Good Medicine - Residency II
Copyright© 2025 by Michael Loucks
Chapter 72: A Vacation
June 11, 1991, McKinley, Ohio
On Tuesday afternoon, Nate let me know that Doctor Cutter wanted to see me, so after checking with Dutch, I headed up to Doctor Cutter's office. His secretary sent me directly in, and after a gesture from Doctor Cutter, I shut the door, then sat down.
"This conversation is completely off the record," Doctor Cutter said.
"OK," I agreed.
"You didn't do yourself any favors last night."
"I'm not sure what you want me to say about that beyond the fact that everything I said is true or a defensible opinion."
"Let's just say that there are people who do not think you are a team player."
"My 'team', if you want to use that term, is the community I serve, together with my fellow medical professionals and support staff. Or, to put it another way, I'm on the side of truth and justice. Care to name those people?"
"I don't believe that would be helpful," Doctor Cutter said.
"It's very easy to throw stones anonymously; it's a far different thing to have the courage of your convictions. What is Paul Lincoln's status?"
"His records will be amended to show he resigned for personal reasons. There is literally nothing we can do about the newspaper reports stating he was dismissed for making a medical error."
"As the unwilling recipient of attention from the Press two Sundays ago, I can relate and understand. On the plus side for Paul, what are the chances anyone digs through the newspaper archives or microfiche? That was a point my attorneys made about the article referencing me. Sure, local people may remember it, but in the end, it'll disappear into the archives and library."
"That would have been my strategy as well. We did defend you, though you saw what the reporter did with our one-page statement and where he put it in the article."
"Last paragraph after all the salacious material."
"Exactly. Did Paul ask you for anything beyond your testimony?"
"I'm not sure I should answer that, even off the record," I replied.
Doctor Cutter nodded, "I understand. Will you listen to some friendly advice?"
"Yes."
"Items in a doctor's permanent record are, as that implies, permanent and can become public in the right — or wrong — circumstances. Should there be an inquiry, anything there can be exposed."
I nodded, "I understand."
"Good," Doctor Cutter said.
"May I ask your private opinion?"
"As you just said, I'm not sure I should answer that, even off the record."
"Your comment at the beginning — how much of a problem is it?" I asked.
"With the medical staff? I can't imagine anyone who doesn't agree with you on most, if not every, issue. The Administration and the Board are another thing altogether."
"Someone is going to object to hiring me as an Attending," I observed. "I need to make you aware that Dutch guaranteed an Attending spot for next June."
"He made me aware. That's not really something he can do, but given he induced you to change your Residency with that promise, it's effectively contractual, even though it's not in writing. That is going to really frost a couple of Board members."
"All things being equal, their opinions are the least of my concerns. If I understand the process, they cannot veto hiring decisions."
"Correct, though Nels Anderson could, and he is, as I'm sure you're aware, a creature of the Board. I don't foresee that happening, as it would likely cause a rebellion he couldn't control. And the Times reported, you are extremely well-liked and respected."
"And surrounded by controversy," I replied. "I noticed they failed to include the part of the hospital's statement that pointed out I was assigned pretty much every troublesome student during my clinical rotations."
"Speaking of that, did Nora Mertens tell you that Jessica Lake was offered a one-year preliminary internship contract by a free-standing clinic in Tangipahoa Parish, Louisiana?"
"She had informed me they offered an interview. I assume she accepted."
"What do you think?"
"As I said to Nora, Ms. Lake is not cut out for clinical work. She should have returned to school for a PhD and gone into research; it suited her far better."
"From her record, I'd say that's probably right. Nora mentioned you have a group of pre-med students you're mentoring."
I nodded, "Neil Stanton at Taft connected us about three years ago. I've been meeting with them once a month during the school year. Danika will be going to Stanford, but the other five will be here, and very likely all of them will try to Match here, though that's five years from now."
"I do have to say I was quite surprised that you'll be a full professor of medicine during your first year as an Attending."
"I only promised Nora I'd give it full consideration."
"Who are you kidding?" Doctor Cutter asked. "You're a natural teacher, and you love teaching."
"True."
"I'll let you get back to the ED," Doctor Cutter said. "Just remember what I said about permanent records."
I nodded, "I will."
I left his office and returned to the ED. I had, after my conversation with Clarissa, decided I couldn't provide a written recommendation, but I could, I felt, offer a verbal character reference and comment on his skills as a physician, without running the risk of a letter of recommendation being discovered in some kind of legal action. I was certain Paul would call, and I'd wait for his call.
