Chapter 62: There’s Hope For You Yet!

August 1, 1987, Greater Cincinnati, Ohio

“How was your first day?” Elizaveta asked when I walked into the bedroom after arriving at Doctor Cooper’s house.

“Good. We saw six patients, two who were pregnant and four who were there for their regular gynecological exams. I’m going to change, then we should go to lunch.”

“Will you wear your cassock here?”

“No. I’m treating this like home, so I’ll wear shorts and t-shirts, or sweats, depending on how warm the house is. They keep the A/C above ‘freezer’, so most likely shorts. I have my ryassa if Maryam were to come by.”

“Where is she living?”

“In Mariemont, which is just south of here. It’s maybe fifteen minutes, but it’s back roads, so it’s not that far mileage-wise.”

I hung up my medical coat and removed my cassock, and hung it up.

“Also, Doctor Cooper changed my schedule,” I said. “She has me in the hospital on Wednesdays and Fridays, 6:00am to 6:00pm.”

I removed my slacks and hung them up as well.

“Why?” Elizaveta asked.

“Because I insisted I wanted actual training, and to be able to assist in actual procedures. Otherwise, I’d just have been in the hospital for one shift on Mondays, with the rest of the time doing regular exams. Now I have Sundays and Mondays free, though I’ll be on call. That adds about twelve hours to my work week.”

“Not counting any overtime for babies being born!”

“As Doctor Roth pointed out, I’m paying for the privilege of working,” I chuckled, pulling on my shorts. “How was your morning?”

“I read, then chatted with Annette. I also called Tasha to confirm she’ll be here on Monday morning. I also spoke with Lara, who will come to visit on Tuesday. And I confirmed everything with Alyssa and Serafima starting next Monday evening.”

“You’re in very good hands!”

“I like your hands!” she giggled.

“Which is what got us into this situation in the first place!”

“It wasn’t your hand, ‘Doctor’! And we’ll make sure it happens again!”

“Already thinking of baby number two?”

“Of making baby number two! That’s the one serious downside to being this pregnant!”

“We’ll have plenty of opportunities once you recover from giving birth.”

“You aren’t frustrated?”

“Not in the least! I’m very happy with the situation, Kitten. Before the end of the month, I’m going to get to hold my baby daughter in my arms! Now, shall we go have lunch?”

“Yes.”

We ate lunch with Doctor Cooper and her family, then decided to take a walk. There weren’t any sidewalks, so we carefully walked along the shoulder of the road facing the oncoming traffic.

“So what did you say to Doctor Cooper?”

“I simply challenged her to teach me. Doctor Roth, Doctor Strong, Doctor Gibbs, and Doctor Gabriel all encouraged me to be aggressive and push.”

“Was that risky?”

“Not really. The worst thing that could have happened was that I was treated like a typical Third Year. And this rotation is probably the least important of all of them.”

“Even more than pediatrics or psychiatry?”

“Pediatrics is important because we’ll see kids in the ER, and there are differences in how kids are treated from adults. Psychiatry isn’t important in terms of my Match, but it’s important to me, because I think I’ll be involved in Angie’s care for the rest of our lives.”

“You want to keep her out of a mental hospital, right?”

“Yes. And she’ll need a strong advocate for that given that’s the default solution.”

“That just seems wrong!”

“I agree. And so does Doctor Mercer, which is why Angie’s mom sought her out to counter the drug-based solutions from the psychiatrists.”

“So what kinds of things will you do during your hospital shifts?”

“I’ll assist with anything handled by the OB/GYN service — labor and delivery, C-sections, other gynecological surgery, patients with difficult pregnancies, and so on. And of course, checking on patients before and after procedures, and doing rounds.”

“You don’t really do rounds in the ER, right?’

“That’s right. Basically, it’s just handing over patients from one doctor to another, either when I go off shift or when they’re admitted.”

“I don’t think I could deal with not knowing what happened to them.”

“It’s compensated by the adrenaline rush of making a save and knowing you kept a person from dying.”

“We should turn back,” Elizaveta said. “I’m getting tired so much quicker.”

“All to be expected,” I replied. “Let’s walk to the apex of the curve just ahead so we can safely cross to walk back on the other side.”

We did that and were once again safely walking against traffic on the shoulder of the road.

“Did you know that there’s a pool in the backyard?” Elizaveta asked.

