Chapter 1 – A Reluctant Choice

“So what are you saying-we have no choice?”

Dr. Irene Haas glared across the table at Memorial Hospital’s pathology chairman, Dr. Alex Morelli. He was nearly sixty, though his carefully groomed brown hair and beard concealed it. His tweed jacket, open-collared shirt, and tuft of chest hair gave him the look of a professor trying to appear casual but in control.

“We’ve been over this for an hour,” Morelli said, throwing his hands in the air. “What is your objection, Irene?”

“You know my objection. I don’t want FMGs in this program.” Her black hair framed a face still youthful, though her severity dimmed whatever beauty remained. “We can attract the best. Why reach outside the country?”

Morelli tapped the folder in front of him. “James has proven himself in Carter’s lab. You saw the evaluation.”

“You even asked Carter here?”

“Because I knew you’d object to Deetan.”

Haas leaned forward, voice rising. “He got into Carter’s lab through his father. Connections. Carter and his father trained together in New York. This is just a back door into a U.S. residency. That’s what these FMGs do — they game the system.”

Her pencil snapped against the pad. Didn’t anyone else see it? Didn’t anyone care that she was fighting to protect the program’s reputation?

“Calm down, Irene,” Morelli said. “Recruiting has been tough everywhere. We’re not alone.”

“I’d rather leave the slot unfilled than accept a foreign graduate.”

“That’s not fair,” Dr. Masao Nomura interrupted. At sixty-two, in his green scrubs and lab coat, he still cut a solid figure. “Some of the finest pathologists in this country are FMGs.”

“Are any of them here?” Haas shot back.

Nomura’s jaw tightened. “Meaning?”

“Meaning we don’t hire them. With one exception fifteen years ago, our residents are all American graduates. That’s why our program is among the best. Why make an exception now?”

“I seem to recall that ‘exception’ is now chair of Ohio’s program.”

“That proves nothing. Most FMGs barely speak English. And this one—‘Deetan’? Sounds like a typo.”

“That is inappropriate,” Morelli cut in.

“Is it? Do we even know this Philippine medical school?”

Morelli slid a sheet across the table. “University of the Philippines. Top of his class. STEP scores in the top percentile. He’s Chinese-Filipino, speaks English and Fukien. His father is a well-known oncologic surgeon in Quezon City — trained with Carter in New York.”

Nomura’s tone was sharp. “If you replaced ‘Philippines’ with ‘Michigan,’ you wouldn’t be objecting.”

Haas crossed her arms. “We’re not talking hypotheticals. He’s a foreigner.”

The conference door swung open. Dr. George Carter strode in, surgical cap still in place. “Sorry I’m late. Case ran long.”

“Perfect timing,” Morelli said. “You know everyone. We’re finalizing next year’s residents. James Deetan is our last candidate. He worked in your lab. What do you say?”

“James should be your first choice,” Carter replied without hesitation. “Fine mind. Works hard. Responsible.”

“I see you got some good abstracts out of him,” Haas said coolly.

Carter grinned. “Very well received. He even assisted with my dog surgeries—good hands, like his father. I tried to steer him to surgery, but he’s committed to pathology. Guess he prefers patients in smaller pieces.” He chuckled. “He’ll be an asset. Alex, he’s a keeper.”

Morelli nodded. “If our chief of surgery says so, that’s good enough for me. Any questions?” His quick glance discouraged further debate.

“All in favor of accepting Dr. James Deetan as a first-year resident in July?”

Nods moved around the table. Eyes shifted toward Haas.

They’re ruining this program, she thought. Everything I’ve built, destroyed.

Her face was unreadable. “Fine.” She rose before anyone could answer and walked out, leaving the air colder in her wake.

Next Chapter: Chapter 2-Sign Out