Chapter 19: I Can’t Think of a Better Reason

May 2, 1986, Great and Holy Friday, McKinley, Ohio

On Friday morning, Elizaveta and I rose at our usual time, ran our usual route through the neighborhood, showered, and then had a light breakfast. We left for church about the time Elizaveta would normally have left for school. When we arrived, Elias was lighting the oil lamps. Father Nicholas arrived just after we did, and he and I said our entry prayers. Our local tradition for serving The Hours was to wear our cassocks plus our stoles — for me, my orar and for Father Nicholas, his epitrachil. Once we’d donned those, I prepared the censer and carried it and its stand out of the altar to the nave.

Mark and Alyssa arrived a few minutes later, and I confirmed with them, Elias, and Serafima that they would be present at church overnight to supervise the vigil around the tomb. I then double-checked with the lead chanter and choir director that they were ready, then took my place next to Father Nicholas to wait for the appointed time.

The services for the day proceeded according to plan — the First, Third, Sixth, and Ninth Hours being served at 7:00am, 9:00am, noon, and 3:00pm. Strictly speaking, the First Hour should have been at 6:00am, but Father Nicholas always delayed it until 7:00am to improve attendance. After the ninth hour, Elizaveta and I went home for a quick bite to eat, before returning to the church for Vespers and Lamentations, my two favorite services of the year.

Clarissa and Sophia joined us, as did Robby, who was in a wheelchair, because he could neither walk nor stand for a significant amount of time. I’d only seen Robby once during the week due to my busy schedule, but after Pascha, I’d return to my daily visits, except for Sundays. He was planning to attend the hearing for Frank Bush on Monday, which meant I didn’t have to attend, but I would, because I wanted to see for myself exactly how the situation between Frank and Nadine played out.

When the Lamentations service ended, Elizaveta and I waited until the readers began chanting the Psalms, then headed home so we could get to bed, given Saturday was going to be a long day, and we had to be up early.

May 3, 1986, Great and Holy Saturday, McKinley, Ohio

On Saturday morning, Elizaveta and I rose early, dressed, and headed to church. We didn’t eat breakfast, as there was a liturgy later in the morning, but our first task on arriving at the church was to move the horse trough, which we used as a baptismal font, into the nave where some of the teens were continuing to read Psalms, something they would do until the start of the Vesperal Divine Liturgy. We’d be using the longer form, created by Saint Basil the Great, rather than the usual shorter form of Saint John Chrysostom, as we did on some feast days.

Once the trough was in place, I opened a window, then went outside and fed a hose through the open window, and Elizaveta placed it in the trough. Once she signaled she was ready, I turned on the spigot. When the trough was full, I turned off the water, then carefully withdrew the hose from the window, with Elizaveta making sure that no water spilled.

Mark and Alyssa arrived, together with her parents, who would be chrismated and received into the church following the Hymn of the Three Youths, which followed the Old Testament lessons. The Epistle and Gospel for baptism were identical to the ones which were read for the Vespers portion of the Holy Saturday Vesperal Divine Liturgy, following the ancient tradition of baptism occurring on Holy Saturday.

The service was long, made even longer by the two baptisms, and when it finished, Elizaveta and I headed home for a light meal and nap while Viktor and two other men took care of draining the water from the trough and moving it from the nave. After Elizaveta and I napped, we prepared our Pascha basket, then I studied while Elizaveta did homework.

I had two quizzes which I would have to make up, one on Wednesday at lunch and one on Friday at lunch. Clarissa had brought her notes with her after class on Friday, and there had been little more than what was in the textbook, though I had missed a physical exam practice session, I wouldn’t lose credit because I had a religious accommodation. And as always, I learned more in the four hours, six for surgery, of my Preceptorships than I did in any class since we’d finished our cadaver lab.

Just before 10:00pm we put away our homework, dressed, and then left the cottage, carrying our Pascha basket. We drove to church, and I helped Elias prepare the nave for the service while Elizaveta went to the parish hall to help the ladies with the final preparations for the party, which would begin sometime between 1:30am and 2:00am.

