Chapter 58 — Rachel Is a Big Girl!

_October 25, 1989, Circleville, Ohio_

{psc} On Wednesday I was able to sleep in, at least for me, which meant not getting out of bed until 6:30am when Rachel came into our room.

"Daddy! Potty!"

Rachel had been asking to use the potty for a few days, but her timing was off — she'd ask after she'd wet her pull-ups, which she wore during the day, or in the morning when she had a messy diaper from while she was sleeping. I sat up, grabbed my robe, put it on, then got out of bed and took my daughter to the bathroom, where I put her on a potty seat which was on the toilet. Surprisingly, her diaper was dry, and she urinated into the toilet.

"Rachel is a big girl!" I said.

When she finished, I wiped her, then helped her wash her hands, before taking her to her room to put on a pair of pull-ups, sweatpants, a t-shirt, and a sweater. Once she was dressed, we went downstairs where Kris had coffee brewing and had started making waffles.

"She used the potty," I said to Kris.

"Rachel is a big girl!" Rachel exclaimed happily.

"Very good, Rachel!" Kris acknowledged. "Mike, did you decide what to do about your prison visit?"

"I think it's better to keep the day consistent, and either the third or fourth Sunday of the month, usually the fourth. The only thing I have planned is lunch with Antonne and his study group tomorrow."

"And his friend Conchita will have her 'Rachel time'?" Kris asked.

"She does enjoy that! We'll stop in and see Anicka before lunch, but otherwise, Rachel and I will just hang out."

We had breakfast, then Rachel and I walked Kris out to her car, said 'goodbye' and after Kris had driven away, went back into the house.

"What shall we do today?" I asked.

"Daddy guitar!" Rachel exclaimed.

I honored my daughter's request, and played for her for about an hour, which doubled as practice, which I was missing every week because of my schedule. After I played my guitar for my daughter, she and I took a walk, then returned to the house, where she hosted a tea party for her stuffed animals and dolls while I read the newspaper. We had lunch at noon, took another walk, then Rachel went down for her nap.

I used the time she was sleeping to write out checks for bills, to balance the family checkbook, and to compare our spending against our budget. We were spending less than we'd allocated, which was a good thing. That allowed me to transfer extra money to our savings account, where each dollar added brought us closer to being able to buy a house and begin building equity, instead of paying rent.

When Rachel woke up from her nap, I gave her a bath, then we went downstairs so I could begin working on dinner while she played with her toys. When Kris arrived home, she helped me put the finishing touches on dinner, we ate, then headed to the Cathedral for Vespers. After Vespers, we returned home, put Rachel to bed, then shared a glass of wine, a rare occurrence due to my shift schedule.

"I was thinking about how to handle things next summer," Kris said as we sipped red wine. "As we had discussed before we married, I'll take June, July, and half of August off from OSU. That will keep me on plan to graduate on time, even if I miss a regular semester because the timing of our second child doesn't work as conveniently as our first appears to have."

"That's completely up to you," I replied. "Assuming our baby arrives around June 20th, it would be June of the following year before he or she could go to the hospital daycare, and the parish daycare starts at age two. We'll need to sort out childcare for about ten months, roughly."

"Actually, I checked into the daycare at Ohio State and also spoke to my advisor. I'll be able to arrange my classes so that they are Monday, Wednesday, and Friday, which would allow us to sign up for the three-day-a-week plan, which costs $36/week at our income level. They'll take babies as young as six weeks, and then, when he or she turns one, we transfer him or her to the hospital daycare."

"We can make that work with our budget, especially given my income will go up by about $3000 on July 1st of next year."

"You know, I never asked, but how does the daycare at the hospital work?"

"For medical students, it's free; for Residents, it's $5 per day; for Attendings, it's $10 per day. There are different fee schedules for nurses, orderlies, clerks, and administrators, all subsidized at different levels. The parish daycare at Saint Michael is $10 per day, but here are benevolence funds available for families who can't afford that."

"I think that answers the practical part, «non»?"

"I think so," I agreed. "It's also much more convenient. The only question I have is if you'll be OK with taking four classes per day."

"Yes, and having Tuesdays and Thursdays free gives me plenty of time to read and do coursework. Obviously, we don't know your schedule, but those days also allow for shopping and other things that I might need to do for the family. Also, I'm sure my sister will help out during the summer while she's not in school."

