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?”