A Joint Effort: A Doctor and His Community
BY SCOTT REBER

Originally published in Coulee Region Men, March/April 2005.
http://www.couleeregionmen.com/
Reprinted with permission.

BY SCOTT REBER

He graduated magna cum laude—from Harvard. He earned his M.D. at Northwestern University Medical School. He completed his residency in orthopedic surgery at Loyola University Medical Center. And, so, we might assume, he is practicing medicine today at a celebrated healthcare facility in a major metropolitan area.

And we would be wrong, for this fine physician is now working in a small, rural town in the Coulee Region.

I am sitting in the office of Jeffrey Lawrence, an orthopedic surgeon at Vernon Memorial Healthcare, in Viroqua. While the doctor stands in the adjacent room consulting on the telephone with a patient, I absorb the surroundings. Hanging on a wall is a series of prints made from the anatomical sketches of Leonardo da Vinci. One drawing is titled: “The Muscles of the Neck and Shoulders.” Standing beside me is a life-size human skeleton sporting a baseball cap, the logo reading “Harvard Orthopedics.” Framed photographs of the doctor’s wife and two boys crowd the desk.

“Sorry to keep you waiting,” says the doctor, sauntering into the room.

At 44, Lawrence evokes the impression of youthful vitality. He carries his 205 pounds with the broad-shouldered athleticism that made him a center on the Harvard varsity football team. A man of disarming gentleness, he speaks softly, choosing his words with precision. The first question I ask, as he settles into his chair, is this: What is it about the rural, Midwestern lifestyle that appeals to you? That is, what brought you here?

The answer to this query, or at least the gist of it, lies in what the doctor left behind when he chose to come here. He was living and working in Highland Park, 111., an upscale suburb of Chicago. A place, according to the doctor, of conspicuous wealth, demanding patients, overcrowded and highly competitive schools, and a Mercedes-and-truffle-oil atmosphere that left him feeling “hollow and dissatisfied.” In fact, Lawrence’s wife, Angle, when taking the children to a public playground, would seldom find young mothers with whom to socialize. Most of the children were cared for by nannies and an pairs, some of whom spoke no English.

You’re moving where?
“ Viroqua,” said the doctor to his friends and colleagues. “No one had heard of it, and before I drove up for the interview, I hadn’t either.” But, it wasn’t on a whim that Lawrence left familiar urban territory for small-town life. He says it was the attraction of small schools where children can more easily explore their interests and be assured of a spot in the band or a place on the baseball team. It was the lure of the rolling hills and deep valleys clothed in February snow and the promise of a brisk walk in the woods every day. It was the warmth and friendliness of the people opening their homes and their hearts to newcomers. In short, it was Viroqua that brought him here. And, Lawrence assures me, “It has far exceeded my expectations.”

The feeling is mutual. To illustrate what the citizens of Viroqua think of Lawrence, we have the telling example of Thanksgiving Day 2000, when a fire left the Lawrence family home uninhabitable. The outpouring of support and goodwill from the community overwhelms Lawrence even today. “Over 50 people came out [to our house] and helped us sift through the ashes. We had donations from churches. People brought lasagna. Offered us places to stay. Some of my patients opened their wallets and handed me $100 bills,” Recalling the many acts of kindness, the doctor breaks off, his eyes moistening. He pauses and then says softly, “I feel very fortunate to serve this community.”

Moments later, the doctor and I are in a locker room, suiting up in scrubs. After donning a cap and booties, we pad across the antiseptically dean floor of the Operating Unit and through the faint odor of alcohol, into the recently built, state-of-the-art surgical theater. I pause to take it in. Have I stumbled across an abandoned set from the Stanley Rubric film, 2001: A Space Odyssey.

A six-foot-tall cabinet holds a bank of sophisticated computers. Suspended above the brightly lit operating table, ii live-stream video camera feeds one of two flat- screen monitors. Patients, the doctor informs me, may now, if they choose, lie back and watch, say, the damaged cartilage being cleaned from their knee while medical students in, say, I-os Angeles, tune in to watch Lawrence perform his craft and deliver a play-by-play on the delicate operation. Another screen above the table allows Lawrence to monitor the view from an arthroscopic camera as it probes the labyrinthine chambers of an elbow joint, or to check on an X-ray taken earlier, it can even consult in real-time with a colleague watching the procedure from thousands of miles away.

“ Hello, Doctor.” I hear this plummy voice and look around for the woman who greeted us. There is no one. I look at the screens. No one. The computer is talking to us—I am in a Kubric film! “Hello, Sidne,” says the doctor into his headset.

"Spotlight on.” The operating table is suddenly illuminated.

“Screen on.” The monitor flashes blue.

“Doctor needs compliment!” Sidne dutifully replies, “Good job. Doctor.” And a good job it is indeed.

Looking up through the window of the operating room I note the boom of a crane. Lawrence’s arrival at Vernon Memorial Hospital inspired a flurry of remodeling and helped lay the foundation for an expansion in the shape of the three-story Medical Office Building going up next door. With the future of healthcare in mind, the community had the foresight and, some would say, the good fortune, to recruit and support a physician of Lawrence’s skills and dedication. As his reputation spread, patients arrived from as far away as New York and Arizona. With some amazement, he tells me about a patient who drove her Winnebago all the way from Oregon so she would have a place to stay while recovering from hip surgery. Another patient heard about Lawrence while vacationing in Mexico. As she struggled up a flight of stairs, a stranger offered some helpful advice: “Ya know, you ought to have Dr. Lawrence replace that hip.” The doctor smiles, “I’d like to know who gave me that referral.”

Though patients come from across the nation to receive treatment provided by Lawrence at Memorial Healthcare, it is the folks of Vernon County who benefit most from the joint efforts of this doctor and his supportive community.

An instructor of written communications at Western Wisconsin Technical College, Scott Reber is also a freelance writer and part-time technical trainer.