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Time To Testify
A NovelBy John HaswellChapter OneNight CallBy the time Dr. Jay Atwell finished his first year ofresidency at Parkland Memorial Hospital, he looked hollow–eyed and haggard. He had shed fifteen pounds from his six–foot frame and felt like a caged animal.Parkland’s obstetrical department had a reputation ofhaving one of the best teaching programs in the UnitedStates, but it was also a baby mill, cranking out fivehundred deliveries a month. For the privilege of working
 
eighty hours a week, residents were paid one hundred fiftydollars per month.Jay liked delivering babies and was certain he hadfound his niche, but his savings teetered on empty, and hiswife hated their cockroach-infested South Dallas apartment.With his busy schedule they barely spoke. The crowning blowcame when the chairman of the OB department issued an edictthat prohibited any resident from working outside thehospital. Most residents worked part-time at walk-inclinics to make ends meet. If Jay couldn’t work an extrajob, his family wouldn’t have food and he would have toleave the program.Frustrated, he reenlisted in the United States Navy.As a lieutenant, he reported for duty at the BainbridgeNaval Training Center in northern Maryland. The agingmilitary facility center sat nestled on a bluff above theSusquehanna River, fifty miles south of Philadelphia, andonly a buggy ride from the Amish settlements of Lancaster.Built during World War II and now nearly abandoned, thedilapidated wooden buildings and overgrown grass resembleda worn-out veteran gasping for air.Jay’s luck changed when his commanding officer foundan opening for a second-year OB resident. Within forty-eight hours, he would begin the last two years of his
 
residency at Portsmouth Naval Hospital.At exactly 5:00
PM
, he dialed the black rotary phoneand waited, hoping Ellen would answer. Commander EllenJones, a single nurse in her early thirties, had shortfrosted hair and gorgeous blue eyes. Jay would like to havetoasted her with a cold Michelob at his going–away party,but she was on duty that evening.“Labor and delivery, Ellen Jones.”“It’s Jay. I’m checking in.”“Hi, Jay. Isn’t this your last night?”“It is. I’m all packed. Anybody in labor?”“No, it’s spooky quiet.”“Any elevated temperatures?”“No, but the coffee’s fresh if you want to drop by.I’d like to see you before you shove off.”“I’d like to . . . but I can’t. The packers have beenat the apartment all day, and the movers are coming at thecrack of dawn.”“I’m sorry I missed your going-away party.”“Me too...I wanted to buy you a drink,” said Jay.“And I wanted to toast your transfer. I hope we meetagain.”“I hope so too,” replied Jay.“Next time I’ll buy,” said Ellen. “At least you’re
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