*Post Script*

Surviving A Healthy Childhood

By Kimberly S. Kelley

Men occasionally stumble over the truth, but most pick themselves up and hurry off as if nothing happened. —Winston Churchill

"William D. Kelley, D.D.S." That’s what I put in the space marked "Father" on the hundreds of forms I have had to fill out in my time. In the space marked "Father’s Occupation," I put "Health Researcher." That’s about all the information I volunteer without a darn good reason, though. To my frequent embarrassment, my father has managed to attain a certain degree of fame. Euphemistically, he can be said to be controversial. Those less kindly disposed toward him might use the term "infamous." In any case, I have always found it easier simply to avoid him as a topic of casual conversation.

When we lived in tiny Grapevine, Texas, everyone in town knew of my dad. He was the dentist in the little yellow office on Worth Street who didn’t appear to be practicing dentistry. His patients didn’t come from across town; they flew in from across the country. And the people coming to see him were all so desperately ill; many of them were cancer patients, obviously on their "last legs." Just what was going on in the small office?