their hut …
Honey lay in bed thinking, This is sure a long way from Memphis, Tennessee, Betty Lou. I guess I can never go back there. Never again. She could hear the sheriffs voice saying to her, “Out of respect for his family, we’re going to list the death of the Reverend Douglas Lipton as a ‘suicide for reasons unknown,’ but I would suggest that you get the fuck out of this town fast, and stay out …”
Kat was staring out the window of her bedroom, listening to the sounds of the city. She could hear the raindrops whispering, You made it … you made it … I showed them all they were wrong. You want to be a doctor? A black woman doctor? And the rejections from medical schools. “Thank you for sending us your application. Unfortunately our enrollment is complete at this time.”
“In view of your background, perhaps we might suggest that you would be happier at a smaller university.”
She had top grades, but out of twenty-five schools she had applied to, only one had accepted her. The dean of the school had said, “In these days, it’s nice to see someone who comes from a normal, decent background.”
If he had only known the terrible truth.
At five-thirty the following morning, when the new residents checked in, members of the hospital staff were standing by to guide them to their various assignments. Even at that early hour, the bedlam had begun.
The patients had been coming in all night, arriving in ambulances, and police cars, and on foot. The staff called them the “F and J’s”—the flotsam and jetsam that streamed into the emergency rooms, broken and bleeding, victims of shootings and stabbings and automobile accidents, the wounded in flesh and spirit, the homeless and the unwanted, the ebb and flow of humanity that streamed through the dark sewers of every large city.
There was a pervasive feeling of organized chaos, frenetic movements and shrill sounds and dozens of unexpected crises that all had to be attended to at once.
The new residents stood in a protective huddle, getting attuned to their new environment, listening to the arcane sounds around them.
Paige, Kat, and Honey were waiting in the corridor when a senior resident approached them. “Which one of you is Dr. Taft?”
Honey looked up and said, “I am.”
The resident smiled and held out his hand. “It’s an honor to meet you. I’ve been asked to look out for you. Our chief of staff says that you have the highest medical school grades this hospital has ever seen. We’re delighted to have you here.”
Honey smiled, embarrassed. “Thank you.”
Kat and Paige looked at Honey in astonishment. I wouldn’t have guessed she was that brilliant, Paige thought.
“You’re planning to go into internal medicine, Dr. Taft?”
“Yes.”
The resident turned to Kat. “Dr. Hunter?”
“Yes.”
“You’re interested in neurosurgery.”
“I am.”
He consulted a list. “You’ll be assigned to Dr. Lewis.”
The resident looked over at Paige. “Dr. Taylor?”
“Yes.”
“You’re going into cardiac surgery.”
“That’s right.”
“Fine. We’ll assign you and Dr. Hunter to surgical rounds. You can report to the head nurse’s office. Margaret Spencer. Down the hall.”
“Thank you.”
Paige looked at the others and took a deep breath. “Here I go! I wish us all luck!”
The head nurse, Margaret Spencer, was more a battleship than a woman, heavyset and stern-looking, with a brusque manner. She was busy behind the nurses’ station when Paige approached.
“Excuse me …”
Nurse Spencer looked up. “Yes?”
“I was told to report here. I’m Dr. Taylor.”
Nurse Spencer consulted a sheet. “Just a moment.” She walked through a door and returned a minute later with some scrubs and white coats.
“Here you are. The scrubs are to wear in the operating theater and on rounds. When you’re doing rounds, you put a white coat over the scrubs.”
“Thanks.”
“Oh. And here.” She reached down and handed Paige a metal tag that read “Paige Taylor, M.D.” “Here’s your name tag, doctor.”
Paige held it in her hand and looked at it for a long time. Paige Taylor, M.D. She felt as though she had been handed the Medal of Honor. All the long hard years of work and study were summed up in those brief words. Paige Taylor, M.D.
Nurse Spencer was watching her. “Are you all right?”
“I’m fine.” Paige smiled. “I’m just fine, thank you. Where do I …?”
“Doctors’ dressing room is down the corridor to the left. You’ll be making rounds, so you’ll want to change.”
“Thank you.”
Paige walked down the corridor, amazed at the amount of activity around her. The corridor was crowded with doctors, nurses, technicians, and patients, hurrying to various destinations. The insistent chatter of the public address system added to the din.
“Dr. Keenan … OR Three …. Dr. Keenan … OR Three.”
“Dr. Talbot … Emergency Room One. Stat … Dr. Talbot … Emergency Room One. Stat.”
“Dr. Engel … Room 212 …. Dr. Engel … Room 212.”
Paige approached a door marked DOCTORS’ DRESSING ROOM and opened it. Inside there were a dozen doctors in various stages of undress. Two of them were totally naked. They turned to stare at Paige as the door opened.
“Oh! I … I’m sorry,” Paige mumbled, and quickly closed the door. She stood there, uncertain about what to do. A few feet down the corridor, she saw a door marked NURSES’ DRESSING ROOM. Paige walked over to it and opened the door. Inside, several nurses were changing into their uniforms.
One of them looked up. “Hello. Are you one of the new nurses?”
“No,” Paige said tightly. “I’m not.” She closed the door and walked back to the doctors’ dressing room. She stood there a moment, then took a deep breath and entered. The conversation came to a stop.
One of the men said, “Sorry, honey. This room is for doctors.”
“I’m a doctor,” Paige said.
They turned to look at one another. “Oh? Well, er … welcome.”
“Thank you.” She hesitated a moment, then walked over to an empty locker. The men watched as she put her hospital clothes into the locker. She looked at the men for a moment, then slowly started to unbutton her blouse.
The doctors stood there, not sure what to do. One of them said, “Maybe we should—er—give the little lady some privacy, gentlemen.”
The little lady! “Thank you,” Paige said. She stood there, waiting, as the doctors finished dressing and left the room. Am I going to have to go through this every day? she wondered.
In hospital rounds, there is a traditional formation that never varies. The attending physician is always in the lead, followed by the senior resident,