As usual, the service began with the nave almost completely darkened, with only very dim nightlights providing illumination to see the floors to help ensure everyone could safely move around. Two High School students — Joseph and Thomas — would light the oil lamps at the appointed time. Mark had the responsibility for lighting the oil lamps in the altar. Another High School student, Noelle, would flip all eight switches to turn on the lights in the nave, while Elias would flip the four, which illuminated the altar.

I verified that the books at the chanter’s stand were open to the correct pages, and spoke briefly with the choir director, before Father Nicholas arrived and we prayed our entry prayers, then vested in purple. We’d change to white at the appropriate time, just before ‘Come ye, receive the light’ was sung.

May 4, 1986, Pascha, McKinley, Ohio

Four hours later, invigorated rather than exhausted, I joined Elizaveta and the rest of the congregation in the parish hall for the post-Pascha party. We finally left the church about 6:00am and headed home for a shower and a nap. We slept for about three hours before rising so we could be at church in time to help set up for Agape Vespers, the final service of the Lenten/Paschal cycle. That service lasted an hour, and when it finished, Elizaveta and I headed home to get into bed, though this time it wasn’t to nap.

“Finally,” she giggled when I had fully embedded myself in her tight confines. “No sex for over a week sucked!”

“Sucking is good,” I teased.

“Not THAT kind! Now, shut up and make love to me!”

“You started it!” I replied smugly.

“Husband...”

We made love twice, showered, and then I studied while Elizaveta did homework. We weren’t having our usual Sunday ‘Dinner Club’ because of the timing, but my study group arrived after dinner, as they usually did.

“Back to normal, now?” Peter asked.

I nodded, “Church-wise, yes. Our next extra service is Ascension Thursday, which is June 12th. But tomorrow is Frank Bush’s hearing, and then Thursday is the funeral for Tasha’s dad.”

“Would I be able to get a ride with you, Deacon?” Maryam asked.

“Yes. Clarissa is riding with us as well. Peter, there’s one other church thing — on the 17th, which is a Saturday, we’ll elect a new bishop.”

“We’ll meet at Doctor Blahnik’s that day,” Clarissa interjected. “Does everyone have their plans for break?”

“I’m going home to Chicago,” Maryam said.

“I’m meeting some friends from college in Florida,” Peter said.

“Smoky Mountains for a week for Abby and me,” Clarissa added.

“Jason and I are going to Myrtle Beach with my parents,” Fran said.

“Pete and I are going to his parents’ house for the week,” Sandy said. “His parents will be away, so we’ll have the house to ourselves, complete with a swimming pool and hot tub.”

“Pharmacology?” Fran asked.

Everyone groaned and nodded. She picked up the deck of index cards and we took turns reading the name of the drug and responding with the indications and contraindications. After an hour of flashcards, we reviewed the anatomy of the eyeball until our own eyeballs cried out that it was time for our session to end. My study group left and Elizaveta and I headed to bed.

May 5, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

“The State of Ohio versus Frank Bush,” the clerk announced.

“Jonathan Taft for the State.”

“Bernard Robbins for Mr. Bush,” another attorney said.

“Mr. Bush is in custody,” the clerk announced. “The bailiff will please have him brought before the bench.”

As had happened on Monday, the bailiff unlocked the door, went through it, then returned with Frank Bush, who was handcuffed and shackled, with a chain connecting the cuffs to the shackles. He was clad, as he had been before, in a bright orange uniform, and was accompanied by three Sheriff’s deputies, and when he was brought before the bench, two of them flanked him and the third stood directly behind him.

“Mr. Bush is before Your Honor,” the defense counsel announced.

“Mr. Taft?” the judge said. “Where are we?”

“The State proffers an affidavit provided by Nadine Bush.”

“Objection, Your Honor,” Mr. Robbins stated firmly. “All communication between my client and his wife is protected by statute. He has not waived his rights to privilege.”

“Mr. Taft?”

