H
ospitals are run by nurses. Margaret Spencer, the chief nurse, had worked at Embarcadero County Hospital for twenty years and knew where all the bodies—literally and figuratively—were buried. Nurse Spencer was in charge of the hospital, and doctors who did not recognize it were in trouble. She knew which doctors were on drugs or addicted to alcohol, which doctors were incompetent, and which doctors deserved her support. In her charge were all the student nurses, registered nurses, and operating room nurses. It was Margaret Spencer who decided which of them would be assigned to the various surgeries, and since the nurses ranged from indispensable to incompetent, it paid the doctors to get along with her. She had the power to assign an inept scrub nurse to assist on a complicated kidney removal, or, if she liked the doctor, to send her most competent nurse to help him with a simple tonsillectomy. Among Margaret Spencer’s many prejudices was an antipathy to women doctors and to blacks.
Kat Hunter was a black woman doctor.
Kat was having a hard time. Nothing was overtly said or done, and yet prejudice was at work in ways too subtle to pin down. The nurses she asked for were unavailable, those assigned to her were close to incompetent. Kat found herself frequently being sent to examine male clinic patients with venereal diseases. She accepted the first few cases as routine, but when she was given half a dozen to examine in one day, she became suspicious.
At a lunch break she said to Paige, “Have you examined many men with venereal disease?”
Paige thought for a moment. “One last week. An orderly.”
I’m going to have to do something about this,
Kat thought.
Nurse Spencer had planned to get rid of Dr. Hunter by making her life so miserable that she would be forced to quit, but she had not counted on Kat’s dedication or her ability. Little by little, Kat was winning over the people she worked with. She had a natural skill that impressed her fellow workers as well as her patients. But the real breakthrough happened because of what came to be known around the hospital as the famous pig blood caper.
On morning rounds one day, Kat was working with a senior resident named Dundas. They were at the bedside of a patient who was unconscious.
“Mr. Levy was in an automobile accident,” Dundas informed the younger residents. “He’s lost a great deal of blood, and he needs an immediate transfusion. The hospital is short of blood right now. This man has a family, and
they refuse to donate any blood to him. It’s infuriating.”
Kat asked, “Where is his family?”
“In the visitors’ waiting room,” Dr. Dundas said.
“Do you mind if I talk to them?” Kat asked.
“It won’t do any good. I’ve already spoken to them. They’ve made up their minds.”
When the rounds were over, Kat went into the visitors’ waiting room. The man’s wife and grown son and daughter were there. The son wore a yarmulke and ritual tallis.
“Mrs. Levy?” Kat asked the woman.
She stood up. “How is my husband? Is the doctor going to operate?”
“Yes,” Kat said.
“Well, don’t ask us to give any of our blood. It’s much too dangerous these days, with AIDS and all.”
“Mrs. Levy,” Kat said, “you can’t get AIDS by donating blood. It’s not poss—”
“Don’t tell me! I read the papers. I know what’s what.”
Kat studied her a moment. “I can see that. Well, it’s all right, Mrs. Levy. The hospital is short of blood right now, but we’ve solved the problem.”
“Good.”
“We’re going to give your husband pig’s blood.”
The mother and son were staring at Kat, shocked.
“
What?
”
“Pig’s blood,” Kat said cheerfully. “It probably won’t do him any harm.” She turned to leave.
“Wait a minute!” Mrs. Levy cried.
Kat stopped. “Yes?”
“I, uh…just give us a minute, will you?”
“Certainly.”
Fifteen minutes later, Kat went up to Dr. Dundas.
“You don’t have to worry about Mr. Levy’s family anymore. They’re all happy to make a blood donation.”
The story became an instant legend around the hospital. Doctors and nurses who had ignored Kat before made a point of speaking to her.
A few days later, Kat went into the private room of Tom Leonard, an ulcer patient. He was eating an enormous lunch that he had had brought in from a nearby delicatessen.
Kat walked up to his bed. “What are you doing?”
He looked up and smiled. “Having a decent lunch for a change. Want to join me? There’s plenty here.”
Kat rang for a nurse.
“Yes, doctor?”
“Get this food out of here. Mr. Leonard is on a strict hospital diet. Didn’t you read his chart?”
“Yes, but he insisted on—”
“Remove it, please.”
“Hey! Wait a minute!” Leonard protested. “I can’t eat the pap this hospital is giving me!”
“You’ll eat it if you want to get rid of your ulcer.” Kat looked at the nurse. “Take it out.”
Thirty minutes later, Kat was summoned to the office of the administrator.
