Chapter 48: Match Week ‘87

March 16, 1987, McKinley, Ohio

“Today’s the big day for Fourth Years,” Clarissa declared when our study group met for breakfast on Monday morning.

The past week had been blessedly quiet for all of us, at school, on our Preceptorships, and at home. Maryam and I had received our assignments for our last Preceptorship, and to my delight, we were assigned to the medical practice where Doctor Smith practiced. That Preceptorship would begin on April 7th, the week before Holy Week.

“They’re notified just that they’ve Matched, right?” Peter asked.

“Yes,” Fran replied. “The hospitals get the names of their Matches, but students are simply told today if they Matched or not. Those who didn’t, Scramble starting tomorrow, and then the students are given their Match letters on Thursday.”

Which was when, I was sure, Melissa Bush’s lawsuit would be re-filed, unless she successfully Scrambled to what would otherwise be an undesirable Residency. Personally, I’d have sought interviews with hospitals in the most undesirable locations with the least desirable specialties, proved myself, and tried to switch programs; or once I’d completed the requirements for a medical license, hung out my own shingle.

I doubted she had done that, and I had the distinct impression from Mr. Winston that Melissa somehow thought she could win in court in such a way that would force a hospital to accept her as a Resident, but that was basically an impossibility. We had learned in our Practice of Medicine course that successfully suing to have a medical license restored was a very difficult road to travel, and nearly always met with failure, as licenses were considered discretionary. The same was true for Residency, and there had never been a successful suit against a medical school for a student who didn’t Match that had resulted in that student gaining a Residency.

“That has to be stressful,” Maryam observed.

“You mean not Matching and Scrambling?” Nadine asked.

“I mean the whole thing. Waiting for your letter today saying if you Matched or not, then either having to Scramble or wait until Thursday to know where you Matched and where you’ll have to live and work for three to ten years.”

“So long as I get into a surgical program, I’d live on the Moon!” Peter declared.

“I don’t think there are any surgical Residencies on the Moon,” I chuckled. “We haven’t even been there for fifteen years!”

“Think we’ll go back?” he asked.

“Eventually,” I replied. “But for now, the best we can do is put astronauts and cosmonauts into low earth orbit. That’s a limitation of the Shuttle. I do think the Russians could launch into higher orbits, but they don’t have the capacity to send men around the Moon at this point, let alone land. We’re in the same shape. Money and will are the two basic necessities, and right now the US has neither.”

“I think the next Moon landing will be by some private company,” Peter suggested. “Well, if it isn’t the Soviets or the Chinese.”

“You really think so?” Clarissa asked. “The costs are so high, who could afford to do it?”

“A capitalist with a profit motive,” Peter said with a grin. “NASA will continue to launch satellites, but I honestly think going to the Moon or Mars has to be a business proposition, because politically it will never fly.”

We all laughed at the ‘fly’ comment.

“Back to the Match,” Maryam said. “Does anyone know how the open positions are communicated?”

“Each medical school gets a printout by fax,” Fran said. “And they post them.”

“It would be way easier if there was some way to access them by computer,” Nadine offered. “But I’m not sure how many medical students have computers at home.”

“Or, if they do, how willing are they to actually touch them?!” Clarissa teased.

“I’m not that bad,” I replied.

“Now!” Fran laughed. “I remember at Taft when you felt like walking into the computer center was like going through the gates of Hell!”

I chuckled, “I did comment that computers were infernal machines, and that associating them with demons was appropriate!”

Peter laughed, “If you took a computer course that used Unix, the background processes that run on them are called ‘daemons’.”

“There you go!” I declared. “Proof positive I was right!”

They all laughed.

“I take it you took more than one computer class?” Fran inquired.

“I actually have a CS minor,” he said. “One of my biochem professors was convinced that medicine would be highly computerized before we complete our Residencies, and that getting the extra training would help. Did any of you take more than one course?”

“None for me,” Maryam said.

“Or me,” Nadine added.

