Michael Malone - Weebly

Haig. Dr. Deeds was angry. In the Chicago years
before she began to concentrate exclusively on
research, she had seen a great many raped and beaten
women brought into emergency rooms. She was inured
to the sight, but not to the fact. "I don't want her to start
thinking somehow it was her fault that whoever did this
to her got killed, or that her husband got killed, because
she got raped. She's got to get angry instead of
ashamed. Right?"
"Right on, honey," said her sister, then looked at the
chart Ruth was scribbling on and added, "Hey! You're
a doctor! Right on, right on!"
By Saturday morning it was evident that Mrs. Haig
was in no real danger of heart arrest. She was wheeled
into a room across an opened curtain from a tired,
affable woman close to her in age, who announced at
once that though she had just lost one of her breasts,
she felt confident that the doctors had caught the tumor
in time and that she would be able to keep the other
one. "Actually I don't know if one's better than none or
not, it's hard to say. But staying alive, that's the main
thing, isn't it?" she asked with an expectant nod.