“You wanted to see me, Dr. Wallace?”
“Yes. Sit down. Tom Leonard is one of your patients, isn’t he?”
“That’s right. I found him eating a hot pastrami sandwich with pickles and potato salad for lunch today, full of spices and—”
“And you took it away from him.”
“Of course.”
Wallace leaned forward in his chair. “Doctor, you probably were not aware that Tom Leonard is on the hospital’s supervisory board. We want to keep him happy. Do you get my meaning?”
Kat looked at him and said stubbornly, “No, sir.”
He blinked. “What?”
“It seems to me that the way to keep Tom Leonard happy is to get him healthy. He’s not going to be cured if he tears his stomach apart.”
Benjamin Wallace forced a smile. “Why don’t we let him make that decision?”
Kat stood up. “Because
I’m
his doctor. Is there anything else?”
“I…er…no. That’s all.”
Kat walked out of the office.
Benjamin Wallace sat there stunned.
Women doctors!
Kat was on night duty when she received a call. “Dr. Hunter, I think you had better come up to 320.”
“Right away.”
The patient in Room 320 was Mrs. Molloy, a cancer patient in her eighties, with a poor prognosis. As Kat neared the door she heard voices inside, raised in argument. Kat stepped inside the room.
Mrs. Molloy was in bed, heavily sedated, but conscious. Her son and two daughters were in the room.
The son was saying, “I say we split the estate up three ways.”
“No!” one of the daughters said. “Laurie and I are the ones who have been taking care of Mama. Who’s been doing the cooking and cleaning for her? We have! Well, we’re entitled to her money and—”
“I’m as much her flesh and blood as you are!” the man yelled.
Mrs. Molloy lay in bed, helpless, listening.
Kat was furious. “Excuse me,” she said.
One of the women glanced at her. “Come back later, nurse. We’re busy.”
Kat said angrily, “This is my patient. I’m giving you all ten seconds to get out of this room. You can wait in the visitors’ waiting room. Now get out before I call security and have you thrown out.”
The man started to say something, but the look in Kat’s eyes stopped him. He turned to his sisters and shrugged. “We can talk outside.”
Kat watched the three of them leave the room. She turned to Mrs. Molloy in bed and stroked her head. “They didn’t mean anything by it,” Kat said softly. She sat at the bedside, holding the old woman’s hand, and watched her drop off to sleep.
We’re all dying,
Kat thought.
Forget what Dylan Thomas said. The real trick is to go gentle into that good night.
Kat was in the middle of treating a patient when an orderly came into the ward. “There’s an urgent call for you at the desk, doctor.”
Kat frowned. “Thank you.” She turned to the patient, who was in a full body cast, with his legs suspended on a pulley. “I’ll be right back.”
In the corridor, at the nurses’ station, Kat picked up the desk telephone. “Hello?”
“Hi, sis.”
“Mike!” She was excited to hear from him, but her excitement immediately turned to concern. “Mike, I told
you never to call me here. You have the number at the apartment if—”
“Hey, I’m sorry. This couldn’t wait. I have a little problem.”
Kat knew what was coming.
“I borrowed some money from a fellow to invest in a business…”
Kat didn’t bother asking what kind of business. “And it failed.”
“Yeah. And now he wants his money.”
“How much, Mike?”
“Well, if you could send five thousand…”
“
What?
”
The desk nurse was looking at Kat curiously.
Five thousand dollars.
Kat lowered her voice. “I don’t have that much. I…I can send you half now and the rest in a few weeks. Will that be all right?”
“I guess so. I hate to bother you, sis, but you know how it is.”
Kat knew exactly how it was. Her brother was twenty-two years old and was always involved in mysterious deals. He ran with gangs, and God only knew what they were up to, but Kat felt a deep responsibility toward him.
It’s all my fault,
Kat thought.
If I hadn’t run away from home and deserted him
…“Stay out of trouble, Mike. I love you.”
“I love you, too, Kat.”
I’ll have to get him that money, somehow,
Kat thought.
Mike’s all I have in the world.
Dr. Isler had been looking forward to working with Honey Taft again. He had forgiven her inept performance
and, in fact, was flattered that she was in such awe of him. But now, on rounds with her once more, Honey stayed behind the other residents and never volunteered an answer to his questions.
Thirty minutes after rounds, Dr. Isler was seated in Benjamin Wallace’s office.
“What’s the problem?” Wallace asked.
“It’s Dr. Taft.”
Wallace looked at him in genuine surprise. “Dr. Taft? She has the best recommendations I’ve ever seen.”
