One patient was a puzzle to Paige. She seemed to be in perfect health.
When they had moved away from her, Paige asked, "What's her problem, doctor?"
Dr. Radnor sighed. "She has no problem. She's a gomer. And for those of you who forgot what you were taught in medical school, gomer is an acronym for 'Get out of my emergency room!' Gomers are people who enjoy poor health. That's their hobby. I've admitted her six times in the last year."
They moved on to the last patient, an old woman on a respirator, who was in a coma.
"She's had a massive heart attack," Dr. Radnor explained to the residents. "She's been in a coma for six weeks. Her vital signs are failing. There's nothing more we can do for her. We'll pull the plug this afternoon."
Paige looked at him in shock. "Pull the plug?"
Dr. Radnor said gently, "The hospital ethics committee made the decision this morning. She's a vegetable. She's eighty-seven years old, and she's brain-dead. It's cruel to keep her alive, and it's breaking her family financially. I'll see you all at rounds this afternoon."
They watched him walk away. Paige turned to look at the patient again. She was alive. In a few hours she will be dead. We'll pull the plug this afternoon.
That's murder! Paige thought.
Chapter Three
That afternoon, when the rounds were finished, the new residents gathered in the small upstairs lounge. The room held eight tables, an ancient black-and-white television set, and two vending machines that dispensed stale sandwiches and bitter coffee.
The conversations at each table were almost identical.
One of the residents said, "Take a look at my throat, will you? Does it look raw to you?"
"I think I have a fever. I feel lousy."
"My abdomen is swollen and tender. I know I have appendicitis."
"I've got this crushing pain in my chest. I hope to God I'm not having a heart attack!"
Kat sat down at a table with Paige and Honey. "How did it go?" she asked.
Honey said, "I think it went all right."
They both looked at Paige. "I was tense, but I was relaxed. I was nervous, but I stayed calm." She sighed. "It's been a long day. I'll be glad to get out of here and have some fun tonight."
"Me, too," Kat agreed. "Why don't we have dinner and then go see a movie?''
"Sounds great."
An orderly approached their table. "Dr. Taylor?"
Paige looked up. "I'm Dr. Taylor."
"Dr. Wallace would like to see you in his office."
The hospital administrator! What have I done? Paige wondered.
The orderly was waiting. "Dr. Taylor ..."
"I'm coming." She took a deep breath and got to her feet. "I'll see you later."
"This way, doctor."
Paige followed the orderly into an elevator and rode up to the fifth floor, where Dr. Wallace's office was located.
Benjamin Wallace was seated behind his desk. He glanced up as Paige walked in. "Good afternoon, Dr. Taylor."
"Good afternoon."
Wallace cleared his throat. "Well! Your first day and you've already made quite an impression!"
Paige looked at him, puzzled. "I . . .I don't understand."
"I hear you had a little problem in the doctors' dressing room this morning."
"Oh." So, that's what this is all about. Wallace looked at her and smiled. "I suppose I'll have to make some arrangements for you and the other girls."
"We're ..." We're not girls, Paige started to say. "We would appreciate that."
"Meanwhile, if you don't want to dress with the nurses ..."
"I'm not a nurse," Paige said firmly. "I'm a doctor."
"Of course, of course. Well, we'll do something about accommodations for you, doctor."
"Thank you."
He handed Paige a sheet of paper. "Meanwhile, this is your schedule. You'll be on call for the next twenty-four hours, starting at six o'clock." He looked at his watch. "That's thirty minutes from now."
Paige was looking at him in astonishment. Her day had started at five-thirty that morning. "Twenty-four hours?"
"Well, thirty-six, actually. Because you'll be starting rounds again in the morning."
Thirty-six hours! I wonder if I can handle this.
She was soon to find out.
Paige went to look for Kat and Honey.
"I'm going to have to forget about dinner and a movie," Paige said. "I'm on a thirty-six-hour call."
Kat nodded. "We just got our bad news. I go on it tomorrow, and Honey goes on Wednesday."
"It won't be so bad," Paige said cheerfully. "I understand there's an on-call room to sleep in. I'm going to enjoy this."
She was wrong.
An orderly was leading Paige down a long corridor. "Dr. Wallace told me that I'll be on call for thirty-six hours," Paige said. "Do all the residents work those hours?"
"Only for the first three years," the orderly assured her.
Great!
"But you'll have plenty of chance to rest, doctor."
"I will?"
"In here. This is the on-call room." He opened the door, and Paige stepped inside. The room resembled a monk's cell in some poverty-stricken monastery. It contained nothing but a cot with a lumpy mattress, a cracked wash basin, and a bedside stand with a telephone on it. "You can sleep here between calls."
"Thanks."
The calls began as Paige was in the coffee shop, just starting to have her dinner. "Dr. Taylor . . . ER Three. ... Dr. Taylor . . . ER Three."
"We have a patient with a fractured rib. . . ." "Mr. Henegan is complaining of chest pains. ..." "The patient in Ward Two has a headache. Is it all right to give him an acetaminophen . . .?" At midnight, Paige had just managed to fall asleep