Chapter 72: Any Question You Ask

January 14, 1990, Circleville, Ohio

After church on Sunday, Kris and I dropped Rachel at Abby's house, where she'd have a sleepover, something that made her very happy. Kris would pick her up after class on Monday.

"Think she'll miss us?" Kris asked with a smile as we drove away from the Greene's house.

"We're chopped liver compared to Abby," I chuckled. "You saw her run to Abby and hug her as soon as Joel opened the door! No kiss, no hug, no 'goodbye' for her parents!"

"So, she's a teenager at two and a half?"

"Pretty much," I chuckled.

"Did Father Roman expressly forbid sex today?"

"No, and he'd never do that. On the other hand, he did counsel spending more time talking than fooling around."

"I don't want to make light of your concerns, but Rachel does not appear to be suffering from a lack of attention. You make time for her every day, even if it's just reading a book, saying our prayers, and going to church together. I know you want to spend more time with her, but I don't see how that would be possible short of giving up your career in medicine.

"As for me, you reminded me of the challenges that would arise to the point I finally insisted you stop doing so! And yet, here I am, happily married to you and pregnant with your second child, who will be born sometime in June. If you remember what I said to you, then you would understand that I love you and want to be with you. It really is that simple."

"I don't disagree with you, but I think my concern is more nuanced. And maybe it's just me and my reaction to your view of relationships, but I'm not sure I can describe it without making what are very likely dangerous and inappropriate comparisons."

"You mean to Elizaveta, right?"

"Yes," I said as I pulled into the driveway of the house. "Let's continue this inside."

"On one condition," Kris said with a smile. "We make love first. I think it's important."

About an hour later, having made love in our favorite position — me sitting cross-legged with Kris facing me and her legs wrapped around me, we showered, then made tea, and went to sit on the couch in the great room.

"You know I'm not the jealous type," Kris said. "I also know you love me with your whole heart, so I think it's OK to make the comparison if that will help you."

"I think," I said carefully, "it comes down to a struggle between different philosophies that have been in tension for as long as I can remember — romanticism versus empiricism, or emotion versus logic, or utilitarianism versus faith. There is an ebb and flow of those tendencies as to which one is ascendant, and it's the tension that causes me to get into trouble at work.

"Elizaveta was generally governed by emotion, and I was the more logical, practical one, though not always. You are governed by logic and practicality, and now I'm the more emotional one. That creates a very different type of relationship. I mentioned to Father Roman and to Vladyka that what I needed from Elizaveta was very different from what I need from you."

"Am I not supporting you emotionally in the way you need me to?" Kris asked.

"If I could put my finger on the thing that's making me uneasy, we'd have already solved it. I think, all things being equal, I was more balanced emotionally and psychologically before Elizaveta reposed, but it would be too easy to simply point to either her or you as the source of my imbalance. In fact, I'd say the source is internal; I just don't know how to fix it, and I think it's what is causing my erratic emotional swings at work.

"I think the thing that is disquieting is that I've spoken to Vladyka JOHN, Father Roman, you, Clarissa, Shelly Lindsay, and Ghost and haven't been able to work out what I need to do. Loretta and Nurse Martin both have noticed, but neither of them can really offer any advice, given they don't know me well enough, and neither of them are Orthodox."

"No accusations, but this is where doctors have affairs or abuse drugs, isn't it?"

"Yes. I have several people to keep me on the straight and narrow in that regard, including Clarissa and Nurse Martin, both of whom I see almost every day. Obviously, Vladyka JOHN, Father Roman, and Father Luke are available as well. And you, of course. The problem with either of those courses of action, besides the obvious immediate, painful death at the hands of an irate French woman, is that they don't actually solve the problem."

"Slow, painful death," Kris said with a smirk. "Not immediate!"

I smiled, "Noted for future reference! But ultimately, as someone who has to be utilitarian in his work — that is, see what works and keep doing that — those options fail the test, never mind the commitments I've made. And that's the trap for doctors — you think it's going to help you feel better emotionally or take away the pain, but in the end, it only makes things worse."

"So if an affair or drugs were an effective cure, you'd consider them?"

"And reject them for other reasons. Just because something works doesn't mean I'd do it. That's where faith and ethics come in. I think the perfect example is what they're calling 'physician-assisted suicide'. There's a doctor in Michigan who is, in effect, advertising for a patient to be a test case. His basic operating theory is that a patient with a terminal, debilitating, painful disease ought to have the right to have a physician prescribe or even administer a lethal dose of drugs, most likely a sedative. That would be an effective way to reduce suffering, but not something I could ever ethically do, even if it were ostensibly in the patient's best interest and at their request."

"Because of your faith, your oath, or a combination of both?"

"A combination, but it's an interesting debate between 'do no harm' and being a 'forceful advocate for your patient'. I would outright reject any form of euthanasia which was not initiated by the patient, but the other one is a close call. I would, in the end, classify it the way I do abortion — I would never be party to it and would never counsel it, but I wouldn't block a patient from requesting it. That said, I don't think physicians should be involved because, suddenly, we are no longer solely healers. But I think we've strayed off the path."