"Rachel really likes her, and she's been a big help; well, minus teaching Rachel to speak French!"

Kris laughed, "As if that is so terrible!"

"I suppose French could be useful," I allowed.

"You _love_ French…kissing!"

"Perhaps," I replied with a smile.

"Perhaps you'd like to French kiss my «minou»?"

"Perhaps I would!"

_October 26, 1989, Circleville, Ohio_

"How was your day?" Kris asked when she arrived home early on Thursday afternoon.

"It was good," I replied. "We spent about twenty minutes with Anicka, then had lunch with Antonne, Paul, Julius, Jordan, Conchita, and Danika. As usual, Conchita helped Rachel with her lunch, and then we came home."

"If you don't object, we could do the grocery shopping as a family today," Kris suggested.

"That's fine with me," I replied. "I think we should let Rachel have her nap first. She was just about to go down."

"OK."

I took Rachel upstairs, had her sit on the potty, and was pleased when she urinated. I put on a clean diaper, which she wore when she slept, helped her climb into her bed, tucked her in, then kissed her forehead. I left her room, closing the door behind me, and went back downstairs to be with Kris.

"Do you have homework?" I asked.

"Just some reading," she replied. "I can do it now, if that's OK, then we'll have the evening free."

"Sounds good. Fran called to let me know that she and Jason plan to join the group tomorrow night."

"That's good!" Kris exclaimed. "We haven't seen them in some time."

"Babies do not care about schedules!" I chuckled. "Nor do they care if there is an OB available!"

"When should I go to the hospital?"

"The short answer is 'when Doctor Forsberg tells you to'. The longer answer has to do with how long you've been in labor, how close together your contractions are, and if your water has broken. You'll call her when your contractions start, when they're usually about ten minutes apart, and she'll advise you."

"Do you really not know much about OB/GYN?"

"I know the basics. If there had been any serious complications with the delivery, things could have gone very badly, very quickly. Fortunately, it was routine, and I even overreacted a bit."

"How so?"

"She lost a small amount of blood, which isn't uncommon, and her BP dropped, so I ordered a unit of plasma which wasn't strictly necessary, but given I had insufficient experience by which to judge, I took the conservative approach."

"Of course you did!" Kris said lightly.

"Whatever!" I chuckled. "You know I didn't mean it politically! In the hospital, the thing we seek to conserve is life, so literally every doctor is 'conservative' by default. We take very few risks, though our willingness to take risks increases as the risk of a negative outcome increases."

"Have you had to do that?"

"No. And at this point, anything that deviates from standard practices would need advance approval from an Attending. You know I mostly handle walk-ins, and when there are traumas, if they're significant, an Attending is assigned as well. The weird thing is that because I'm on the surgical service, I do surgical assessments that ED Attendings cannot do."

"That's very strange."

"It's all about the red scrubs," I chuckled. "But seriously, it's also the case that to transfer a patient to another service, a Resident from that service has to accept the patient. So, in a sense, it's not weird, because even though I work in the ED, I'm officially a surgical Resident."

"When will there be more like you?"

"Never!" I declared with a goofy smile.

"You know what I meant!" Kris retorted.

"I did. There will be one, or possibly two, in June 1992, and then one per year after that until there are six Residents. After that, slots will open as they're needed. I don't know about Attendings as yet, because the soonest I could be an attending is 1999. It's possible they could open a slot before I complete my Residency, but there are so few programs that anyone who completes their Residency will be snapped up by their own hospital."

"That's the point when you could leave if you wanted to, right?"

"Yes. The real question will be my Fellowship, because there will be limited opportunities for trauma surgeons. If Moore Memorial doesn't have one, I might end up in Columbus, Cleveland, Cincinnati, or even Chicago."

"How long is that?"

"A year, typically. The challenge is that unless there is an Attending trauma surgeon, there can't be a Fellowship."

"That precludes you being at Moore, then, right?"

"Unless they decide to create an Attending position before then, and can fill it with someone from Chicago, or Indiana University, or one of the few other schools that started before Moore did. It's also possible I could do a Fellowship in a surgical specialty other than trauma surgery, but Moore only has one for cardio-thoracic at the moment, and the competition is keen."

"It sounds as if not everyone can do one."