“That’s what puzzles me,” Dr. Isler said. “I’ve been getting reports from some of the other residents. She’s misdiagnosing cases and making serious mistakes. I’d like to know what the hell is going on.”
“I don’t understand. She went to a fine medical school.”
“Maybe you should give the dean of the school a call,” Dr. Isler suggested.
“That’s Jim Pearson. He’s a good man. I’ll call him.”
A few minutes later, Wallace had Jim Pearson on the telephone. They exchanged pleasantries, and then Wallace said, “I’m calling about Betty Lou Taft.”
There was a brief silence. “Yes?”
“We seem to be having a few problems with her, Jim. She was admitted here with your wonderful recommendation.”
“Right.”
“In fact, I have your report in front of me. It says she was one of the brightest students you ever had.”
“That’s right.”
“And that she was going to be a credit to the medical profession.”
“Yes.”
“Was there any doubt about…?”
“None,” Dr. Pearson said firmly. “None at all. She’s probably a little nervous. She’s high-strung, but if you just give her a chance, I’m sure she’ll be fine.”
“Well, I appreciate your telling me. We’ll certainly give her every chance. Thank you.”
“Not at all.” The line went dead.
Jim Pearson sat there, hating himself for what he had done.
But my wife and children come first.
H
oney Taft had the bad fortune to have been born into a family of overachievers. Her handsome father was the founder and president of a large computer company in Memphis, Tennessee, her lovely mother was a genetic scientist, and Honey’s older twin sisters were as attractive, as brainy, and as ambitious as their parents. The Tafts were among the most prominent families in Memphis.
Honey had inconveniently come along when her sisters were six years old.
“Honey was our little accident,” her mother would tell their friends. “I wanted to have an abortion, but Fred was against it. Now he’s sorry.”
Where Honey’s sisters were stunning, Honey was plain. Where they were brilliant, Honey was average. Her sisters had started talking at nine months. Honey had not uttered a word until she was almost two.
“We call her ‘the dummy,’” her father would laugh. “Honey is the ugly duckling of the Taft family. Only I don’t think she’s going to turn into a swan.”
It was not that Honey was ugly, but neither was she pretty. She was ordinary-looking, with a thin, pinched face, mousy blond hair, and an unenviable figure. What Honey
did
have was an extraordinarily sweet, sunny disposition, a quality not particularly prized in a family of competitive overachievers.
From the earliest time Honey could remember, her greatest desire was to please her parents and sisters and make them love her. It was a futile effort. Her parents were busy with their careers, and her sisters were busy winning beauty contests and scholarships. To add to Honey’s misery, she was inordinately shy. Consciously or unconsciously, her family had implanted in her a feeling of deep inferiority.
In high school, Honey was known as the Wallflower. She attended school dances and parties by herself, and smiled and tried not to show how miserable she was, because she did not want to spoil anyone’s fun. She would watch her sisters picked up at the house by the most popular boys at school, and then she would go up to her lonely room to struggle with her homework.
And try not to cry.
On weekends and during the summer holidays, Honey made pocket money by baby-sitting. She loved taking care of children, and the children adored her.
When Honey was not working, she would go off and explore Memphis by herself. She visited Graceland, where Elvis Presley had lived, and walked down Beale Street, where the blues started. She wandered through the Pink Palace Museum, and the Planetarium, with its roaring, stomping dinosaur. She went to the aquarium.
And Honey was always alone.
She was unaware that her life was about to change drastically.
Honey knew that many of her classmates were having love affairs. They discussed it constantly at school.
“Have you gone to bed with Ricky yet? He’s the best…!”
“Joe is really into orgasms…”
“I was out with Tony last night. I’m exhausted. What an animal! I’m seeing him again tonight…”
Honey stood there listening to their conversations, and she was filled with a bittersweet envy, and a feeling that she would never know what sex was like.
Who would want me?
Honey wondered.
One Friday night, there was a school prom. Honey had no intention of going, but her father said, “You know, I’m concerned. Your sisters tell me that you’re a wall-flower, and that you’re not going to the prom because you can’t get a date.”
Honey blushed. “That’s not true,” she said. “I do have a date, and I
am
going.”
Don’t let him ask who my date is
, Honey prayed.
He didn’t.
Now Honey found herself at the prom, seated in her usual corner, watching the others dancing and having a wonderful time.
And that was when the miracle occurred.
Roger Merton, the captain of the football team and the most popular boy at school, was on the dance floor, having a fight with his girlfriend. He had been drinking.
“You’re a no-good, selfish bastard!” she said.