“No.”

“Annette showed me. They have a tennis court as well. Her mom and dad both play, as does she.”

“Doctor and lawyer, they certainly have sufficient income for it!” I declared.

“It would be nice to have a pool when we build a house.”

“Above-ground, right?”

“Yes. Like ours, with a nice deck around it. And with a locking gate, it’ll keep it safe for the kids to be in the backyard.”

“Until they can climb it,” I chuckled. “We should start them with swimming lessons at the Y as soon as they’re old enough.”

“Absolutely.”

“And, remember, I want a sauna, too. The steam room at the medical school was really helpful.”

“Who has one?”

“The Malenkovs. I used it a few times, and that’s what made me think about the steam room. It does wonders, though you can’t be in one at this point, because you don’t want to get overheated.”

“I’m ALWAYS overheated around you, Mike!” Elizaveta giggled. “And that’s YOUR fault!”

“If you think I’m going to apologize for that, you’re mistaken!” I chuckled.

“I don’t want you to!” Elizaveta declared. “You know, I should have asked — what are we doing for dinner?”

“I think we’ll eat after Vigil,” I replied. “Doctor Cooper said dinner on Saturdays is usually around 7:00pm, and we’ll be at Saint George.”

“It’ll be weird not having Matins in the morning before Liturgy.”

“I believe Saint George follows the practice of praying Little Hours before Liturgy. I have to be there early enough to say the entry prayers with Father Stephen. I’ll ask him what time when we’re there tonight.”

“Where will we eat?”

“I’m sure there’s a diner in Loveland. We can ask Father Stephen.”

“OK.”

August 2, 1987, Greater Cincinnati, Ohio

“You don’t eat at all?” Annette asked on Sunday morning.

“We fast from midnight until the Eucharist,” I replied. “Though Elizaveta has «ekonomia», what you would call ‘dispensation’, because she’s pregnant.”

“We just have to finish eating an hour before Mass.”

I really wanted to say that Rome had become lax, but I didn’t want to pick a fight, and she was following her bishop’s direction. At that point, it was in Bishop JOHN’s court, not mine. I could discuss why we did things differently, but not be critical of her practice. That said, I could say what Orthodox usually said in such circumstances.

“We follow the older tradition,” I replied.

“Mom said you guys don’t eat meat on Wednesdays and Fridays the entire year.”

“Almost,” I replied. “There are periods when we don’t fast, and it’s actually no animal products, though shellfish is OK.”

“Like no eggs or milk?”

“Correct. But that’s the guidelines. Individuals work out with their spiritual father what their rule is. In our case, it’s modified, like the rule about fasting before Liturgy, because Elizaveta is pregnant.”

“Why so strict?”

I smiled, “As I said, it’s the older tradition. I could ask you why yours is so lax, but so long as you follow what your bishop says, it’s nobody’s business except yours and your bishop’s.”

“You mean the Pope?”

“That’s a whole other conversation,” I replied. “Technically, it would be Bishop Daniel Pilarczyk, the Archbishop of Cincinnati. My bishop is His Grace JOHN, and his cathedral is in Columbus. You know, I didn’t ask, but what church do you attend?”

“Saint Andrew’s in Milford. You went to church last night, the same as we did. Why go again today? Are you required because you’re a deacon?”

“Last night was the Vigil, which is a combination of Vespers and Matins. I don’t believe those are normally done in Roman Catholic parishes, but I think they’re still done in your monasteries and convents. This morning we’re going to the Divine Liturgy, which is similar to your Mass. We also go to services on Wednesday night, which is usually Vespers. And, of course, we have Feast days, which are similar to your Holy Days of Obligation.”

“You know an awful lot about our church.”

“I teach Sunday School and I’m a catechist.”

“What’s that?”

“A teacher who guides new members who are converting to Orthodoxy. You have a similar program called «Ordo Initiationis Christianae Adultorum», though you probably have heard it called the Rite of Christian Initiation of Adults, or RCIA. We simply call it catechism.”

“You know Latin?” Annette asked, sound incredulous. “Why?”

“I studied it in High School and in college because I was planning to be a doctor. I also, on my own, studied Biblical Greek. Latin and Greek terms are very common in medicine, and Greek also helps because the Scriptures were written in Greek. Well, Hebrew for the Old Testament, but the canonical texts are in Greek. I’m happy to discuss this more with you in the future, but we need to leave for church.”