“Spousal privilege is designed to protect spouses from an invasion of the privacy of the marriage,” the Prosecutor said. “As Mr. Robbins has accurately stated, per statute, Mr. Bush may prevent all privileged testimony. But, in the case of the affidavit, there is no privilege, as it relates only to utterances made in the presence of a third party, either Melissa Bush or James Bush. Again, per the statute, if there is a third party present who is also a witness, that third-party witness would be allowed to testify, and the spouse, if she chooses, may also testify to anything that occurred during the time when the third party was present. And, finally, Nadine Bush was found competent to testify against her husband, by her own declaration.”

“Mr. Robbins?”

“May I reserve my objections until I read the affidavit?”

“You may. The Prosecution will deliver a copy to you and,” he consulted his calendar, “we’ll be back here on the 14th at 1:00pm.”

“Thank you, Your Honor,” Mr. Robbins replied.

“Mr. Bush is to remain in the custody of the Sheriff,” the judge declared.

As Frank Bush was led away, Clarissa and I left the courtroom so we could head to campus.

“I’d say he’s fucked,” she said once we were in the parking lot.

“I’d say you’re right. I suspect he didn’t understand how what they called spousal privilege worked. But even then, Melissa could testify against him.”

“That would help her with the medical school, wouldn’t it?” Clarissa suggested.

“I would think so,” I replied. “It helps her distance herself from the murder and looks like she’s trying to have justice done.”

“Think they’ll actually execute him?”

I chuckled, “I think they have to convict him first!”

“Smart ass! I meant AFTER they convict him. They have him dead to rights!”

“True. If the jury returns the death penalty, it’s at least ten years from the end of the trial, and possibly even twenty. Who knows what the political climate will be in 2006?”

“Jesus, Petrovich. 2006? That just sounds weird.”

“I know. And Prince to the contrary, people are not going to party, they’re going to freak out. The ‘end of the world’ crazies come out at the turn of centuries. The turn of the millennium will be worse, though you watch, the morons will freak out in December 1999, not December 2000.”

“Forgetting that there is no year ‘0’?”

“Yep! But I understand why people think flipping from 19 to 20 is the big deal. But the millennium starts on January 1, 2001. Though if you want to be totally pedantic, you have to account for the days that were skipped in September 1752, which would make it January 13th, not the 1st. And then, you’d have to go back and check to see if the Romans got all their «Intercalaris» days correct.”

“Oh, stop!” Clarissa exclaimed, though she was laughing. “You and your calendars!”

“I’m not even close to the Greek Old Calendarist fanatics!”

“I’m not so sure about that!”

“Gee, thanks, Lissa!”

“What’s your plan? Celebrate on December 31 of BOTH years?”

“Absolutely!”

May 6, 1986, McKinley, Ohio

I left the pharmacology class thirty minutes early, having explained to Doctor Glenn that Doctor Roth had requested that I arrive at noon for my surgical Preceptorship. She was understanding, and as I was earning honors, it wasn’t going to cause too much trouble. Twenty minutes later, I walked into the lounge on the surgical floor, with a shirt and tie under my medical coat, rather than my cassock.

“Good morning, Mike,” Doctor Roth said.

“Good morning, Doctor,” I replied. “I reviewed the procedure for a nephrectomy after a cancer diagnosis.”

“As Doctor Lindsay and Zoe are finishing their lunches, take me through the basic steps, please.”

“The textbook did not cover a laparoscopic procedure,” I said.

“That procedure is too new. The first successful cholecystectomy via laparoscopy was only done last year. We’ll have a visiting surgeon here sometime after the end of the July to demonstrate, depending on when we have a case.”

“I’d love to observe,” I said.

Doctor Roth smiled, “I think that can be arranged.”

“Thank you. For a closed procedure, the patient is placed under general anesthesia. An incision is made in the side of the abdomen to access the kidney. The ureter and blood vessels are disconnected, and the kidney is then removed. It is, all things considered, a very simple procedure.”

“Could you do it?”

“No.”

“Set aside the legal and ethical considerations, and assume you’re a brand-new Resident.”

“I don’t have the knowledge of what to do if something were to go wrong or the patient’s anatomy was discovered to be atypical, nor do I know the signs of a spread of renal cell carcinoma beyond the kidney.”

“Assuming everything was perfect? And you could be perfect?”