“And you’re a dumb bitch!”
“You can go screw yourself.”
“I don’t have to screw myself, Sally. I can screw somebody else. Anyone I want to.”
“Go ahead!” She stormed off the dance floor.
Honey could not help but overhear.
Merton saw her looking at him. “What the hell are you staring at?” He was slurring his words.
“Nothing,” Honey said.
“I’ll show the bitch! You think I won’t show her?”
“I…yes.”
“Damn right. Let’s have a li’l drink.”
Honey hesitated. Merton was obviously drunk. “Well, I don’t…”
“Great. I have a bottle in the car.”
“I really don’t think I…”
And he had Honey’s arm and was steering her out of the room. She went along because she did not want to make a scene and embarrass him.
Outside, Honey tried to pull away. “Roger, I don’t think this is a good idea. I…”
“What the hell are you—chicken?”
“No, I…”
“Okay, then. Come on.”
He led her to his car and opened the door. Honey stood there a moment.
“Get in.”
“I can only stay a moment,” Honey said.
She got in the car because she did not want to upset Roger. He climbed in beside her.
“We’re going to show that dumb broad, aren’t we?” He held out a bottle of bourbon. “Here.”
Honey had had only one drink of alcohol before and she had hated it. But she did not want to hurt Roger’s
feelings. She looked at him and reluctantly took a small sip.
“You’re okay,” he said. “You’re new at school, huh?”
Honey was in three of his classes. “No,” Honey said. I…”
He leaned over and began to play with her breasts.
Startled, Honey pulled away.
“Hey! Come on. Don’t you want to please me?” he said.
And that was the magic phrase. Honey wanted to please everybody, and if this was the way to do it…
In the uncomfortable backseat of Merton’s car, Honey had sex for the first time, and it opened an incredible new world to her. She did not particularly enjoy the sex, but that was not important. The important thing was that Merton enjoyed it. In fact, Honey was amazed by how
much
he enjoyed it. It seemed to make him ecstatic. She had never seen anyone enjoy anything so much.
So this is how to please a man
, Honey thought.
It was an epiphany.
Honey was unable to get the miracle of what had occurred out of her mind. She lay in bed, remembering Merton’s hard maleness inside her, thrusting faster and faster, and then his moans, “Oh, yes, yes…Jesus, you’re fantastic, Sally…”
And Honey had not even minded that. She had pleased the captain of the football team! The most popular boy in school!
And I really didn’t even know what I was doing
, Honey thought.
If I truly learned how to please a man…
And that was when Honey had her second epiphany.
The following morning, Honey went to the Pleasure Chest, a porno bookstore on Poplar Street, and bought half a dozen books on eroticism. She smuggled them home and read them in the privacy of her room. She was astounded by what she was reading.
She raced through the pages of
The Perfumed Garden
and the
Kama Sutra
, the
Tibetan Arts of Love
, the
Alchemy of Ecstasy
, and then went back for more. She read the words of Gedun Chopel and the arcane accounts by Kanchinatha.
She studied the exciting photographs of the thirty-seven positions of lovemaking, and she learned the meaning of the Half Moon and the Circle, the Lotus Petal, and the Pieces of Cloud, and the way of churning.
Honey became an expert on the eight types of oral sex, and the paths of the sixteen pleasures, and the ecstasy of the string of marbles. She knew how to teach a man to perform
karuna
, to intensify his pleasure. In theory, at least.
Honey felt she was now ready to put her knowledge into practice.
The
Kama Sutra
had several chapters on aphrodisiacs to arouse a man, but since Honey had no idea where she could obtain
Hedysarum gangeticum
, the
kshirika
plant, or the
Xanthochymus pictorius
, she figured out her own substitutes.
When Honey saw Roger Merton in class the following week, she walked up to him and said, “I really enjoyed the other night. Can we do it again?”
It took him a moment to remember who Honey was. “Oh. Sure. Why not? My folks are out tonight. Why don’t you come by about eight o’clock?”
When Honey arrived at Merton’s house that night, she had a small jar of maple syrup with her.
“What’s that for?” Merton asked.
“I’m going to show you,” Honey said.
She showed him.
The next day, Merton was telling his buddies at school about Honey.
“She’s incredible,” he said. “You wouldn’t believe what she can do with a little warm syrup!”
That afternoon, half a dozen boys were asking Honey for dates. From that time on, she started going out every night. The boys were very happy, and that made Honey very happy.
Honey’s parents were delighted by their daughter’s sudden popularity.
“It took our girl a little while to bloom,” her father said proudly, “but now she’s turned into a real Taft!”