“Just one for the rest of us, and that includes Sandy,” I said. “Elizaveta has a Macintosh, and it’s been useful for the papers we’ve had to write. She suggested that they could come up with a small computer that you could hold in your hand that used a radio to talk to a bigger computer.”

“The small ones exist,” Peter said. “Radio Shack came out with the TRS-80 Pocket Computer in 1980, I think. It was programmable in BASIC, though pretty limited. It didn’t have a radio, but think about how small radios have become. I don’t think it will be too long before what I’m talking about exists, and maybe it does and I don’t know about it.”

“I did comment to Doctor Gibbs that a computer that contained patient records and was easily accessible to the doctors in the ER would be a huge help in tracking ‘frequent flyers’ to see if they actually had a serious medical condition or were just GOMERs.”

Everyone laughed.

“Hearing you use that term is strange,” Peter said.

“I picked up the lingo from Doctor Gibbs and the other ER docs. I’ve been practicing speaking like a doctor at every opportunity. I’ve had more than a few chances at the Free Clinic.”

“He’s getting the royal treatment again,” Clarissa said.

“First in our class, and regarded by the professors as the top student in the entire school?” Peter asked. “You have to expect that. None of us are slouches, mind you, but Mike is the cream of the crop, so to speak. And the cream rises to the top!”

“So does the scum,” Clarissa teased.

“Thank you VERY much, Lissa,” I replied, trying, but failing, to sound annoyed.

“I just call them as I see them!” she said with a smirk.

“Mike, how are you handling your Holy Week?” Fran asked.

“Well, with services every evening from the Friday before Palm Sunday to Pascha, and morning services on Saturday, Sunday, Thursday, and Saturday, and all day on Friday, I doubt I’ll make any study sessions except, perhaps, Thursday afternoon. I’m going to speak with Doctor Mertens as soon as I finish eating to arrange for a religious accommodation to miss class on Thursday and Friday.”

“I’ll come with you, Deacon, if that’s OK,” Maryam requested. “I plan to attend all the services.”

“You’re welcome to join me, of course. And to complete the answer, after Pascha, it’s basically smooth sailing to the MLE. I’ve already discussed with Father Nicholas that my duties at church have to take a backseat to doing well on the exam. And I’ll see the bishop when he’s at Saint Michael the Archangel on Sunday.”

“I think we’ll pass on studying that week,” Fran said. “I know Clarissa attends some of the services. How about we just plan on Thursday afternoon, and review MLE material? I don’t think anyone needs review for our classes at this point. The professors have lightened up on exams and quizzes, knowing we’re focused on the MLE.”

“That sounds good to me,” I said, “but it’s up to the rest of you if you want to meet without Maryam and me.”

“I think I could use the break,” Peter said. “Just Thursday for MLE review sounds good.”

“Sure, that’s fine,” Nadine agreed. “I mean, we can always review our own flashcards and notes if we want more study time. I have to say that the flashcard idea is awesome, and if my previous group had done that, I’d be in the top fifteen students.”

“You moved up another three spots on the list published at the end of February,” Clarissa observed. “Every one of those at this point improves your chances for getting the best Match two years from now.”

“There can be big fluctuations from your clinical work, too,” Peter added. “Knock those out of the park, and you’ll have a chance to move up several more spots. I hear that every year there are a few top-ranked students who struggle with clinical work. Some of those are the ones who do well in class and on exams, but fail to Match because their clinical work is sub-par.”

“Easier said than done,” Nadine countered. “it all depends on the scores the doctors give you, and we’ve all heard horror stories.”

“And almost always a result of something the student did or didn’t do,” I replied. “Which is why we all need to be completely focused on doing the right thing and not doing the wrong thing. And if we screw up, or don’t know something, admitting it and asking for help. None of us have egos so big that we can’t admit error and accept correction.”

“So it’s like going to confession?” Maryam asked.

“That’s a good analogy,” I replied. “I’ve heard that from several doctors on my Preceptorships.”

“Me, too,” Fran declared.

