OCR Text |
Show Ill men make mistakes." His face pinched in disgust. "There's some money involved - a trust that was to go to the boy's family in the event of his death. The social workers think we let the boy die so that we could collect the money..." His voice croaked with outrage, then rose into the shrillish, diatribing tone I had heard in the angry years after the raids. "They are always trying to accuse us of one evil or another. If they can't persecute us one way. or if it's too much trouble, then they'll find another..." I shifted from one foot to another, wondering if I should have even brought the matter up. Clearly he had been questioned quite enough and didn't appreciate further interrogation, the occasion to defend himself to his own daughter. "You've had trouble with the medical profession for years," I said, trying to soothe him with my voice. "I wonder if they'll ever let up. ' "Not until every naturpath in the nation is gone," he declared, rearranging bottles on a shelf. "Right now they're taking steps to insure that no more naturopathy is licensed in this state." I could tell that he was as much concerned for the fate of his colleagues and their patients as he was for his own. "What do you suppose they object to? With the current interest in natural, healthy habits and the realization that even scientists are limited in their knowledge of the universe, you'd think the medical men would lose some °f their power." He nodded. "That's precisely what they don't like. With the return to natural methods " |