"That's absolutely true. I could go straight from Resident to Attending and not suffer. That said, a Fellowship under someone like Doctor Barton in Chicago would be valuable both in terms of education and in earning potential. The earning potential doesn't matter a lot, but the education and experience do. Interestingly, I will be a 'Fellow' without a Fellowship."

"What am I missing?"

"You probably have never run into it, but surgeons add 'FACS' as a post-nominal title. It stands for 'Fellow of the American College of Surgeons' and is a certification that you've met the criteria for education, qualification, and ethics required to join the American College of Surgeons. I could actually join the organization as a Resident, but the certification comes later. If I do earn that certification, which I intend to do, I would be styled 'Doctor Michael P. Loucks, MD, FACS'."

"From all of that, I gather you would only do it if it were available here or Columbus?"

"Or possibly Cincinnati. You'll have finished your Master's in public administration by then, and we'll have to consider where you work, along with the other needs of our family. In any event, it's not something to worry about for six years, and much will have changed by then, including more trauma surgeons being trained."

"Would you consider moving on account of my job?"

"We'd certainly discuss it, but my ability to move is severely limited for the next six to eight years. But, as I said, we can defer that discussion until Spring 1996. You know my desire is to serve the community here, but the bottom line is that you and I are an equal partnership, and I'll do what's best for our family."

"That's all I can ask."

_October 28, 1989, McKinley, Ohio_

"What did I miss?" I asked Isabella Mastriano when I saw her in the ED lounge on Saturday morning.

"Not much, from what I hear. It was a relatively quiet week, and it was strangely quiet overnight. Only two EMS transports, and half-a-dozen walk-ins. Doctor Billings is sleeping, and the board is completely clear."

"That won't last," I replied.

"It never does," she confirmed.

Karl and Andy were also sleeping, and there was no point in waking them as there was nothing to do, so I set down with _JEM_ and began reading. Three articles immediately caught my eye — 'Penetrating wounds to the posterior chest: Analysis of exigent thoracotomy and laparotomy', 'Laboratory tests during resuscitation', and 'Criteria for the assessment of disaster preparedness'. There were other potentially interesting articles, but with limited time, I chose the ones I felt were most appropriate.

The article on lab tests during resuscitation surprised me, as instead of being diagnostic in nature, was defensive — that is, arguing for them as a way to justify earlier termination of resuscitation. The argument was, in effect, that lab tests could more quickly show a situation to be hopeless than physical exam. And while that was true, I asked for a 'trauma panel' — albeit by specifying the specific tests I wanted — in nearly every case. That was the accepted practice at Moore, but I could see how patient loads might lead to not running those tests for patients who were 'moribund', as the article called them.

The article on penetrating wounds provided statistics which supported early surgical intervention for posterior chest wounds, though the majority of the cases examined were gunshot wounds, something we rarely saw, though the frequency was increasing. The second largest group was stabbings, and we saw a fair number of those, but nothing like the numbers reported in the study, which had been conducted in Denver.

The article on disaster preparedness presented a method of objective assessment, and called for uniformity amongst municipalities, counties, provinces, states, and countries. A number of the ideas presented were excellent, and I made a mental note to flag the article to Doctor Gibbs.

I had just finished the article when Missy, one of the weekend clerks, came into the lounge to let me know there were walk-in patients in the waiting room. I acknowledged her, then went to the on-call room to wake Karl and Andy, nearly running into Kayla Billings as she came out of the on-call room.

"Nothing on the board," she said. "I'm outta here!"

"Have a good day," I said.

She left, I woke my students, and had them get the first chart from the rack. We had a fairly steady flow of patients, though nothing interesting or out of the ordinary. We streeted most of the patients, with only one being admitted to Medicine. The afternoon was somewhat busier, and we assisted with a multi-victim MVA, with two patients being sent up to surgery. I had hoped with two patients I'd get to scrub in, but that hadn't been the case.

At 5:00pm, I left the ED and headed home for dinner with Kris and Rachel, and then Vespers at the Cathedral.

_October 29, 1989, Southern Ohio Correctional Facility, Lucasville, Ohio_

On Sunday, after the Divine Liturgy at the Cathedral, I dropped Kris and Rachel at home, then headed to the prison to see Frank Bush and Kurt Bowman. I had called on Friday and received permission to use the chapel at 3:00pm for the _Trisagion_ Prayers, and a notice had been posted. I wondered who might attend, if anyone, but even if I prayed alone, that would fulfill my ministry.

