Chapter 38 — Special Delivery

_August 19, 1989, Circleville, Ohio_

"My monthly started," Kris said as we got out of bed on Saturday morning. "Do we agree I stop taking my pills today?"

"Yes," I replied. "Well, unless you want to confer with the Tsarina for her opinion!"

"I think not!" Kris said lightly. "She may have her opinion, but it's not up to her, as you remind her when she objects to a baby brother!"

We took our usual joint shower, and after we dressed, we found Rachel playing in her room. The gate we put across the door prevented her from going anywhere, but that would need to go soon, as it was approaching the time when girls could start to potty train, and Rachel was telling us now every time she urinated, which was the most important indication that a toddler was ready to be potty trained.

After I gave Rachel a quick sponge bath, I put on a fresh diaper, dressed her, and then the three of us went downstairs to have breakfast. Rachel had zero interest in bottles, so she drank milk from her sippy cup, in addition to having Cheerios, banana, and waffle. She wasn't a fan of bacon, but she would eat sausage, so long as it was mildly spiced. After we ate, we cleaned up, then said morning prayers.

There was no band practice, as we didn't practice after gigs, so we went to Kroger earlier than usual, stopped at the bakery, then headed home to spend a few hours together as a family before my Saturday shift at Moore Memorial.

"What time are we leaving in the morning?" Kris asked.

"Matins is at 8:30am at Holy Transfiguration, so about 7:30am so we're not late. The wedding is at 3:00pm, and we'll go to my sister's house after lunch, then back to the church."

"How long did you and Tasha date?" Kris asked.

"Off and on for about three years. Her dad severely limited how often we could see each other. And you know the rest — being ordained and the demands of my medical training."

"And then she married Nikolas Antipov, had Larisa, and divorced not long after."

"Yes, and I'll share this with you as my wife, because Tasha and I had been together."

"She told him she was a virgin?"

"No. She revealed she had missed the mark in that regard before they were betrothed. After they married, he…hmm…considered her sexuality to be a sign of 'harlotry', to put it in polite terms."

"She was that wild?" Kris asked with a twinkle in her eye.

"He was that prudish," I replied. "He would consider some of the things you and I have done to be signs of 'harlotry'."

"Oh, please!" Kris exclaimed, rolling her eyes. "He sounds like some of those crazy monks who think sex is only for making babies, and never for any other purpose, under any circumstances."

"Bingo. On the other hand, that _is_ the reason we'll be having sex for the next few months."

"The _main_ reason, but not the only one!" Kris countered.

"I suppose we're allowed to enjoy it," I said with a smirk.

Kris simply rolled her eyes and shook her head. We played with Rachel, then at 11:00am, we had lunch, and after we'd eaten, I headed to the hospital for my shift.

_August 19, 1989, McKinley, Ohio_

"Mike," Nicki called out just after I'd checked in, "Paramedics three minutes out with an active labor."

"Page the OB Resident, stat!" I ordered.

"Right away," she confirmed.

"Jake, Heather, let's go," I said to my students.

"What do we do?" Jake asked.

"Pray the baby has the good grace to wait for the OB Resident to arrive!"

"Mike," Nicki called out as we gowned. "OB is backed up. They'll get down here as soon as they can."

"Call back and _demand_ an OB nurse with a delivery tray! Do not take 'no' for an answer. Then call for a neonatal cart."

"You're going to deliver?" Doctor Varma asked.

"Got any other ideas? I don't think a cork will work. You could take it."

"No, thanks! I'll stick to explosive diarrhea in Exam 3!"

He disappeared into the exam room and I caught a whiff of what he'd mentioned and decided delivering a baby was a better choice.

"Need help?" Doctor Mastriano asked from behind us.

"I certainly won't refuse!"

The four of us, along with Nurse Alice, went to the ambulance bay just as the EMS squad turned into the hospital driveway. They pulled up, and Roy jumped out of the cab.

"Daphne Reardon, seventeen; active labor; pulse 90; BP 130/80; PO₂ 99%. No other complaints."

"Exam 2," I ordered, electing not to tie up a trauma room.

"Hi, Daphne," I said as we began moving to the exam room. "I'm Doctor Mike. When are you due?"

"Last week," she gasped.

"Did your water break?"

"Yes, in the ambulance."

"Are you on any medication?"

"Pre-natal vitamins."