"Yes, but it does give me insight into your thinking. May I ask a very direct question?"

"Of course."

"If there were a risk, who would it be?"

I smiled, "Speaking purely hypothetically, the answer to that question is not one of the 'usual suspects' because I'd be on my guard. It would be some random, out-of-the-blue flirtation."

"If Clarissa were straight?" Kris asked with a smile.

"I'd have been married to her, not Elizaveta and my life would be VERY different. So no, there would be no risk of an affair!"

Kris laughed softly, "There's the logical Mike on full display!"

"That was before, when we were naked in bed!" I said.

Kris laughed again, "And an impressive display it is!"

"I'm certainly happy you think so!"

"Teasing aside, have you considered speaking to the counselor who helped you before you had the falling out over Angie?"

"I'm not sure speaking to Doctor Mercer is the right course of action," I replied.

"Perhaps a secular counselor might provide insight."

"Perhaps."

"A question you don't have to answer, but what would Elizaveta's solution have been?"

I chuckled, "The same as always — more sex and doing things her way."

Kris laughed, "I see. Are we having enough sex?"

"My smart aleck answer is that there is no such thing as 'too much sex'! But even I know that's not true! The actual answer is that I don't believe the frequency of sexual congress is the source of the problem."

""Sexual congress'? Seriously?"

"We do vary what we do! And I daresay you've pointed out that oral sex is more intimate than intercourse!"

"I still say you Americans are strange in that you can be cavalier with oral sex, and many people don't equate anal sex with 'sex' with regard to virginity! Your fetish with 'virginity', as strictly defined, is the source of no end of confusion about sex!"

"Without delving deep into the theology, you can lay much of the blame for the Western views on sex at the feet of Augustine of Hippo and his dualistic Manichaeism, which made him hostile to sexual activity. Well, at least once he'd had enough of it!"

Kris laughed, "Father Jacques said Augustine was happy to have a mistress, but when it was time to marry, he swore off sex! My grandfather joked that Augustine should have married because that was the perfect way to ensure he had very little sex! My grandmother simply laughed."

"Nice," I chuckled. "Experience indicates otherwise! To state it directly, I am very happy with our sex life and very satisfied. I have no specific need or desire that has gone unfulfilled."

"I want to ask a very personal question."

"I'll answer any question you ask," I replied. "Just be sure you want the answer."

"Including names?"

"I'd prefer not to, but if you insist, I would. The same goes for anything which might make it obvious I was with a particular girl."

"No names, please; I agree with you on that. And yes, please be circumspect as necessary. How long was it after Elizaveta's repose before you had sex?"

"Roughly two months," I replied. "The «Указ» (Ukase) was issued about six weeks after her repose, and the first time was about three weeks later. I had performance anxiety, and I literally cried myself to sleep afterwards." ("letter directive")

"I would never have guessed it was that soon because it doesn't seem to fit you."

"Oh, it does," I replied. "Before Elizaveta, I had a string of casual lovers, for which my various confessors took me to task, as they should have."

"Given your personality, I would have thought you had a few serious girlfriends, but it appears you engaged in extensive casual sex as well."

"At first, and I mean from the time I was with Jocelyn, I was controlled. When things with Jocelyn went from bad to worse, I lost all perspective. After Elizaveta's repose, I was emotionally needy and tried to substitute sex for intimacy. That failed miserably. Unfortunately, there were plenty of willing young women, and I availed myself of the opportunities presented."

"None of that surprises me," Kris said. "I read between the lines of things you've said and Clarissa or Lara have said, and I had a fairly good idea that you were promiscuous. So long as that is in the past, it's of no concern."

"It is," I said firmly.

"I'm curious if you could stay chaste while betrothed to Elizaveta and later to me, as well as after her repose but before your release..."

"A question asked by my confessors with regularity. I frustrated them as well."

"Did you have an answer?"

"Not a good one."

"Is there ever a good one?" Kris asked with an arched eyebrow.

I chuckled, "No, of course not, but there are answers which confessors receive better than others. 'Because I wanted to' is NOT one they receive well."

"I would think not!" Kris declared. "Would you accept that answer from Rachel?"

"By the time Rachel is thirteen, she'll have a very good idea of our views. At that point, it's not my place to question her unless I believe she's in danger. She, like me, will have to confront the choice and deal with the consequences. That said, I will reserve the right to provide a single lecture if she asks for, or I discover she's on, birth control pills."

"And if you don't like the boy?"

"Consider that Deacon Vasily liked me; consider his opinion of me after I was with Tasha."

Kris laughed, "It's the boys the dads like who are the safest; it's the ones the dads don't like who are the objects of desire!"

"Rebellion?"

"I saw it quite often with my friends in Paris. The less their dad liked a boy, the more likely they were to sleep with him."

"There's also the thrill component of being with the 'bad boy'."

"You weren't the 'bad boy', and I bet the dads all liked you!"