When I arrived at the prison, I put on my grey cassock, went through the usual lengthy security procedures, which were slightly longer as I was bringing in a prayer book and diptych. After being wanded, patted-down, and having my prayer book and diptych x-rayed, I was escorted to the visitor's room. Two minutes later, Frank Bush was brought in.

"What's with the getup?" he asked.

"I assume you saw the announcement of the prayer service I'm going to lead at 3:00pm. That's why."

"I thought you quit."

"I did, but I have permission from my bishop to wear the cassock as a chaplain when I'm here at the prison. Can't have anyone mistaking me for a Protestant pastor in slacks and a polo shirt!"

"They should never have gone away from suits and ties," Frank said.

I smiled, "I agree! We should all wear the traditional uniform for clergy. Our street clothing is simply thirteen centuries or so older than yours!"

"Smart ass!"

"I aim to please! How is Kurt?"

"Much better. I'm surprised that subterfuge worked."

"I suspect it had to do with me being able to claim to be an MD, as well as being listed as his official next of kin. I doubt that will work again, at least anytime soon. That said, if you have anyone who has medical complaints come to the prayer service, I can do my best to intervene. Obviously I can't promise anything, and without a license, I'm limited in what I can say or do, but someone needs to be an advocate for humane treatment of prisoners."

"You don't think everyone here is reaping what they've sown?"

"Yes, they are," I replied. "Though that does not make it humane, nor just, and certainly not Christian."

"Isn't it written, 'Let everyone be subject to the governing authorities, for there is no authority except that which God has established'?"

"Romans 13," I replied. "And I'm not challenging the authority of the government to incarcerate you any more than I challenge the authority of the government to lay and collect taxes. What I'm saying is that as Christians, we should follow Jesus' command to visit and love the imprisoned, and ensure they are treated humanely and justly."

"Paul was speaking about the Romans, and they were anything but just and humane!" Frank countered.

"The fact that the pagan Romans acted unjustly and inhumanely is not license for us to do the same. And sometimes Christians are called to disobey the law, with my primary example being Doctor Martin Luther King, Junior. He, and other civil rights activists, broke the law, understanding they would be punished. They kept the moral high ground by not engaging in insurrection or rebellion, but only civil disobedience.

"I don't believe there is any reason not to provide prisoners with good food, good medical care, sufficient exercise, and access to education or job training. Fundamentally, they are human beings, and children of God, and deserve the respect that is due all human beings. Incarceration is appropriate to protect society, but society benefits in multiple ways from «metanoia». I've seen it first hand with convicted felons turning their lives around."

"Good luck jousting at that windmill."

"I'm a professional windmill jouster, according to my supervisors. On a topic where it wasn't jousting, you should apply to whatever correspondence course you want to take. Just indicate that it's being paid for by Saint Silas Prison Ministry, a charitable organization run by the OCA Diocese of Ohio. Based on what I learned from Taft, we can fund two classes per year — one Fall and one Spring semester course."

"No catch?"

"No catch. I do hope you'll attend the prayer service, but there is no requirement for you to do so. I would ask that you share the books I sent you with anyone who asks, and I'll let anyone who attends know you have them."

"I actually gave them to the library, as we're limited in the number of items we can have in our cells."

"OK. Is there anything else I can get for you?"

"Reading material is always good. The books go to the library once I've read them."

"That's a good thing. Just let me know the titles before I leave. Would you like to play chess?"

"I would."

We played four games of chess before it was time for the _Trisagion_ prayers. Frank chose not to join me, which didn't surprise me at all, but when I went to the chapel, Kurt Bowman was there, with four other inmates.

"Doctor Mike," he said. "Meet Nick Papadakis, John Williams, and Nate Washington."

"Are you a priest or a deacon?" Nick asked.

"Neither," I replied. "I'm a lay chaplain and have permission from my bishop to wear a cassock here so as to distinguish myself from chaplains of other denominations."

"Then I won't ask your blessing!" he said, extending his hand.

I shook the other men's hands and suggested we say the prayers first, then speak privately, if any of them wanted to. They agreed, and as Nick was clearly familiar with the _Trisagion_ prayers, I asked him to say the responses. We began, and about twenty minutes later, I gave the lay blessing to end the prayers.