Once we were in the exam room, the seven of us carefully moved Daphne from the gurney to the exam table, which fortunately had stirrups.

"Alice, stirrups, please; Heather, monitor, no EKG; Isabella, primary survey; I'll do the internal exam; Jake, check with Nicki on OB."

Everyone sprang into action and once we had Daphne's feet in the stirrups, Alice cut away her shorts and panties.

"OB says they're busy," Jake announced.

I suppressed a groan.

"It's you and me, Mike," Isabella declared.

"Heather, IV Ringer's!" I ordered.

"IV Ringer's!" Heather repeated as she moved to get the IV kit and bag.

"Pulse 110; BP 135/80; PO₂ 99%," Doctor Mastriano announced. "Daphne, you're doing fine."

Alice squirted lubricant onto my gloved hand. I inserted my fingers and almost immediately encountered the baby's head.

"She's crowning!" I exclaimed. "Heather, get that IV in and get two surgical towels! Alice, Betadine! Daphne, do NOT push; Jake, go personally to OB and get a neonatal cart. Do not let anyone stop you. Just take one."

"Yes, Doctor," he acknowledged and left the room.

Daphne groaned as she had a contraction.

"Don't push!" I commanded.

Alice quickly painted Daphne's thighs with Betadine, something that wasn't strictly necessary, but was advised for emergency deliveries.

"Drape the towels over your arms," I said to Heather. "And I'll hand the baby to you so I can clamp and cut the cord. Daphne, when your next contraction begins, I want you to push!"

"O…K…she gasped."

The brief pause to wait for the next contraction allowed me to run through what I'd learned in my OB rotation, which was not two years in the past.

"Alice, get a vial of Pitocin in case we need it," I ordered.

That was something that would be included with a standard OB tray, which I did not have.

Daphne groaned again.

"Contraction!" Doctor Mastriano announced. "Mike?"

"Daphne, push!"

She did and her baby moved down the birth canal. She pushed again and delivered the baby's head. I carefully rotated it as I'd been taught, verified the cord hadn't prolapsed, and asked Daphne to push again, delivering the baby's shoulders. At that point, the little boy easily exited the birth canal, and I transferred him to Heather's waiting arms.

"You have a baby boy!" I announced. "Doctor Mastriano, suction bulb!"

She moved to use a small rubber bulb to suction mucous and other fluids from the baby's nose and mouth, and was greeted with a strong cry.

"Clamp!" I demanded.

Alice handed me a normal ED clamp, which would have to do for our purposes, and I clamped the cord close to the baby's navel. I placed another clamp a few inches further along the cord, then Alice handed me surgical scissors, which I used to cut the cord.

"Apgar?" I asked Doctor Mastriano.

"Estimate at 8," she replied.

The monitor blared.

"WHOA!" Heather exclaimed. "Her BP just dropped!"

Before a conscious thought of why, I KNEW what had happened as Daphne moaned and blood gushed from her vagina.

"Alice! Amp of Pitocin in the IV bag!" I ordered as I began a gentle external uterine massage.

"Blood loss volume?" Doctor Mastriano asked.

"Estimate 300ccs on the floor," I said. "Let's hang a unit of plasma to be safe."

Jake came into the room pushing a neonatal cart, followed by an irate nurse who was berating him and demanding he return the cart.

"Nurse!" Doctor Mastriano commanded. "LEAVE THIS EXAM ROOM!"

Fortunately, the nurse complied and Jake set the brakes on the neonatal cart and plugged it in.

"Heather, place the baby on the warmer, please."

"How's she doing, Mike?" Doctor Mastriano asked.

"Just that one gush of blood," I said. "Her BP is already coming up. Do you want to manage the placenta or check the baby?"

"I'll manage the placenta; you delivered, so you check the baby."

We quickly switched places, I changed my gloves, and went over to the bawling infant on the warmer. I warmed my stethoscope bell by holding it under the heat lamp for a few seconds and verified what I knew from the loud bawling — the baby had clear lungs and a strong heartbeat. I checked his eyes, which were clear, and saw no signs of jaundice.

"She's coming around, Doctor," Heather announced.

"Wha…what…happened?" Daphne asked.

"You lost some blood," I said. "But you're OK, and you have a very healthy baby boy. Would you like to hold him?"

"Ya…yes," she said.

I carefully picked up the baby and carried him to his mom and helped her hold him.

"Hi, Tommy," she cooed.