I finished eating, then Maryam and I excused ourselves to go to Doctor Mertens’ office to discuss the religious accommodation. It was quickly granted, and Doctor Mertens promised to notify our professors so that we’d be able to make up any quizzes or hand in assignments late, should that be necessary. Doctor Mertens asked me to stay and Maryam left, saying she’d see me in class with a large coffee waiting for me.

“Melissa Bush will be notified she didn’t Match in about twenty minutes,” Doctor Mertens said.

“I pretty much assumed that was going to be the case. I’m also assuming she’ll re-file her lawsuit on Thursday if she isn’t able to Scramble.”

“That’s our assessment as well.”

“She really ought to look at a regional hospital in, say, rural Louisiana, Alabama, or Georgia, and try for something like radiology or even trauma. Some of those spots go completely unfilled.”

“That’s true, but even those hospitals have standards, and she has some huge black marks on her record.”

“It’s still worth a shot, and what I’d advise her. If she can get a phone interview and say the right things, she might actually find a Match.”

“And you think that’s a good thing?”

“Anyone can be redeemed, Doctor Mertens. It’s a tenet of my faith. That said, she would have a lot of work to do to prove she’s worthy of a medical license. And serving a community like that, which would be very different from her WASP church, might actually help. Of course, I could be wrong, and she could treat them with complete disdain or do the minimum necessary to get by, but that would be for her Attending to evaluate.”

“You’re awfully forgiving, considering what her family has done to you and your friends.”

“I know a guy who, while being nailed to a cross, forgave the men executing him, knowing he was about to die.”

Doctor Mertens nodded, “That fits your entire outlook, as I suppose it should, given your position in your church.”

“I’m a servant, not a leader,” I replied

Doctor Mertens smiled, “Those two things often go together. People follow your lead because you are a servant. And those are the best kinds of leaders. Imagine if our politicians actually made true public service their primary focus.”

I nodded, “Being elected does not make a leader, except in name.”

“Exactly right. You’re a leader here, Mike, even if you don’t realize it. And I’m not just talking about your study group.”

“You do know that Fran is our leader, right?”

Doctor Mertens nodded, “And yet, it’s your lead everyone follows, isn’t it? What I hear is that Fran is your organizer, and she’s very good at that. But you set the tone and direction for your study group. And others notice. Even in your Preceptorships where you aren’t able to do much because of the rules, you display the necessary servant’s heart but are not afraid to grasp the bull by the horns when the situation calls for it.”

“I’ll take your word for it.”

“Mike, humility is good, but don’t take that too far. Understand the balance between humility and assertiveness necessary to be a successful doctor in trauma or surgery. That means seizing every opportunity to learn and to do procedures. That might mean elbowing others out of the way. You’ll have to do that because everyone else will be doing it. It’s like ice hockey — even Wayne Gretzky has to check and be checked.”

“Or Mario Lemieux,” I replied. “And he did something Gretzky will never be able to do!”

“What’s that?”

“Be the number one draft pick in the NHL draft! Gretzky was too young. You had to be twenty to be drafted by the NHL, and he was only seventeen, so he entered the WHA draft and started playing for the Indianapolis Racers of the World Hockey Association. He was later sold to the Oilers, and was on the team when the WHA folded and the Oilers joined the NHL.”

“That’s a nice bit of trivia that might win you some bar bets if you were a drinker!”

“Lemieux also scored on his first shift of his first game,” I grinned. “Not even the Great One did that!”

“You must be a Penguins fan, then.”

“I am, but I only really can follow hockey by looking at box scores in the papers. There are no NHL teams closer than Pittsburgh and Detroit. Anyway, I need to get back to class.”

“Either Doctor Warren or I will let you know if Melissa Bush re-files her suit.”

“Thanks, Doctor Mertens.”

I left her office and headed to the lecture hall to sit between Maryam and Clarissa, finding a large coffee on the writing board of my seat.

March 19, 1987, McKinley and Rutherford, Ohio

“Word on the street is that Melissa Bush didn’t Scramble,” Fran said as all of us left the cafeteria after lunch on Thursday to head to the room we had reserved for our study group.

“No surprise there,” I replied. “Did you get a final count on the ones who didn’t Match?”