I spoke first with Kurt, who was, as Frank had said, doing much better. The added benefit of being on warfarin was that he had a specialized diet because of potential interactions, and therefore ate slightly better than most prisoners, as his meals were prepared individually, rather than being served mess-hall style. I asked what he needed, and he, like Frank, asked for reading material.

I had brief conversations with both John and Nate, who, from what I gathered, attended solely to break the monotony of prison life. I had no problem with that and said nothing about the sense I had of why they attended. I simply thanked them, invited them back, and asked them to get in touch if they needed anything, providing the address of the Cathedral.

"When's the last time you receive Eucharist or went to confession?" I asked Nick when it was his turn.

"Five years ago, before I was locked up."

"If you want to receive the Eucharist, I can arrange for a deacon to bring it to you."

"Russian?"

"In tradition, yes, but the OCA is Americanized, and we rarely use Slavonic. In fact, you'd hear more Greek than Slavonic in our services at the Cathedral, because we sing to the bishop in Greek. And I'm sure you know the differences are mostly about small 't' traditions. If you want to have your confession heard, I'll need to discuss that with Bishop JOHN."

"I probably should," he replied. "I sometimes think if I'd been more faithful, I wouldn't have ended up in here for twenty-to-life."

"Mind if I ask for what?"

"Manslaughter. I killed a guy in a bar fight where I took the first swing."

"When are you eligible for parole?"

"At about the twelve-year mark, with good behavior credits, but the chances are pretty slim."

"Do everything you can to show «metanoia»," I said. "Do you have family who visit you?"

"My mom," he replied. "My wife divorced me and moved to Chicago with my kids. My brother is a jeweler in Chicago, but she won't let him see the kids."

"Where does your mom live?"

"Cincinnati. That's where the fight was. Well, it was at a bar in Terrace Park, near Milford."

"How old are your kids?"

"Sixteen and thirteen," he replied. "Both boys."

"What did you do for work before you were arrested?"

"Construction foreman in Cinci. Before that, I was a union electrician."

"Besides the Eucharist, is there anything you need?"

"Could you get me a prayer book?"

"Absolutely."

Our time was up, so we had to leave the chapel, and I shook hands with him, he left, and a guard escorted me to the exit.

_October 30, 1989, McKinley, Ohio_

"Doctor Gibbs would like to see you," Ellie said just after 7:00am on Monday morning.

I went to the Attending's office and stood in the door.

"Come in and shut the door, please," she said.

I did as she asked, then sat down in a chair across the desk from her.

"Can we end this, please?" she asked.

"The ball is in your court, Doctor," I said.

"When you use 'Doctor' for anyone other than department heads, it sounds like an insult because you're informal with basically everyone."

"That is my style," I acknowledged.

"You're not going to make this easy, are you?"

"From my perspective, it's simple," I replied. "All you need to do is acknowledge that, at one point in the past, you agreed with my position on sex between doctors and medical students. That's literally it. I even promised not to breathe a word of our conversation. You and I both know the truth, and your steadfast refusal to even acknowledge it is the source of the problem."

"And you know I was given direct orders."

"Yes, you were. And I stand by my statement. You could acknowledge that you had agreed with me without stating a position. And if you felt I'd rat you out, then, well, that confirms my decision to treat you as my boss and only have professional interactions with you. Do you trust me, Doctor Gibbs? If not, then there's no point in continuing this conversation."

"You can be a real prick at times."

"Something I'll never deny. But I challenge you to find a time when I've been a smug jerk and have been wrong. And I also challenge you to point to a time when I was wrong, was corrected, and rejected that correction. And by 'wrong' I mean actually in error, not simply objecting to some policy or procedure. I know how to take correction, Doctor Gibbs.

"I may not always be successful in modifying my behavior, but I do listen. But in _this_ case, not only am I not wrong, my position is now the official policy of the medical school, at least with regard to activities in the hospital. And they've given guidance suggesting avoiding ALL relationships between students and teachers, even if they can't enforce a rule when people are off shift outside the hospital."

"You do realize that Northrup is royally pissed at you."