"Do you have a moment?" I asked Leticia Jefferson.
"Sure. Let me tell my medical students. Your office?"
"The indoor one," I replied. "We actually have one!"
Two minutes later, we were in the Residents' office.
"Paul's records are being amended to state he resigned for personal reasons."
Leticia smiled, "That's very good. I assume your deposition was the straw that broke the camel's back?"
"So it would seem. I made some enemies in Administration."
"I know I can say this to you — who cares what a bunch of old white guys who are stuck in the 1950s think?"
"I understand the sentiment," I replied. "But my church is run by a bunch of old white guys who are stuck in the 450s!"
Leticia laughed, "I suppose, but isn't it true that your bishops marched with Doctor King?"
"Yes. The Greek Orthodox Archbishop of North America basically said 'enough is enough' and instructed his clergy to give their full support to the Civil Rights movement."
"What happens now?"
"Hopefully, the clinic in Detroit will hire Paul. I think getting out of this part of Ohio and having his record amended will make it possible for Paul to succeed."
"That's awesome news. Thank you for telling the truth."
"You're welcome. Remember, though, I do not believe this was about race, but about having a sacrificial lamb, and Paul drew the short straw, so to speak. With regard to you being the only black doctor in the ED, the only solution to that is to encourage more minority candidates to apply for the Match and more minorities to apply to medical school. It's you and other minority doctors who need to go into the minority communities and encourage them. I'm happy to help, but a white face is not what those kids need to see — they need to see a minority doctor who can demonstrate what is possible."
"The Civil Rights organization that is helping Paul asked me to get involved, and I agreed."
"Good. As I said, I'm happy to help in any way possible. Let's bank this win and keep working towards your goal."
"Thanks, Mike."
"You're welcome. How is Clark?"
"He's doing well, and he'll be happy with this outcome."
"Tell him I said 'hi'."
"Will do"
"Then let's get back to work!"
June 12, 1991, Circleville, Ohio
When we arrived home from Vespers at the Cathedral on Wednesday evening, the light was flashing on the answering machine. I checked the message, and it was from Paul Lincoln. I decided to return the call after we got the girls to bed, so after changing clothes, I read a bedtime story to Rachel and Charlotte, then we put them to bed. Once they were down for the night, I went to my study to return the call.
"Sorry it's late," I said. "We go to church on Wednesday evenings."
"No problem at all! Thank you."
"You're welcome."
"Was there any fallout?"
"A private conversation with John Cutter, but that was it. Some Board Members got their panties in a twist, but they don't have any say over hiring, so it won't affect my position."
"Sorry."
"Don't be. They're political hacks who threw you under the bus when literally nobody could have saved Ken Webber. Nothing any of us did caused his death. It was just one of those things, and until we develop better tests, we're going to have unexpected deaths for reasons we cannot determine. You know what happened with my wife."
"Yeah. Anyway, I was calling to see what you thought about a letter of recommendation."
"As much as I want to, I can't do that. You are a very good doctor, Paul, but if God forbid, something were to happen, I'd be hung out to dry if anyone discovered that letter. Would a phone call to the director of the clinic help?"
"I'm sure it would, but they were pushing for a letter."
"You're an intelligent man, Paul. Work out why they want that."
"To cover their asses, of course."
"Yes. Give me the number, and I'll speak to the director and vouch for your medical skills."
He provided the name and phone number, and after repeating them back to him, I promised to make the call.
"If this works, what's the plan?" I asked.
"Two years, then I'll apply for my license. Once I have that, I'm in good shape."
"Keep in touch," I said. "I'd like to know how things go."
"I will. Maybe someday we can do some volunteer work together."
"I'd like that."
After we said 'goodbye', I hung up and joined Kris in the great room.
"What did you decide to do?" Kris asked.
"I'll call and speak with the director of the clinic, but I can't put anything on paper without taking on too great a risk. You know my desire to fight injustice, but I have you and the girls to worry about."
"You know this would never have happened in a system where everyone had government healthcare."
I wanted to roll my eyes, but valued my mental and physical health far too much to do so.
"The specific fact pattern might not occur," I observed, "but someone will always be a scapegoat when the system fails. On occasion, it's someone at the Ministerial level, but mostly it would be someone at the bottom. I'd argue it would be worse as everything would be a question of politics."