“OK.”

Elizaveta and I left the house and got into my car. I used the pushbutton to open the gate and then headed for the church in Loveland. We arrived early, as planned, so that I could pray the entry prayers with Father Stephen. Maryam arrived early to stay with Elizaveta, and as Father Stephen and I performed the Proskomide, I saw Angie come into the nave.

Three hours later, Father Stephen and I joined the congregation in the parish hall for lunch. Angie sat down with Elizaveta, Maryam, and me.

“How are you doing, Ang?” I asked.

“I’m OK. I needed my medication adjusted again, and so I was kind of out of it for a few days two weeks ago. Will you be here for every service?”

“A lot depends on if there are women who are close to term, which means within two weeks. If there are, I have to be close enough to get to the hospital in an hour from when I’m paged. If not, then I’ll try to go home to see Elizaveta on Sundays and Mondays and I’ll serve liturgy at Saint Michael the Archangel. If that doesn’t work, then we’ll meet at my grandparents’ house on Sunday afternoon, at least next week. After that, it’s iffy, because Elizaveta isn’t supposed to be more than fifteen minutes from home.”

“But you’ll be with her when your baby is born, right?”

“Absolutely! That’s already been arranged. I’ll have a few days off, and once she feels up to it, Elizaveta will come to stay with me again, with the baby. We cleared that with the doctor I’m staying with.”

“She has help, right?”

“Yes. From Tasha and Doctor Blahnik, who I’m sure you remember, plus two young women from church, her mom, her sister-in-law, and my grandparents. But only as she wants them.”

“Mostly, I just want to be with my baby,” Elizaveta declared. “Serafima and Alyssa, the girls from church Deacon mentioned, will take turns staying overnight with me, and Tasha will be there with her baby during the mornings.”

“Deacon,” Maryam said, “I had a call last night from Doctor Lane. She said I’ll be at the hospital with you on Wednesdays and Fridays, instead of my previous schedule. She said it was something you asked for.”

“Not directly,” I replied. “I asked Doctor Cooper for more teaching and training, and she changed my schedule. I also mentioned to her that I hoped you would receive the same treatment. I hope that’s OK.”

“Yes, it is. Doctor Lane seemed very surprised at the request, but she didn’t object. Thank you.”

“You’re welcome. It appears Doctor Roth was right about being assertive and basically insisting on changes to the way things have always been done.”

“I hope you don’t have those views about the church, Deacon!” Mr. Andreyev said, coming up to where we were sitting.

“No!” I declared firmly. “The one completely stable thing in my life is the church, and the last thing I want to do is innovate or change anything!”

“Good! My wife and I would like you to join us for dinner one night this week, if you’re available.”

“I have to defer to Matushka, as she easily tires.”

“It’s OK, Deacon,” Elizaveta said, using my title as was proper when speaking with someone from church. “We’d love to, Mr. Andreyev.”

“What evening would be good?” he asked.

“Either Tuesday or Thursday,” I replied. “Elizaveta will be here until next Monday.”

“Let’s plan on Thursday, then. Let me write down the address.”

He did and handed me the slip of paper.

“We’ll eat at 6:30pm,” he said. “Feel free to arrive anytime after 5:00pm.”

“Thank you,” I said.

“Thank you,” Elizaveta replied.

He left, and we returned to eating and chatting with our friends.

“I take it you know them?” Angie asked.

“Yes. He’s friends with my grandfather. Of course, I think every Orthodox man over fifty within a five-hundred-mile radius is friends with my grandfather, and plenty outside of that radius, too.”

“The same is true for my grandfathers,” Elizaveta added. “For example, they know Lara’s grandfathers.”

“All the old Syrian and Lebanese men know each other as well,” Maryam said. “They see each other at the Parish Life Conferences held every year, or the Archdiocesan conventions held every two years.”

“Maryam, what do you think about that group of former Evangelical Protestants who were received into your church?” Elizaveta asked.

Maryam smiled, “I think it’s good. The most important thing it’s done is increase the amount of English being used in our parishes. And the Archdiocese is developing a new Liturgy book so that things are consistent in every parish. There’s pushback, according to my dad, but I think Metropolitan Philip is right — we’re Americans, not Syrian or Lebanese. And I’m pretty sure Deacon agrees, because he makes the point of being an American, not a Russian, and believing English should be used for all the services.”

