uring the next few months, Paige saw very little of Kat and Honey. They would have a hurried breakfast in the cafeteria and occasionally pass one another in the corridors. They communicated mainly by leaving notes in the apartment.

"Dinner is in the fridge."

"The microwave is out."

"Sorry, I didn't have time to clean up."

"What about the three of us having dinner out Satur¬day night?''

The impossible hours continued to be a punishment, testing the limits of endurance for all the residents.

Paige welcomed the pressure. It gave her no time to think about Alfred and the wonderful future they had planned together. And yet, she could not get him out of her mind. What he had done filled her with a deep pain that refused to go away. She tortured herself with the futile game of "what if?"

What if I had stayed with Alfred in Africa? What if he had come to Chicago with me? What if he had not met Karen? What if...?

On a Friday when Paige went into the change room to put on her scrubs, the word "bitch" had been written on them with a black marker pen.

The following day when Paige went to look for her scut book, it was gone. All her notes had disappeared. Maybe I misplaced it, Paige thought

But she couldn't make herself believe it.

The world outside the hospital ceased to exist. Paige was aware that Iraq was pillaging Kuwait, but that was overshadowed by the needs of a fifteen-year-old patient who was dying of leukemia. The day East and West Germany became united, Paige was busy trying to save the life of a diabetic patient. Margaret Thatcher resigned as prime minister of England, but more important, the patient in 214 was able to walk again.

What made it bearable was the doctors Paige worked with. With few exceptions, they had dedicated them¬selves to healing others, relieving pain, and saving lives. Paige watched the miracles they performed every day, and it filled her with a sense of pride.

The greatest stress was working in the ER. The emer¬gency room was constantly overcrowded with people suffering every form of trauma imaginable.

The long hours at the hospital and the pressures placed an enormous strain on the doctors and nurses who worked there. The divorce rate among the doctors was extraordinarily high, and extramarital affairs were com¬mon.

Tom Chang was one of those having a problem. He told Paige about it over coffee.

"I can handle the hours," Chang confided, "but my wife can't. She complains that she never sees me any¬more and that I'm a stranger to our little girl. She's right. I don't know what to do about it."

"Has your wife visited the hospital?"

"No."

"Why don't you invite her here for lunch, Tom? Let her see what you're doing here and how important it is."

Chang brightened. "That's a good idea. Thanks, Paige. I will. I would like you to meet her. Will you join us for lunch?"

"I'd love to."

Chang's wife, Sye, turned out to be a lovely young woman with a classic, timeless beauty. Chang showed her around the hospital, and afterward they had lunch in the cafeteria with Paige.

Chang had told Paige that Sye had been born and raised in Hong Kong.

"How do you like San Francisco?" Paige asked.

There was a small silence. "It's an interesting city," Sye said politely, "but I feel as though I am a stranger here. It is too big, too noisy."

" But I understand Hong Kong is also big and noisy.''

"I come from a small village an hour away from Hong Kong. There, there is no noise and no automo¬biles, and everyone knows his neighbors." She looked at her husband. "Tom and I and our little daughter were very happy there. It is very beautiful on the island of Llama. It has white beaches and small farms, and nearby is a little fishing village, Sak Kwu Wan. It is so peace¬ful."

Her voice was filled with a wistful nostalgia. "My husband and I were together much of the time, as a family should be. Here, I never see him."

Paige said, "Mrs. Chang, I know it's difficult for you right now, but in a few years, Tom will be able to set up his own practice, and then his hours will be much easier."

Tom Chang took his wife's hand. "You see? Every¬thing will be fine, Sye. You must be patient."

"I understand," she said. There was no conviction in her voice.

As they talked, a man walked into the cafeteria, and as he stood at the door, Paige could see only the back of his head. Her heart started to race. He turned around. It was a complete stranger.

Chang was watching Paige. "Are you all right?"

"Yes," Paige lied. I've got to forget him. It's over. And yet, the memories of all those wonderful years, the fun, the excitement, the love they had for each other... How do I forget all that'? I wonder if I could persuade any of the doctors here to do a lobotomy on me.

Paige ran into Honey in the corridor. Honey was out of breath and looked worried.

"Is everything all right?" Paige asked.

Honey smiled uneasily. "Yes. Fine." She hurried on.

Honey had been assigned to an attending physician named Charles Isler, who was known around the hospi¬tal as a martinet.

On Honey's first day of rounds, he had said, "I've been looking forward to working with you, Dr. Taft. Dr. Wallace has told me about your outstanding record at medical school. I understand you're going to practice internal medicine."

"Yes."

"Good. So, we'll have you here for three more years."

They began their rounds.

The first patient was a young Mexican boy. Dr. Isler ignored the other residents and turned to Honey. "I think you'll find this an interesting case, Dr. Taft. The patient has all the classic signs and symptoms: anorexia, weight loss, metallic taste, fatigue, anemia, hyperirritability, and uncoordination. How would you diagnose it?" He smiled expectantly.

Honey looked at him a moment. "Well, it could be several things, couldn't it?"

Dr. Isler was watching her, puzzled. "It's a clear-cut case of—"

One of the other residents broke in, "Lead poison¬ing?"

"That's right," Dr. Isler said.

Honey smiled. "Of course. Lead poisoning."

Dr. Isler turned to Honey again. "How would you treat it?"

Honey said evasively,' 'Well, there are several differ¬ent methods of treatment, aren't there?"

A second resident spoke up. "If the patient has had long-term exposure, he should be treated as a potential case of encephalopathy."

Dr. Isler nodded. "Right. That's what we're doing. We're correcting the dehydration and electrolyte distur¬bances, and giving him chelation therapy."

He looked at Honey. She nodded in agreement.

The next patient was a man in his eighties. His eyes were red and his eyelids were stuck together.

"We'll have your eyes taken care of in a moment," Dr. Isler assured him. "How are you feeling?"

"Oh, not too bad for an old man."

Dr. Isler pulled aside the blanket to reveal the pa¬tient's swollen knee and ankle. There were lesions on the soles of his feet.

Dr. Isler turned to the residents. "The swelling is caused by arthritis." He looked at Honey. "Combined with the lesions and the conjunctivitis, I'm sure you know what the diagnosis is."

Honey said slowly, "Well, it could be... you know..."

"It's Reiter's syndrome," one of the residents spoke up. "The cause is unknown. It's usually accompanied by low-grade fever."

Dr. Isler nodded. "That's right." He looked at Honey. "What is the prognosis?"

"The prognosis?"

The other resident replied. ' 'The prognosis is unclear. It can be treated with anti-inflammation drugs."

"Very good," Dr. Isler said.

They made the rounds of a dozen more patients, and when they were finished, Honey said to Dr. Isler, "Could I see you for a moment alone, Dr. Isler?"

"Yes. Come into my office."

When they were seated in his office, Honey said, "I know you're disappointed in me."

"I must admit that I was a little surprised that you—"

Honey interrupted. "I know, Dr. Isler. I didn't close my eyes last night. To tell you the truth, I was so excited about working with you that I... I just couldn't sleep."

He looked at her in surprise. "Oh. I see. I knew there had to be a reason for... I mean, your medical school record was so fantastic. What made you decide to be¬come a doctor?"

Honey looked down for a moment, then said softly, "I had a younger brother who was injured in an acci¬dent. The doctors did everything they could to try to save him... but I watched him die. It took a long time, and I felt so helpless. I decided then that I was going to spend my life helping other people get well." Her eyes welled up with tears.

She's so vulnerable, Isler thought. "I'm glad we had this little talk." Honey looked at him and thought, He believed me.