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Recently in Salon Health & Body

Urge: Naked World
Bawdy blasphemers arrested in Ramadan sex scandal
At the turn of the millennium, Kuwaiti sex police are trying to staunch the flow of Western sex sins from corrupting their land.
By Hank Hyena
[01/07/00]

Prescription for change
President Clinton proposes the regulation of online drug sales.
By Damien Cave
[01/06/00]

Urge: Naked World
Crocodile genitalia siezed
The massive reptilian penises are smuggled into Malaysia as an impotence cure.
By Hank Hyena
[01/06/00]

Health Urge: Nancy Chan
Fates collide
It's hard to maintain a web of deceit in a small town like New York.
By Tracy Quan
[01/06/00]

The unmentionable
No one wants to talk about it, but many will get this pain in the butt.
By Michael Alvear
[01/05/00]

Complete archives for Health & Body

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My life was at a crossroads. I had just graduated medical school, and only a week before had moved across the country to a state and coast I'd never even seen before. It was time to start my internship, and I felt unprepared and nervous. Most distressing of all, my student days were over -- it was time for me to get serious. I was about to become a doctor.

Romance was the furthest thing from my mind as the blinding San Diego sun cast shadows of palm trees upon the walls of Mercy Hospital that hot June morning. I sat down with the other new interns in the orientation room, unaware that fate was just about to tap me on the shoulder, then slug me right in the mouth.

But as my new co-workers began cheerily introducing themselves to each other between facefuls of bagel and coffee, one of the office managers pulled me off to the side. "There's someone I want you to meet," he said, smiling secretively. Without another word, he walked off. Confused, I followed him past the crowd and through a nearly hidden doorway into a small back room. I looked around and suddenly, my stomach dropped, my head began to swim. That's when I first saw her.

I remember it all like it was yesterday. I was wearing a blue shirt and goofy suspenders; she was wearing a pair of Duracell AA's. It wasn't long before pager #5708 and I went everywhere together. You might say we were joined at the hip. And why not? After all, this was a time in my life when I'd begun to take on new responsibilities. I was no longer just worried about passing tests and getting grades -- I had real, living patients to take care of. Having her by my side gave me the confidence I needed.

Though she rarely spoke, I sensed a hidden complexity within. Just slipping my hand around her smooth back gave me the sensation of something electric inside her. Yet despite her soft-spoken nature, I always knew that if there was something important going on, she'd tell me. And she was the only one who could interrupt me any time she wanted. I even found it kind of cute, the way she'd cut in mid-sentence.

Like the time one of my patients decided that since he was Julius Caesar, congestive heart failure was not nearly enough to keep him from his appointed duties of taxation, orgies and constructing aqueducts; he therefore had to leave the hospital at once. Had my girl not alerted me to the situation, perhaps I wouldn't have arrived in time to convince him that his empire would be well-controlled for another four days while we removed all the fluid that was overloading his heart. And we'd never have learned to fear the Ides of March.

Of course, as with any new love, I was eager yet apprehensive about introducing her to my parents. Would they understand how closely we'd bonded in such a short time? Would they mind that she was black? Fortunately, when the time came, my darling little #5708 was up to the task. In fact, she dominated the dinner conversation, rarely going a minute or two without speaking up about something. And whenever she spoke, you could be sure it was about something of consequence. I could not have been more proud.

Next page | The first time we slept together