"Five minute Apgar is 10," I announced. "No jaundice."

I had one more thing to do, and that was the heel stick to verify blood glucose. Tommy cried loudly when I pricked his heel, but there was no helping that.

"Blood glucose is normal," I announced.

"Cartwright, OB," Doctor Marilyn Cartwright announced, coming into the room with a student.

I was tempted to give her a piece of my mind, but that could wait.

"Daphne Reardon, seventeen; delivered a baby boy vaginally with no tearing; lost about 300ccs of blood; Pitocin and Ringer's, plus a unit of plasma; LOC about two minutes; Pulse 110; BP 90/60; PO₂ 99%. Well-formed baby boy; initial Apgar 8; five-minute Apgar 10; no jaundice; glucose 38; good breath and heart sounds."

"Hi, Daphne, I'm Doctor Cartwright from OB. Looks like you had an adventure! How are you feeling?"

"Tired and week," Daphne said.

"Let me examine you and your baby, then we'll get you upstairs. Mike, I have this."

"OK," I replied. "Jake, Alice, stay, please, until our charges are taken upstairs."

Doctor Mastriano, Heather, and I left the room and stripped off our gowns and gloves.

"Mike?" Doctor Williams called out. "Got a minute?"

"Yes," I replied, certain I knew what it was about.

I waved to Heather to follow and wasn't surprised to see Doctor Mastriano walking with us to the Attending's office.

"Let me guess," I said. "An irate call from the charge nurse in OB, right?"

"She said your med student stole a neonatal cart."

"They'll get it back in about twenty or thirty minutes," I replied. "It's occupied by a newborn baby boy that Isabella and I delivered because OB was too busy to bother to come down, or even send us a nurse with a delivery tray."

"She left out that part," Doctor Williams said.

"Of course she did," Isabella interjected. "They blew us off. Mike did a fantastic job on the delivery."

"How are mom and baby?" Doctor Williams asked.

"Good," I replied. "A bit of blood loss following delivery, but Pitocin and plasma resolved that. Baby is healthy, and mom won't need sutures. Marilyn Cartwright basically kicked us out of the exam room, but I left Jake and Alice with her and her student. They'll take mom and baby upstairs."

"I'll give Norm Zenker a call. Make sure the chart is fully updated with all the relevant details."

"Will do."

We left his office and Heather and I went back to the exam room, picked up the chart, and made all the necessary entries and notation, including the flat-out refusal of OB to send a doctor or a nurse, and my order to Jake to appropriate a neonatal cart. That would keep him out of trouble. When I'd completed the chart, I signed it and set it down on the counter.

"Let me see the chart, please," Doctor Cartwright requested.

I handed it to her, anticipating her response. She was a Resident, so anything she said carried the same weight as what I said. In the end, Doctor Northrup and Doctor Zenker would fight it out, if necessary.

"You didn't have to be a jerk about it," Doctor Cartwright said.

"I simply recorded the facts," I said. "Let's leave it to our Attendings to sort out."

"Doctor Mike?" Daphne said.

"Yes?" I asked, moving over next to the bed.

"Thank you."

"You're welcome. Tommy is the first baby I've ever delivered."

"Wow! Really?"

"Really. I'm a trauma surgeon. I was trained to deliver babies, but it's not what I normally do. Good luck with your son."

"Thanks."

I left the room and Nicki waved me over.

"Mr. and Mrs. Reardon are in the waiting room."

"Let me check and see if Daphne wants to see them."

I went back into the room.

"Your mom and dad are here," I said. "Do you want to see them?"

"They can wait until she's upstairs," Doctor Cartwright said.

"Daphne is still in the ED," I said. "So it's up to me. Daphne?"

"Yes, please."

"I'll bring them in for a minute."

"Against my advice," Doctor Cartwright declared.

I wanted to give the typical teenage response — 'whatever!' — about the turf war, but I simply let it go. Heather and I went out to the waiting room.

"Mr. and Mrs. Reardon?" I asked.

A couple who were sitting side-by-side stood up, and I walked over to them.

"Your daughter is fine; she delivered a healthy baby boy about fifteen minutes ago. She wants to see you, but you'll only be able to stay for about two minutes because we need to get her upstairs to OB."

"Did you deliver the baby?" Mrs. Reardon asked.

"I did."

"Thank you!"

"You're welcome. If you'll follow us, I'll take you to your daughter and grandson."