“I do make one exception,” I said, “and that is for the memorial services done at the request of the older members of the parish who want them in the traditional Slavonic. But those are happening less often simply by, well, attrition.”

“I’m very happy everything here is in English,” Angie said. “I don’t think I could do what Clarissa did and learn Russian! I looked at a book at the library and it’s even more complicated than Spanish or French!”

“Deacon knows,” Elizaveta said with a smirk. “He has serious trouble declining nouns, pronouns, and adjectives.”

“Because you have to freaking memorize which ones decline which way!” I protested. “We don’t do that in English, except with pronouns, and those are simple. If you speak Russian regularly, starting as a toddler, that comes naturally. At this point, it’s a struggle!”

“Decline?” Jacob, one of the teens who had sat down at our table, asked.

“It’s like conjugation, only for subjects and objects, rather than verbs,” I replied. “The only things we decline in English are pronouns — he, his, him; she, hers, her; who, whom. That last one is quickly dying off, though. Oh, and we do decline for number — plurals add s, es, or ies. But English has no sense of gender for nouns in terms of grammar, so we don’t have that to worry about the way French, Spanish, Russian, and other languages do.”

“You haven’t had a foreign language?” Elizaveta asked.

“No, Matushka,” he replied. “I’ll start Spanish in the Fall. I’ll be a Junior, and colleges want two years of a foreign language.”

“It’s too bad our school doesn’t offer Chinese,” Lydia, another of the teens who had sat down with us, said. “I think that’s going to be very important in the future. I mean, there are over a billion people living in China!”

“There would have to be some serious changes in China for Chinese to truly matter on the world stage,” Jacob countered. “French is in decline as a second language, but Spanish is the first language of around four hundred million people, including at least twenty-five million Americans and most of our neighbors to the south, the main exception being Brazil, where they speak Brazilian Portuguese.”

“And there is a smattering of French, English, Dutch, and several creoles,” I said. “Haiti, Jamaica, Bermuda, and the Netherlands Antilles, to name a few. And, Lydia, I’m sure you could study Chinese in college.”

“That’s what I want to do,” she replied. “And then be an interpreter, or maybe earn a degree in international relations.”

Elizaveta and I finished our lunch, and because she tired so easily, we excused ourselves, asked Father Stephen for his blessing, then headed back to Doctor Cooper’s house so Elizaveta could take a nap.

August 3, 1987, Greater Cincinnati, Ohio

“Hi, Tasha!” I said when she arrived at the house early on Monday morning, just after breakfast.

“Hi, Deacon! I thought you would be at the hospital.”

“Doctor Cooper changed my schedule to increase the amount of time I’ll be at the hospital, which increased my hours, so now I have both Sunday and Monday off, unless a baby decides to be born.”

“Yours, soon! Where’s Elizaveta?”

“Just finishing her shower,” I replied. “Where’s Larisa?”

“With my mom. She’s starting to toddle, and she’s VERY curious. I want to be able to spend time with Elizaveta without having to chase a toddler around! Soon enough, though, she’ll have a playmate!”

“Why do I see trouble ahead?” I asked with a wry smile.

Tasha looked around, then smirked, “Because you’re afraid our daughters will be like me and they’ll meet young men like you!”

“Every dad’s fear,” I chuckled.

“Yes, of course! Well, my dad wanted me to meet a man like him, and you saw how well THAT worked out!”

“Does Nik see Larisa at all?”

“Once every two weeks, he visits and spends a few hours with her. I have full custody, so I get to decide.”

“How is your sister?”

Tasha rolled her eyes, “Pregnant again. I believe she and Timmy are being foolish!”

“Any change with your inquirer friend?”

“He spoke to Father Alexi about becoming a catechumen. I believe he has an ulterior motive!”

“You’re still the most beautiful girl at Holy Transfiguration!”

“What happened to ‘most beautiful girl you know’? Hmm?”

“He prefers to stay alive!” Elizaveta giggled as she came to join us.

“What my wife said!” I grinned.

“Sorry, Matushka,” Tasha said. “I was being silly.”

“It’s OK, Tasha,” Elizaveta said. “And when it’s just the three of us, please call me Elizaveta. I know Mike would prefer you called him Mike.”