“Seven,” Fran responded, “which is about eight percent of the class. That’s a bit higher, but with small classes as we have here, it just takes one or two to raise the percentage significantly.”

“And having a student like Melissa Bush doesn’t help,” Clarissa observed, “as she was likely never going to Match and probably should have dropped out.”

“How many, total, had to Scramble?” I asked.

“Eleven. Four found programs which would accept them.”

“That seems in line with what we’ve been told,” Peter observed. “Were any of them in the top quarter of the class?”

“Just one, but he successfully Scrambled.”

“That’s reassuring,” Nadine declared.

We headed to the cafeteria for lunch, and then had our afternoon study group. After study group, Clarissa and I headed to the parking lot, got into our cars and each headed home.

“There were two calls for you,” Elizaveta said. “First, your dad called to say Holly is in labor; and second, Mr. Winston called to say that the school notified him that Melissa Bush had re-filed her lawsuit. No need to call either of them back, because your dad took Holly to the hospital and Mr. Winston said you aren’t named in the suit.”

“Good. I need five minutes, then we can leave for Rutherford.”

I used the bathroom, changed cassocks, and then we walked out to my car for the drive to my sister’s house.

“Dad called earlier,” I said to Mom when we walked into the house behind the motel. “He and Holly are at the hospital.”

“Well, good luck to them,” Mom said. “Your father with an infant at his age ought to be interesting.”

I shrugged, “It’s Dad’s concern, and I still haven’t figured out how to handle the relationship to my half-sibling.”

“Count me out!” Liz declared. “Hi, Mikey! Hi, Elizaveta!”

“Hi, Lizard Breath!” I grinned.

“Are you two ever going to grow up?” Mom asked.

“NO!” Liz and I declared in unison, causing Paul, Elizaveta, and Stefan to laugh.

“We do have an announcement of our own,” Mom said, holding up her hand to show an engagement ring.

“Congratulations, Mom!” I said. “I’m happy for you.”

“Thanks, Mike.”

“Me, too, Mom,” Elizaveta said with a smile. “I’m very happy! When is the wedding?”

“Late June, most likely,” Mom said. “Stefan needs to sit down with Father Alexi, but given he’s Byzantine Rite Catholic, it’s simply a matter of saying the Creed without the extra phrase, and denouncing the Pope.”

“Something I’ve done for years, anyway!” Stefan declared, laughing. “Along with many other members of our parish. It’s too bad we didn’t join the others who returned to the Orthodox Church with Father Alexis Toth.”

“Well, that oversight will be corrected soon, then.”

“Do you approve, Deacon?”

“My mother’s life is hers to live the way she sees fit,” I replied. “She needs neither my approval nor my blessing. That said, I’m happy to welcome you to the family!”

“Thank you!”

My grandparents arrived, and it was obvious that they already heard the news, just as Liz and Paul had. I didn’t take it as a slight, and if my mom asked, I’d let her know that. We did have a chance to speak privately just before dinner.

“Have you told dad?” I asked.

“No. It’s not really any of his business. You’re free to tell him, of course.”

“Was Stefan really concerned about my approval?”

“He was concerned you might see him trying to usurp your father’s place.”

“Dad abdicated that place when he cheated on you,” I said. “He’s still my father, but the relationship is not the same as it was before. I think Stefan will be a good step-father.”

“The opposite of what you’ve said about Holly.”

“In addition to sleeping with a married man, she’s younger than I am. I’ll figure out a relationship with my half-sibling, but Holly is not anything to me but Dad’s second wife. What did grandpa say?”

“Stefan actually asked his permission, and your grandfather gave it, but not before a bit of needling.”

“Shocking,” I replied dryly.

“Remember, I grew up with him as my dad!”

I chuckled, “And you had a lot of fun by your own admission!”

“Oh, shut up!” Mom said, laughing. “I swear I should never have told you about that!”

“Yes, you should have,” I replied. “It made me understand that you could actually relate to what I was going through. All teasing aside, it was a positive step in our relationship.”