"And that's worse than it being a question of money?" Kris asked.
I couldn't help but laugh.
"In YOUR desired system, it's politics and money, and in our system, it's money and politics. But the fact is, money can change things that politics never could. Here, so long as I can pay, no matter the source of the funds, I can get what I want and need. In your proposed system, no amount of money can do that, and the bureaucrat has the final say. I'd argue our system is better because it's possible to override pretty much ANY decision, including what drugs and procedures are legal, simply by going someplace they are legal."
"Only the rich can do that!" Kris protested.
"Your argument is, in effect, if everyone can't have it, nobody can," I replied. "That means the entire society is limited to that which can be provided universally. Even Europe doesn't do that, as not everyone can get into university, and yet universities exist."
"You're oversimplifying."
"So are you! History has shown that socialism is shared misery and capitalism is shared success. Does everyone share equally? No. But overall, people are better off. Now, I'll leave it to you to have the last word if you want it!"
"Sex?"
"That's a word with which I am in full agreement!"
June 15, 1991, Circleville, Ohio
On Saturday afternoon, Kris, Rachel, Charlotte, and I drove to Joel and Milena's house so Rachel could attend Abi's birthday party.
"I'm very happy you guys decided not to leave for Vermont until tomorrow," Milena said when we had a moment alone.
"Do you think Rachel would have tolerated missing Abi's birthday party?" I asked.
"You'd have been in the doghouse for sure! I can just see the mini-Elizaveta with her hands on her hips and the death stare!"
I chuckled, "My Kitten was very determined to have her way, and to bend the world to her will. Her daughter absolutely takes after her in that regard.
"What are you two conspiring about?" Kris asked, coming over to us.
"I was simply commenting that Mike knew who was in charge of his life!" Milena declared.
Kris laughed softly, "She likes to think so! Of course, it was just the two of them for more than a year, so I think it's understandable."
"How many girls will be here?" I asked.
"An even dozen, including Rachel's friends Melanie, Jennifer, and Kathy from daycare."
"Then I think we'll make our escape!" I chuckled. "We'll pick up Rachel after Vespers, if that's OK."
"I'd offer to keep her for the night, but you're leaving very early, right?"
"Around 5:00am," I replied. "That way we're at the bed-and-breakfast no later than 7:00pm."
"What's there?"
"Nothing! That's the entire point! A week to relax and decompress. It's an alternative to the monastery, and where Kris and I will be able to sleep in the same bed, which we cannot do at the monastery."
"You know, you never mentioned that. You and your wife cannot share a bed when you visit?"
"No. Any amorous activity is completely inappropriate, even kisses."
"Your church isn't prudish, at least from what I can tell."
"It's not, at least in the way you mean that, but monasteries are special, and it does make sense if you think about it."
"I suppose so. We'll see you around 8:15pm, then."
Kris, Charlotte, and I left and headed for Columbus, where we'd spend the afternoon, have dinner out, and then attend Vespers.
June 16, 1991, Apple Orchard Bed-and-Breakfast near Montpelier, Vermont
Things had gone smoothly, and we'd left the house at 4:59am on Sunday morning for our drive to Vermont. We stopped in Ashtabula for breakfast, mainly because Charlotte needed to eat, then continued through Pennsylvania into western New York. We stopped for lunch in Syracuse, and for dinner in Royalton, Vermont.
We arrived at our destination just after 7:00pm, and the girls were both cranky, despite having made three meal stops and two comfort stops along the way. Kris took the girls, and I grabbed our bags from the trunk. The four of us then made our way to the front door, where Kris rang the bell.
"Welcome!" a beautiful red-haired woman with freckles exclaimed after opening the door. "I'm Katy! Welcome to the Apple Orchard Bed-and-Breakfast!"
"Hi," I said. "Mike Loucks and Kris Korolyov and our daughters."
"You're the doctor, right?"
"Yes, but not here!" I declared. "Please just call me 'Mike'."
"I will. Come in! We have you in the Ethan Allen Suite, with a rollaway bed and a large crib. Come this way!"
She led us up a wide sweeping staircase and down the hall to what I suspected was the former master bedroom of the converted farmhouse. I chuckled at the names of some of the rooms, but had to ask a question.
"OK, I understand Calvin Coolidge and Chester A. Arthur," I said, "but Rudyard Kipling?"