Honey had always had poor grades in mathematics, and she knew she had failed badly on her final test. Her mathematics teacher, Mr. Janson, was a bachelor and lived near the school. Honey paid him a visit one evening. He opened the door and looked at her in surprise.
“Honey! What are you doing here?”
“I need your help,” Honey said. “My father will kill me if I fail your course. I brought some math problems, and I wonder if you would mind going over them with me.”
He hesitated a moment. “This is unusual, but…very well.”
Mr. Janson liked Honey. She was not like the other girls in his class. They were raucous and indifferent, while Honey was sensitive and caring, always eager to
please. He wished that she had more of an aptitude for mathematics.
Mr. Janson sat next to Honey on the couch and began to explain the arcane intricacies of logarithms.
Honey was not interested in logarithms. As Mr. Janson talked, Honey moved closer and closer to him. She started breathing on his neck and into his ear, and before he knew what was happening, Mr. Janson found that his pants were unzipped.
He was looking at Honey in astonishment. “What are you doing?”
“I’ve wanted you since the first time I saw you,” Honey said. She opened her purse and took out a small can of whipped cream.
“What’s that?”
“Let me show you…”
Honey received an A in math.
It was not only the accessories Honey used that made her so popular. It was the knowledge she had gleaned from all the ancient books on erotica she had read. She delighted her partners with techniques they had never even dreamed of, that were thousands of years old, and long forgotten. She brought a new meaning to the word “ecstasy.”
Honey’s grades improved dramatically, and she was suddenly even more popular than her sisters had been in their high school days. Honey was dined at the Private Eye and the Bombay Bicycle Club, and taken to the Ice Capades at the Memphis Mall. The boys took her skiing at Cedar Cliff and sky diving at Landis Airport.
Honey’s years at college were just as successful socially. At dinner one evening, her father said, “You’ll be
graduating soon. It’s time to think about your future. Do you know what you want to do with your life?”
She answered immediately. “I want to be a nurse.”
Her father’s face reddened. “You mean a doctor.”
“No, Father. I…”
“You’re a Taft. If you want to go into medicine, you’ll be a doctor. Is that understood?”
“Yes, Father.”
Honey had meant it when she told her father she wanted to be a nurse. She loved taking care of people, helping them and nurturing them. She was terrified by the idea of becoming a doctor, and being responsible for people’s lives. But she knew that she must not disappoint her father.
You’re a Taft.
Honey’s college grades were not good enough to get her into medical school, but her father’s influence was. He was a heavy contributor to a medical school in Knoxville, Tennessee. He met with Dr. Jim Pearson, the dean.
“You’re asking for a big favor,” Pearson said, “but I’ll tell you what I’ll do. I’ll admit Honey on a probationary basis. If at the end of six months we feel she’s not qualified to continue, we’ll have to let her go.”
“Fair enough. She’s going to surprise you.”
He was right.
Honey’s father had made arrangements for her to stay in Knoxville with a cousin of his, the Reverend Douglas Lipton.
Douglas Lipton was the minister of the Baptist Church. He was in his sixties, married to a woman ten years older.
The minister was delighted to have Honey in the house.
“She’s like a breath of fresh air,” he told his wife.
He had never seen anyone so eager to please.
Honey did fairly well in medical school, but she lacked dedication. She was there only to please her father.
Honey’s teachers liked her. There was a genuine niceness about her that made her professors want her to succeed.
Ironically, she was particularly weak in anatomy. During the eighth week, her anatomy teacher sent for her. “I’m afraid I’m going to have to fail you,” he said unhappily.
I can’t fail
, Honey thought.
I can’t let my father down. What would Boccaccio have advised?
Honey moved closer to the professor. “I came to this school because of you. I had heard so much about you.” She moved closer to him. “I want to be like you.” And closer. “Being a doctor means everything to me.” And closer. “Please help me…”
One hour later, when Honey left his office, she had the answers to the next examination.
Before Honey was finished with medical school, she had seduced several of her professors. There was a help-lessness about her that they were unable to resist. They were all under the impression that it was
they
who were seducing
her
, and they felt guilty about taking advantage of her innocence.
Dr. Jim Pearson was the last to succumb to Honey.
He was intrigued by all the reports he had heard about her. There were rumors of her extraordinary sexual skills. He sent for Honey one day to discuss her grades. She brought a small box of powdered sugar with her, and before the afternoon was over, Dr. Pearson was as hooked as all the others. Honey made him feel young and insatiable. She made him feel that he was a king who had subjugated her and made her his slave.