 1969... Is not it more appropriate that we start “in the beginning?” Hey, that sounds like the first sentence of the “Holy Bible.” As I wrote earlier, I was born in Milton, FL and my doctor was Dr. Holley. He delivered almost 9,500 babies in his lifetime. According to a U.S. Census that ended in 2012, Milton had a population of 9140 people... I wonder how many of that total he delivered. We shall never know unless they come forward...

Okay, I have established my birth. Now, “we” shall explore what happened next. My years of being a baby are unknown; I cannot remember that if I had to. Now, the toddler years, well, I got nothing on that either. Here we go, my years as a Brewton, AL child. My dad worked at “Champion” most days. I think when I was growing up he may have spoken to me ten or fifteen times. Hell, I thought I was the only kid whose dad never spoke to them. Come to find out, my friends had the same issue with their father. I guess, during those days, men concentrated on work and themselves.

My mother dwelt with his ass every day and he treated her like “shit.” My dad was a drunken fool; he created “Miller Time.” He helped make that damn commercial and slogan, just kidding... How my mother made it to 68, I will never know... One night, my dad threw her across the living room and out the window. She busted her head open and it took 21 stitches to sew her up. I cannot say it was totally my dad’s fault. My mom had been drinking beer with my father. She slapped him in the face and the fight “erupted” from there. My mother drank to fight away depression and anxiety. My dad drank to get drunk. Normally, she never drank anything. However, sometimes, a hell-raising parent would give her an “ass chewing” at school and my mother would come home and drink a 5th of whiskey. Please, do not let me mislead you. My dad loved my mom, and I more than life itself. He did not know how to express his emotions. Therefore, he drank them away or pretended they did not exist. His dad beat him and his brothers with a bullwhip to discipline them. My dad never beat my sister and me. Oh yes, I had a sister. I was her doctor too... Speaking of her life will come, but that will be a “devastating” portion of this journal for me to tell... I am NOT sure that I can write it down for you to read without “leaking” on the keyboard...