Chapter 11: Tasha’s Story

June 10, 1981, West Monroe, Ohio

"OK, now I am SERIOUSLY worried about going to church on Saturday!" I laughed as I put the car in gear.

"And why is that Mishka Petrovich?" Tasha asked with a small laugh.

"Your dad told me it was OK to take you for ice cream after dinner without me asking. I swear if I come into church on Saturday for Vespers and the table is there with the crowns..."

I was laughing, and so was Tasha.

"And being married to me would be so terrible?" she asked with fake insult.

"Saturday? Yes! Ask me in a few years!"

"I'm not asking! YOU think my FATHER is asking."

"Or planning," I chuckled.

"You're not far off," she laughed. "You know he hopes I marry the day after I receive my diploma. But that's not MY plan, Mike. I haven't even started my Sophomore year. Don't worry. If he's so enamored with you, let HIM marry you!"

"I don't think the Church would allow that," I said with a straight face. "Well, not without a divorce first."

"Or with one! You know the opinion of the church on THAT."

I shrugged, "I do. But, like anything else, it's not my business. I'll have to treat patients who are homosexual. I can't turn anyone away. No matter what. I have to give my word, and you know what that means."

"I do. It's just difficult to think of such perversions."

I was torn on the matter. I knew the position of the 'One, Holy, Catholic, and Apostolic Church', but I also wondered if homosexuals actually chose that lifestyle. I'd read competing opinion pieces in one of the medical journals at the library that had made me stop to think. But in the end, it didn't matter. What mattered was that, as a doctor, I had to help anyone who needed help to the best of my ability. I couldn't pay attention to politics, race, religion, sexual orientation, and, except for medical necessity, gender. And that had to override any personal opinions I had on the matter. Or on abortion, for that matter.

I knew the medical school at Dorothea Rhodes Lummis Moore Memorial Hospital in McKinley allowed medical students to opt out of performing abortions, but I had real trouble with not learning a procedure that I might need to use to save someone's life, no matter how offensive I personally found it. That said, I STILL wasn't convinced I could participate in elective abortions. And that would make training impossible. But I had six years to think about it.

"And yet," I said, "as sinful as it might be, God loves them as much as he loves you and me, Tasha."

"True. But perhaps we should speak of something else."

"I agree. I'm sorry I made the coarse joke. Forgive me?"

"I actually made it! I can be silly, Mike!" Tasha laughed. "Please don't treat me like some delicate flower or fragile little girl! My father may have me in a glass cage, but I have the keys!"

I laughed, "Just don't tell Deacon Vasily that!"

"Never! May I tell you something?"

"Of course."

"I'm a normal teenager, just like you are. Why do you think my mom has to keep reminding me of how to behave? My little sister gets the same lectures, and she's thirteen. And so do all the girls in my mom's Sunday School class! Believe it or not, I get into trouble at home!"

I laughed, "And here I thought you were a 'goody two-shoes' just like me."

"I AM!" she laughed. "But you get in trouble with your parents, too, right?"

"Yes. I think it's normal for teenagers. We all have to rebel just a bit to show we're in control of our lives. Even if we really aren't."

"Of course! But I think you and I get in trouble for far less than the average teenager."

"Probably," I said.

"So, seriously, would it be so bad being married to me?"

Considering the main immediate benefit — sex without having to go to confession — the answer was a resounding 'no!'. But the practicality of the matter was that I couldn't afford a wife. I was barely going to be able to afford college and medical school, and I'd have to borrow a bunch of money to finish.

"Whatever else I might think, it's not practical, and you know it! First of all, you need to be eighteen, though it wouldn't surprise me if your dad would sign the papers for you to marry at sixteen!"

"True," she laughed. "So answer the question, please!"

"No, it would NOT be terrible being married to you when the time is right!"

"So, do you want to know what boys are good for?" she teased.

I'd tried really hard to think of what she was going to say, and I knew that she would never say anything risqué, so that meant it would either have to be something obvious or silly. I chose the answer that met both criteria.

"Nothing!" I chuckled.

"You!" she spat. "You took away my joke!"

"I do have a brain, you know!"

"And so do I," she said.

"I never thought you didn't!" I protested.

"No, you don't. But sometimes, my parents treat me like I don't have one. That I can't think for myself."

