Fortunes of a Bad Dream

About the Book

Eager to escape the Boston Scene and its harsh winters, Dr. Francis Ruiz offered her resume’ to a county hospital in Columbus, Georgia. The area seemed ideal for a single woman in her thirties. She had a sterling reputation and was a gifted orthopedic surgeon. Facts, that landed her a top position in her choice of hospitals. In the southern system, intangible fortunes of love and warm friendships became real. She married John Lincoln Griffin, Jr. The envy of every male and the target of most every single female in Muskogee County. When a son was born, their family unit seemed ordained. However, the tragedy that Dr. Ruiz experienced sent her to recover in a remote clinic. Surviving tales of the tragedy, her successful recovery, and tales of Midas have been plentiful in city cafes around the county. This is the story that sets the legends straight about the good doctor with a physical impairment, who survived the legends and the Griffin family stigma.

About the Author

To accommodate a lifestyle and interest during forty-seven years of marriage, I’ve continued education at Troy University n my home town. With roles of wife, mother of three children and a business owner, I was selective to history courses that were of interest and somewhat correlative to another interest. For a lifetime, I’ve enjoyed the practice of drawing and painting. Many pieces of my art work have been accepted and received awards in regional and local, juried exhibits. The two interests have been compelling reasons to visit other regions frequently. Europe, Mexico, South America, Africa and to the forty-eight states. Writing a novel was not on my itinerary. After being retrained from close art work and travel, because of an eye problem that had to correct itself, it seemed to be the ideal time to re-arrange a studio storage room. It was stuffed with sketch books, paintings, personal journals, local newspaper articles and boxes of snapshots. I was incited to recall another point in a younger life when vision was threatened, plus larks, socials, intervals of life’s dramas, the general cultural scenes of the southern system and some who lived it. Inside the storage room was a genuine relic, a portable typewriter. Passing the point of a year before having normal vision again, I was well into the final drafting of this narration.