"He lived in Brattleboro, Vermont, when he wrote The Jungle Book."
"I had no idea!" I exclaimed. "What are the others named?"
"Admiral Dewey, after George Dewey, the only man to ever achieve the rank of Admiral of the Navy, and Maria von Trapp, which I hope is obvious."
"They have a resort hotel somewhere here in Vermont, right?"
"Yes, in Stowe, though Maria died about four years ago. The original lodge was destroyed by fire about ten years ago, and the new one, which opened in 1983, has seventy-three rooms."
"How far is Stowe from here?" I asked.
"About thirty minutes north. Let me explain our amenities, then I'll leave you in peace. Breakfast is served each morning between 7:00am and 9:00am, and is served family style. If you have any dietary restrictions, we can accommodate."
"None of us do," I said.
"OK. There are always apples available in bowls on the tables in the great room, where we have a fire whenever the temperature is below 60°F, so we'll likely have one each evening. After 7:00pm, we have apple pie and maple ice cream available. For lunch and dinner, there are a number of country inns, ski lodges, diners, and restaurants in a twenty-five-mile radius, so you'll have plenty of options. There are lists of local attractions in binders in the great room, as well as in the center desk drawer in your room.
"You'll also see Emma, who works Thursdays through Mondays, and Laurie, who comes in on Tuesdays to clean. Guests change their own bed linens, and we do laundry as needed. There are three sets of linens in the wardrobe, along with a laundry bag. If you need personal items washed, just ask, and I'll show you how to use the commercial-size machines, similar to what you'd find in a laundromat, albeit without the coin slots. Any questions?"
"None from me," I replied. "Kris?"
"None from me, either."
"Good. Then I'll leave you in peace. If you need anything, just find me. If it's after hours, there's an intercom in the kitchen that connects to a matching unit in my room."
"Sounds good. Thanks!"
"Enjoy your stay!"
"I'm positive we will."
She left, and Kris, Rachel, and I unpacked our things, including the portable diptych we would use for morning and evening prayers.
"I think we should get the girls to bed right away," I said. "Shall we say an abbreviated form of our prayers and do that?"
"Yes," Kris agreed.
We did that, got the girls into their beds, then turned off all but the reading lamp and went downstairs to the great room to relax for a bit before going to bed. There were three couples there, and we all introduced ourselves. One couple, a lawyer and his wife, was from Boston; one couple, an investment banker and his wife, was from New York City; and one couple, a university professor and his wife who worked for the State Department, was from Virginia.
"What is your specialty?" Josh, the university professor who taught international relations at Georgetown, asked.
"Emergency medicine, with a focus on trauma," I replied.
"A friend's wife is a Resident in trauma surgery, though she's in Chicago."
"Jessica Adams?" I asked
Josh laughed, "There is just NO way! Seriously? From THAT, you got her name?!"
"I met her at Indiana University when I interviewed for medical school, though she was Jessica Wilton then. I'm sure you know Al Barton, too."
"Of course! Small world!"
"Mary, what do you do for the State Department?"
"I'm on the Soviet Desk, which I'm sure you can imagine is a bit crazy at the moment."
"«В этом я нисколько не сомневаюсь, товарищ!» (V etom ya niskol'ko ne somnevayus', tovarishch!)" I said with a smirk. ("Of that, I have no doubt at all, Comrade!")
"«Вы говорите по-русски?!» (Vy govorite po-russki?!)" ("You speak Russian?!")
"I do," I replied in English for the sake of the other couples. "Kris speaks it even better. My mother's maiden name is Borodin."
"Kris, from your accent, I was sure you were French," Mary observed.
"I am. My family is originally from Russia, but they escaped the Soviet Union and settled in Paris. We only emigrated to the US a few years ago. I met Mike and Rachel, and we decided to start a family together."
"If you know Jessica and Al, you must know Steve Adams," Mary said. "He's part-owner of this place."
I laughed, "Seriously? I've never met him, but he and I have traveled in some of the same circles. I'm sure you know his friend Jorge."
"Yes, of course! How do you know him?"
"A pair of interesting coincidences — Jorge interviewed at William Howard Taft in McKinley, Ohio, where I completed my undergrad degree, and then I met him by chance in the Chicago Loop. Do you know Dona Bingham, by any chance?"
Both Mary and Josh laughed.
"Steve dated her for a time in High School."