"For the most part, yes. The only real trouble I had was with a racist dad who forbade his daughter from seeing me because I had a black friend. I bet you can deduce what happened next!"

"She started dating the black guy, right?"

"Yes. Her dad didn't know, obviously, but for her, it was sticking her thumb in her dad's eye."

"While she was being stuck with something else!"

I chuckled, "I have no direct knowledge, but I can infer that did happen."

"I'm not fishing, but what happened to that guy? Your only black friend is the student you're mentoring."

"He moved to Chicago," I replied.

"Going back to the reason we're talking, I don't know what you might do except speak to a counselor because it appears to be something internal, not external. Well, assuming you are being completely honest with me, which I believe you are."

"I am. There is nothing wrong with you or with Rachel. This is all my interior life being somewhat of a mess. I told Father Roman I don't feel as close to you as I think I should, but I'm fairly certain that's about me, not about you. I can't point to a single thing I'd want you to do differently."

"There is one good thing that that suggests."

"What?"

"That more talking isn't going to solve it, so we can spend the rest of the afternoon and the evening in bed!"

I smiled, took her hand, and led her upstairs.

January 15, 1990, McKinley, Ohio

When I arrived at the hospital early on Monday morning, I checked in with Paul Lincoln, and once the handover was complete, I retrieved the emergency medicine interview schedule from my small mailbox in the lounge. I'd already reviewed the surgical schedule, which had been in my mailbox in the surgical lounge.

Doctor Gibbs and Doctor Roth had coördinated, so there was no overlap, and I'd have four hour-long interviews in the morning and four in the afternoon. That would chew up half my day and require extra shifts or extended hours for the other Residents and for someone from Internal Medicine to cover my shifts at the clinic for a month.

I was very happy that telephone screens had reduced the candidate pool to twenty for each service. The hospital had received ninety-eight applications for surgical positions and seventy-six for emergency medicine. Those had been reviewed, and each was reduced to sixty based on grades, recommendations, MLE scores, and personal statements. Each of those sixty applicants for each service was interviewed over the phone, with twenty from each pool being invited for face-to-face interviews.

From the face-to-face interviews, we'd rank the students for the Match, including all twenty, assuming there were no disqualifications during the interview process. The Match would then assign us six for emergency medicine and five for surgery, one of which would be the new trauma surgery slot.

I liked the idea of having a say with regard to new Residents, but I didn't like the fact that I'd, in effect, be in committee meetings for four weeks. Fortunately, all we had to do was rank the candidates. The final decisions with regard to who to select and in what order rested with Doctor Roth for Surgery and, because the Chief of Emergency Medicine position was open, on Doctor Gibbs for the ED.

"You two are assigned to Bill Schmidt for the bulk of your shifts for the next month," I said to Jenny and Kelly. "I'll be interviewing prospective Residents. Doctor Schmidt will be in at 7:00am and work until 6:00pm. Paul Birch will handle surgical consults. My time between those hours is booked solid with interviews. Four in the morning, starting at 8:00am, and four in the afternoon, starting at 1:00pm."

"Do you get any breaks?" Kelly asked.

"An hour for lunch and ten minutes between interviews," I replied. "Not my idea of fun, but I do appreciate having a say in who we select. Jenny, when is your interview in Internal Medicine?"

"On Thursday."

"Where else are you interviewing, if you don't mind my asking."

"I don't. Three hospitals in Columbus and one in South Carolina, where my best friend started her Residency last July."

"You clearly don't have to answer, but how do you plan to make that decision?"

"I have no idea! I want to interview first!"

"Wise."

The two hours before the first interview were quiet, and I only needed to handle a single walk-in. Ten minutes before 7:00am, I went upstairs to the small conference room reserved for ED and surgical interviews, where I was joined by Doctor Gibbs and Ghost.

"Spanish Inquisitor time?" Ghost asked.

"Nobody expects the Spanish Inquisition!" I replied, as required in response to such a statement.

"Let's try not to scare off the candidates, please," Doctor Gibbs said.

"If they're afraid of me," I replied," they're not going to make it as doctors! I'm the easiest-going on the entire surgical team!"

"Talk about a low bar!" Doctor Gibbs teased.

"Yeah, yeah," I chuckled. "Surgeons tend to be way too uptight and too serious!"

"Says the guy in red scrubs! And didn't you see the memo that says we're supposed to do these interviews in medical coats and street clothes?"

"Something that needs to change," I replied. "When that was how the majority of doctors dressed in the hospital, it made sense. Now, only Psych requires suits and ties for men and skirts or dresses for women. Cardiology is a mix based on personal choice. It'll change."

"Do you do ANYTHING the easy way?" Doctor Gibbs asked.

"If you have to ask that question, Lor," Ghost said, "you haven't been paying attention!"

"Good point!" she replied. "Mike, do you know how many applications marked trauma surgery as an area of interest?" Doctor Gibbs inquired.

"Five of the twenty," I replied. "That was one of the reasons for putting me on both interview teams — I can do the ED evaluation for those five without having to have a second interview. All of those candidates are on the surgical list, so you won't see them."