Sidney Sheldon - Nothing lasts forever

Kat was in the emergency ward when Dinetto, the Shadow, and Rhino walked in. Rhino was bleeding heavily.

Dinetto called out to Kat, “Hey, you!”

Kat looked up. “Are you talking to me?”

“Who the hell do you think I'm talking to? This man is bleeding. Get him fixed up right away.”

“There are half a dozen others ahead of him,” Kat said quietly. “He'll have to wait his turn.”

“He's not waiting for anything,” Dinetto told her. “You'll take care of him now.”

Kat stepped over to Rhino and examined him. She took a piece of cotton and pressed it against the cut. “Hold it there. I'll be back.”

“I said to take care of him now,” Dinetto snapped.

Kat turned to Dinetto. “This is an emergency hospital ward. I'm the doctor in charge. So either keep quiet or get out.”

The Shadow said, “Lady, you don't know who you're talking to. You better do what the man says. This is Mr. Lou Dinetto.”

“Now that the introductions are over,” Dinetto said impatiently, “take care of my man.”

“You have a hearing problem,” Kat said. “I'll tell vou once more. Keep quiet or get out of here. I have work to do.”

Rhino said, “You can't talk to—”

Dinetto turned to him. “Shut up!” He looked at again, and his tone changed. “I would appreciate it if you could get to him as soon as possible.”

“I'll do my best.” Kat sat Rhino down on a cot. “Lie down. I'll be back in a few minutes.” She looked at Dinetto. “There are some chairs over there in the corner.”

Dinetto and the Shadow watched her walk to the other end of the ward to take care of the waiting patients.

“Jesus,” the Shadow said. “She has no idea who you are.”

“I don't think it would make any difference. She's got balls.”

Fifteen minutes later, Kat returned to Rhino and examined him. “No concussion,” she announced. “You're lucky. That's a nasty cut.”

Dinetto stood watching as Kat skillfully put stitches in Rhino's forehead.

When Kat was finished, she said, “That should heal nicely. Come back in five days, and I'll take out the stitches.”

Dinetto walked over and examined Rhino's forehead. “That's a damn good job.”

“Thanks,” Kat said. “Now, if you'll excuse me …”

“Wait a minute,” Dinetto called. He turned to the Shadow. “Give her a C-note.”

The Shadow took a hundred-dollar bill out of his pocket. “Here.”

“The cashier's office is outside.”

“This isn't for the hospital. It's for you.”

“No, thanks.”

Dinetto stared as Kat walked away and began working on another patient.

The Shadow said, “Maybe it wasn't enough, boss.”

Dinetto shook his head. “She's an independent broad. I like that.” He was silent for a moment. “Doc Evans is retiring, right?”

“Yeah.”

“Okay. I want you to find out everything you can about this doctor.” “What for?” “Leverage. I think she might come in very handy.”

Hospitals 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.”