I laughed, “I’m married, so I know THAT isn’t true!”

Doctor Roth laughed, “You’ve got that right! Do you know the differential diagnosis for renal cell carcinoma?”

“It’s usually not detected directly, though blood in the urine is presumptive.”

“That was the case with this patient, but you’re right — usually it’s found when testing for other conditions, typically with the gall bladder. What tests would you run and what would you look for?”

“A CBC,” I replied. “According to the textbook, elevated levels of calcium and an elevated red count are indications, as are hypertension, recurrent fever, night sweats, and chronic fatigue.”

“Excellent job, Mike. Keep up the good work.”

Just then, Zoe and Doctor Lindsay came into the lounge. The three of us followed Doctor Roth to Internal Medicine, where we saw the patient, Nickie Schmidt, a forty-two-year-old woman.

“Hi, Nickie,” Doctor Roth said. “How are you doing?”

“Pretty good, all things considered.”

“This is Mike Loucks, a First Year medical student who’ll be observing today. Do you have any questions for me before Doctor Lindsay preps you for surgery?”

“No, Doctor,” Ms. Schmidt replied.

“Then I’ll see you in the operating room!”

He left, and Doctor Lindsay began checking the charts. Once she finished, she took vitals and verified which kidney was to be removed, using a magic-marker to indicate it, and having Ms. Schmidt verify.

“I know Doctor Roth asked,” Doctor Lindsay said, “but I’ll ask as well — do you have any questions?”

“No, I don’t,” Ms. Schmidt replied. “My oncologist was in before and answered all the questions.”

“Then I’ll call the orderlies to bring you up to the operating room. Zoe will stay with you; Mike, you’ll come with me.”

We left the room and headed back to the surgical floor.

“What does Zoe do with the patient?” I asked.

“She’ll wait for the orderlies and accompany the patient to the OR. Doctor Roth discovered that it helps the patients not be as nervous if they have someone they know with them as they’re moved from their room to the OR. And a patient who is calm and comfortable will have a better outcome.”

“I’ve heard anecdotal information that prayer helps,” I replied.

Doctor Lindsay smiled, “There’s no way to test that one scientifically.”

“Sure there is,” I replied. “In the same way, Doctor Roth has observed better outcomes. Now, if you want to answer ‘why?’, I’ll actually agree with you because nobody can prove the source of the efficaciousness of prayer.”

“That’s an interesting response from a clergyman.”

“I think you’ll find all of my responses ‘interesting’,” I replied. “Orthodox Christianity is very different from anything you’ve experienced.”

Doctor Lindsay smirked, “Something female medical students, Residents, and nurses hear from doctors all the time!”

I laughed, hard.

“Nice,” I replied when I stopped laughing.

“You have a good sense of humor.”

“For a clergyman?” I asked with an arched eyebrow.

“Sorry.”

“For what? I’ve met plenty of humorless clergymen. Fortunately, in our church, they are few and far between. And, by the way, male medical students hear things like that, too. In my case, nurses.”

Doctor Lindsay laughed, “Somehow I’m not surprised. You’re good looking, and your clerical robes make you a real challenge.”

“My wife would say the same thing!”

We were both laughing when we walked into the lounge on the surgical floor.

“Inside joke?” Doctor Roth asked.

“We were just talking about getting hit on by the medical staff.”

Doctor Roth frowned, “I’m no prude, but those shenanigans just have to stop. Someday we’re going to get hit with a harassment suit that’s going to stick and which can’t simply be quietly paid off. Anyway, how is our patient?”

“In good spirits,” Doctor Lindsay replied.

“I’d like you to do the procedure today, from start to finish. Ms. Williams will assist.”

“Yes, Doctor.”

I wondered if Doctor Roth was trying to make a point from our previous conversation about my confidence to be able to perform a procedure, but everything I’d learned so far was really just scratching the surface. Even though I knew the steps, and had learned how to use a scalpel, cutting into a living body was as far from cutting into a cadaver as Earth was from the Sun. That said, some day, in the not-too-distant future, I’d have to cut into living tissue, and that meant observing as closely as possible, and asking as many questions as possible.