That was, in effect, the same complaint that Liz had. I'd never really had that problem with my mom or dad, and I wondered what the difference was between me and Liz. The only thing I could think of was our attitudes. Sure, my parents were a bit more protective of Liz because she was a girl, but that was fairly normal in our church. I wondered how I would deal with that issue when I eventually had kids. That was something else I had a LONG time to think about.

"I think our parents have a tough time seeing us as adults. In one sense, they see an eighteenth birthday as a magic day, but in reality, it isn't. Neither is turning twenty-one, for that matter. Or sixteen when we can get our driver's licenses. I'm eighteen and could go out totally on my own, but my parents still treat me like a kid sometimes. I'm sure I'll have the same struggle."

"Why?"

"Because I think my parents want to protect me, and I'll want to protect my kids. Just like your parents want to protect you and your sister. I think it's natural."

"And how I'll want to protect our kids?" she giggled.

"Cute," I laughed as I pulled into a parking spot at Marie's Diner.

I helped Tasha out of the car, and we went inside. We ordered right away, and the waitress brought our drinks.

"Tasha, all kidding aside, what do you want from me?" I asked.

"Now? Or later?"

"Both, I guess."

"Now? To be my friend. To visit me sometimes after you go to college."

"And later?"

"I think you know the answer at this point. But it's a matter of being practical."

"Assume I'm clueless," I said with a smile.

"I don't believe I have to assume!" she teased.

"I walked right into that one, didn't I?"

"Yes! It's the same thing I wanted when I was thirteen and have ever since. To marry you and have children and grandchildren. And raise a faithful Orthodox family."

I was rocked back in the bench seat of the booth. I actually WAS clueless.

"Seriously?" I gasped, incredulous.

"Why is that so hard to believe, Mike? You would have known if only you had spoken two words to me before you graduated. I'm not asking you to marry me on my sixteenth birthday, as much as my dad would like. I'm practical. I'm not pressuring you, either. Did I complain about you going out on dates with your sister's friend?"

"No," I said, trying to control my heartbeat and breathing.

"And I know you can't support a wife anytime soon. May I ask a question?"

I nodded, "Sure."

"Again, please don't freak out, but would it be possible to go to medical school while you were married? If your wife worked?"

I nodded, "Sure. I have to warn you that a medical student has to study almost constantly. And when I graduate, I'd be working VERY long shifts. When I had my campus tour at WHTU, they took all the pre-med students to Moore Memorial Hospital and had us talk to Interns and Residents so we understood what we were signing up for. Thirty-six-hour shifts, usually two per week, plus an additional twenty-four hours, either in one shift or two. That's for the entire first year. Then, twenty-four-hour shifts for the second year. THEN it calms down to twelve-hour shifts, but they can be overnight, on weekends, whenever. They warned us that a lot of doctors end up divorced because of that."

"Why is it so terrible? Isn't that dangerous for patients?"

"It sure seems like it to me," I said. "And privately, one of the Interns told us that patients are injured or even die because doctors are tired."

"What?! That's horrible!"

"One of the Residents told us that they aren't considered 'real' doctors until they're responsible for someone dying because of a mistake."

"No!"

"Yes," I sighed. "One of the doctors who teaches at the medical school told us, as part of his session, that we have to be prepared for patients to die because of things we do, and if we don't think we can handle that, we should find another career."

"Wow. And you're OK with that?"

I shrugged, "Does it matter? I've known I wanted to be a doctor since fourth grade. Did you hear that story?"

She shook her head, "No. I mean, I know something happened that got your name in the paper."

"It was when I was in fourth grade. A girl in my class got hurt on the playground. I saw she was bleeding badly, so I took off my shirt and put pressure on the wound like I'd seen on Emergency! on TV. The ambulance guys said I helped save her life. It was such a cool feeling I decided I wanted to do that as my job."

"You really saved a girl's life?"

"That's what they said. Her parents took me to a Reds game as a 'thank you'. They moved to Cincinnati a couple of years after that. And my name was in the paper as a student who 'through quick thinking helped save the life of his classmate'."

"And you're so compelled to do it that you'll put up with all of that stuff?"

"Do you think Father Herman likes the bad parts of his job?"

"No. I know he doesn't. I hear my dad talk to my mom about it."

"But do you think he knew before he decided to go to seminary?"

"I guess."

"He did. I talked to him about it when I was applying to colleges for pre-med. He said he felt called to be a priest, and he couldn't do anything else. That's me, though, for attending medical school to be a doctor, not seminary. And that's what you would have to sign up for, Tasha. There wouldn't be any negotiation or compromise because it wouldn't be up to me."