"Old news," I replied. "I report to the Chief Surgeon, who agrees with me, and who scuttlebutt says has been told that he's the next Medical Director, with an announcement coming later today. And even if that weren't the case, I wouldn't change my position on it being unethical."

"Were you aware that Krista Sandberg filed a lawsuit on Friday?"

"No. Against the hospital or the medical school?"

"Both, but only insofar as they failed to prevent Doctor Mark King from sexually harassing her by forcing her to sleep with him to gain a passing grade."

Mark King was a second-year Attending in Internal Medicine with whom I'd had very little interaction.

"And if _that_ doesn't prove my point, nothing will," I said firmly. "She actually might win that suit. What happened to Doctor King?"

"He denied it, but the Hospital Administrator suspended him with pay, pending an investigation. You can imagine Tim Baker is more than a little pissed."

"I can imagine. I'm curious as to why she didn't sue all the doctors she slept with."

"I'd guess it was to avoid looking promiscuous. And it might work, given no doctor is going to admit a relationship with her, and asking about someone's sexual history in a case such as this is a losing proposition."

"All I can say is 'I told you so'."

"You're an ass, Loucks."

"Tell me I'm wrong."

"You know I can't."

"So…" I replied, using my mom's technique.

"I did, and do agree with you. Please do not repeat that outside this office until Northrup is gone. I expect him to leave, just as you do."

"Thank you, Lor," I said with a smile.

"That doesn't change the fact that you're a pain in the ass!"

"Of course not!"

"Go heal the sick!"

I got up, opened the door, and left the Attending's office. I saw Clarissa and asked her to step out into the ambulance bay.

"Did you hear about Mark King?" I asked.

"I don't believe it," Clarissa said. "I mean, OK, sure, he probably tapped the hot blonde medical student, but there's no way he changed her grade because of it."

"Won't matter if he did or didn't change her grade. Having sex with her is going to be the end of his career."

"And his marriage, I'm sure," Clarissa said. "Don't you think there will be a settlement?"

"Possibly," I replied. "But she named the hospital and the medical school as, I don't know what the correct legal term is, but 'accessories' to sexual harassment."

"Same attorney?"

"I'd bet on it, but I don't know. Loretta just told me about it."

"Loretta? That's a switch."

"We buried the hatchet, and not in each other's backs."

"So she caved?"

"I promised not to reveal what she said."

"Which means she caved. But I'll drop it. Did you hear about the new medical director?"

"Just the same rumor you've heard — that Cutter will be announced as the new Medical Director today. I have $10 that says Northrup is out of here, and possibly right away. Rumor has it that he's been interviewing at large urban hospitals."

"Emergency medicine?" Clarissa asked.

"That's the rumor, but it wouldn't surprise me if he tried smaller hospitals to find a position as a medical director he could parlay into a role at a larger hospital."

"That makes sense. How did your prison visit go yesterday?"

"I had four people in the chapel for the _Trisagion_ prayers, one of whom is Greek Orthodox. I'm going to arrange for Protodeacon Ivan to take him Eucharist, and discuss with Bishop JOHN how someone can see him to hear his confession."

"That's cool. What about the other three?"

"One was the guy who I helped with the medical problem. I think the other two were only there to break the monotony, but I'll take it. I expect to see all four of them at the end of November."

"Not Frank Bush?"

"No. I'm simply going to continue to demonstrate Christian love and hope that he has a change of heart. And I don't mean that he converts to Orthodox, only that he sees himself as someone God loves, in spite of his sin."

"Doctor Mike?" Sophia said, coming into the ambulance bay. "We have a patient ready to present."

"Back to the salt mines!" Clarissa exclaimed.

_November 1, 1989, McKinley, Ohio_

"Good morning, Doctor Mike!" Tamara, the receptionist at the Free Clinic, exclaimed when I walked in on Wednesday morning.

"Morning," I said. "How many scheduled appointments do I have?"

"Four, all in the afternoon."

"Thanks."

I checked in with Doctor Turner, hung my windbreaker on a hook in the break room, then put on my medical coat and slung my stethoscope around my neck. I strongly preferred wearing scrubs, but the 'uniform' for doctors in the clinic was slacks, a shirt, a tie, and medical coat.

"Morning, Mike!" Trina Carlslyle said, coming into the break room.

"Morning!"

"How was jury duty?" she asked.

"Interesting. I'm still not sure why the County Prosecutor filed charges with only flimsy circumstantial evidence."

"What case?"

"Statutory rape where the teenage girl and the guy in his twenties both denied it."

"What evidence did they present?"

"The guy had checked into a motel with someone resembling the girl at a distance, but the guy's girlfriend testified she was with him. The only thing I can figure is someone in her family is politically connected."

"Acquitted on all charges?"

"Except misdemeanor battery for punching the girl's dad in the nose during an alteration where he was accused of having sex with the girl. The only other 'evidence' was that she had birth control pills, and they were seen drinking beers together."

"Teen in Ohio has a beer! Film at 11!" Trina exclaimed.

"Yeah, not exactly news, but they tried to charge him with several counts of providing her with alcohol based on testimony that she'd been seen drinking with him."

"I drank beer with college guys when I was fifteen," Trina said. "Along with all my friends!"

"And?" I asked with an arched eyebrow.

"As far as you know, I'm still a virgin!" she teased.

I laughed, "Uh, huh."

"Trina, your first appointment is here," Nurse Misty announced as Michelle came into the break room.

"Duty calls!" Trina said, leaving the room.

"Morning, Doc!" Nurse Michelle said.

"Morning. It's OK to call me Mike when we're not with patients."

The phone rang and Michelle got up to answer it.

"Walk-in patient with a hand lac," Michelle said after she hung up. "I'll bring him to Exam 2."

"Thanks."

I repaired the minor laceration, and over the next four hours I saw seven more patients, most with minor complaints, but one was a pre-employment physical for a job with Hayes County. I had lunch at the deli as usual, then returned to the Free Clinic for my afternoon with my four scheduled appointments.

Two of them were for birth control pills, which I dispensed after a basic exam, one was to remove sutures which Doctor Turner had put in the previous week. While waiting in the break room for the fourth appointment, the phone rang and Michelle got up to answer it.

"Female walk-in patient asking for you by name," she said. "We have about ten minutes before our next appointment."

"Bring her in," I replied.

Michelle left, and I wondered if it was one of the teens from Saint Michael the Archangel who knew I worked at the Free Clinic on Wednesdays. When I went to Exam 2 three minutes later, I lost the bet with myself.

"Hi, Jordan," I said. "What brings you here?"

"Is your nurse cool?"

"Yes."

"I want the Pill because I want to fuck!" she exclaimed mirthfully.

Michelle and I both laughed hard.

"Clear and to the point!" I said. "Have you had a recent gynecological exam?"

"August, before school started."

"That's recent enough. Basically, I just need to check your vitals, counsel you about possible side effects, and then I can write you a prescription with twelve refills. You'll need to come back for an exam annually, or you can ask your OB/GYN to write a prescription for you next August. Are you sexually active?"

"No. Well, not now. Prom was the one and only time."

She was a Sophomore at Taft, which meant sometime in May 1988, thus before her most recent exam.

"Can't get much more traditional than that," I replied. "Did you use protection?"

"Yes."

"Any recent illnesses or injuries?"

"No."

"Then hop up on the table and I'll listen to your heart and lungs, Michelle will take your pulse and temperature, and if everything is normal, which I expect it to be, I'll write the prescription."

I performed the minimal exam required by law to write the prescription, and Jordan's vitals were all within range for a twenty-year-old female. I counseled her about the possible side effects of the Pill, confirmed she understood about not missing a day and what to do if she did. I also reminded her she needed to take the Pills consistently for a month before they would be effective. Finally, I discussed 'Safe Sex' and STDs, and gave her one of the brochures on the subject, then wrote the script.

"All set," I said, handing her the prescription form. "Have fun!"

She laughed, "That's the point, isn't it?"

"Indeed it is! See you next month!"

She left, I completed the chart, and handed it to Tamara, then saw my final appointment, which was also for birth control pills.

"How do you know that girl?" Michelle asked.

"She's part of a study group of pre-med students at Taft I mentor."

"She's cute."

"She is, but I'm VERY married!"

"Too bad," Michelle said with an inviting smile.

I was about to respond with a mild reprimand when the phone rang and Michelle answered it.

"Male walk-in who stepped on a nail," she said after replacing the handset.

"That'll leave a mark," I observed. "Bring him in."

She left, I drank the rest of my tea, then went to Exam 2 to see the patient.