"And when you finish your training?"

"A life of being on-call and being at the hospital a lot, though not those kinds of shifts like during training. But it would be a fulfilling, rewarding life which also happened to pay very well."

"Not to sound like a greedy person, but how much does a doctor like that make?"

"It depends on the hospital, but perhaps $75,000 a year in a small hospital to $120,000 a year in a major trauma center."

"You're joking!"

I shook my head, "No. But that's after four years of medical school, which I have to pay for by borrowing money, and it's not cheap. And then a year of Internship with almost no pay. Then, two or three years of being a Resident at relatively low pay. Then, a two-year Fellowship, which pays a little better. That's ten years before you can even begin to earn that kind of money. And I'll have a huge debt from medical school."

"I didn't realize how difficult it was," she said.

"Have you changed your mind?" I asked.

"No, but now I wonder about the timing."

"That's why when anyone asks about it, I always say it's difficult to think about. I know lots of people get married in their early twenties, but for me, I'd have to count the cost, and so would the girl. And it's awfully high."

She nodded, "I see your point. I'm sorry; I didn't mean to seem like I was pushing."

"You weren't. You told me how you feel. And despite me being so negative, trust me, the thought of being married to you is pretty enticing!"

Tasha laughed, "So, a thousand words to answer a simple question! Maybe you should be a lawyer instead of a doctor!"

"Kill me now!" I laughed. "No chance."

"I didn't scare you, did I?"

"No. Not at all. I know you were just telling me how you felt. And it's better to get that out in the open."

"Do you know why I told you?" she asked.

I shook my head, "Obviously not if you have to ask that question."

"So you don't find a girl in McKinley without knowing there's one here for you. I was afraid you would go away, and we wouldn't see each other enough, and three or five or however many years from now, you'd bring a girl home to talk to Father Herman, and you would never have known how I felt."

"Keeping your place in line?" I grinned.

"I guess you could call it that, yes."

"You know, I don't think that sounded right. Staking your claim? That doesn't sound right, either. But I know what you mean. And you were right; I was clueless and had no idea. I'm glad you told me."

Well, it wasn't true that I had 'no' idea. Liz had told me Monday night, but I hadn't been entirely sure she was right. Now I was. The question was, what did it mean? Tasha acknowledged I wasn't ready to get married soon, and now she knew just what she'd have to sign up for. Heck, I had second thoughts after that campus visit, but by the time I'd gone back to talk to the counselor a month later to confirm my course of study, I'd decided that even with all of that, I HAD to do it.

Our food arrived, and after I said a blessing, we started eating.

"What classes do you have to start with?" Tasha asked.

"Biology, which has a lab; chemistry, which has a lab; calculus; a writing course; and a seminar where we deal with any issues that arise in our studies. It's kind of like an ongoing guidance counseling course."

"What is your major? Pre-med?"

"No. Biochemistry. You can major in anything, really, though you have to take lots of biology and chemistry to be able to pass the MCAT, which is the test for getting into medical school. You could even do math, so long as you had a minor in biology and took chemistry. I suppose you could even major in humanities or something, so long as you took all the science courses, but biology, biochemistry, and chemistry are the usual ones. I think biochemistry gives me the best chances."

"And you're working, too?"

"Yes. And I'll be practicing karate, too. I'm going to be very busy! I won't have much time to get into trouble!"

Tasha laughed, "Good!"

"I was thinking of applying to be an RA when I'm a Junior. That would let me have free room and board."

"An RA?"

"Resident Advisor. It's like a student counselor in the dorm. If I could do that, it would save me about $6,000, which would make a HUGE difference during medical school. I can't really work for the last two years of medical school because I'll be doing hospital and other rotations. That $6,000 would be enough to replace my work income for two years."

"Have you worked out your finances that closely?"

I smiled, "Who sets out to build a tower without first counting the cost?"

She laughed, "Silly me, of course. You pay attention to Father Herman's homilies."

"Think what would happen if I got halfway through medical school and had no way to pay for the rest of it?"

"That would be horrible!"

"Exactly. I've had to map out the next eight years of my life very carefully. Obviously, things could change, but you see why I have to focus the way I do?"

"Yes, I do now. I had no idea."

I smiled, "Neither did I when I was in fourth grade! I discovered all of these things long after I decided to become a doctor."