Heather and I escorted them into the exam room and I introduced them to an obviously unhappy Doctor Cartwright, and they both moved to Daphne's side.

"He's beautiful, Honey!" Mrs. Reardon said.

"Doctor, why is she being given blood?" Mr. Reardon asked.

"She lost a small amount right after she delivered, which is not out of the ordinary. In the Emergency Department, we're very cautious, so we gave her a unit of plasma to ensure there were no problems. Her vital signs are good, and both your daughter and grandson are fine."

"Thank you, Doctor," Mr. Reardon said.

"This was the first baby he delivered, Dad!" Daphne declared, sounding stronger.

"First?"

"I'm a trauma surgeon," I said. "But we all know how to deliver babies, and there wasn't enough time for an obstetrician to get here after the paramedics brought Daphne in."

That wasn't quite true, but I wasn't going to air our dirty laundry in public, given Daphne and Tommy were both OK.

"Dad, do you have your Polaroid?" Daphne asked.

"In your mom's purse," she said.

"Doctor Mike, could we take a picture?"

"Sure," I agreed.

I posed with Daphne and Tommy while her dad took three Polaroid pictures, one of which he handed to me. I thanked them, then Heather and I left.

"Half-a-dozen walk-ins waiting," Nicki said.

I'd noticed a relatively full waiting room, so that didn't surprise me.

"Heather, grab the first chart and we'll get started."

Four hours later, after treating eight walk-ins and handling one paramedic run, I managed to get a dinner break and called Clarissa, who met me in the cafeteria. After we got our food, I handed her the Polaroid.

"Something you need to tell me, Petrovich?" Clarissa asked with a smirk and an arched eyebrow.

I chuckled, "I didn't place the order; I was just the delivery service."

"Wait! What?!"

"OB blew us off, so I delivered little Tommy there."

"Jesus, Petrovich! I can't leave you unattended for thirty seconds without you finding ways to get into mischief!"

"It's not my fault that OB completely blew us off! I asked for a consult and they were 'too busy'; I asked for a nurse with an OB tray and they didn't send one; I finally sent my Fourth Year to steal a neonatal cart and an OB nurse followed him, berating him the entire way."

"What the…?"

"Who knows? Brent Williams called Norm Zenker, and they got into it, so I think Brent kicked it to Northrup."

"Any complications?"

"About 300ccs of blood on the floor, but just that one gush; Pitocin and plasma brought her BP back. OB delivered the placenta, then took her up. In addition to a healthy baby, Isabella Mastriano and I worked together, and she actually gave me a compliment in front of Brent Williams."

"Will wonders never cease! How old is that girl? She looks young."

"Seventeen, but her parents seemed supportive."

"There are actually a few rational people out there!"

"All the ones I saw in the two parishes growing up and in college had rational parents. Orthodox Christians generally don't wig out about it, even if they disapprove of the behavior that led to that point."

"And if that were Rachel?"

"I wouldn't love her any less, and I certainly wouldn't do anything to interfere with my relationship with my grandchild, who had no control over his or her birth! That said, I'd strongly prefer the traditional order of betrothal, crowning, baby."

"I saw her and Abi on Friday night, and those two are going to be holy terrors when they're teenagers!"

"What makes you think Milena's daughter, who is also Anicka's granddaughter, will be trouble?" I asked with a grin.

"YOU! But you can't get the trifecta!"

"God forbid! Kris and I are still going to be together when that is possible. Not to mention I'm twenty-five years older!"

"If Anicka can be with a guy who is that much younger…"

"You're a troublemaker, Lissa!"

"Why do you think God put me here?" she asked with a smirk.

"I might point a different direction for the source of the thorn in my side!"

"You didn't put your thorn in my _side_, Petrovich!"

"Oh, stop!"

"If you _prick_ me, do I not…leak?" Clarissa smirked.

"Well, Commander Datette, you absolutely were fully functional and there were a broad variety of techniques employed!"

"Datette? Seriously?"

"Dat-annette?" I suggested.

"Ugh."

"Datress?" I offered. "Or maybe Datrix?"

"Just stop it!" Clarissa demanded. "Data is an asexual android who happens to have male anatomy!"

"I'm not sure about that. I'd say his positronic matrices were encoded for being male in the same way my body is encoded by XY and yours by XX. Except for very rare genetic anomalies, those are immutable. It's implied that the positronic matrices have some immutable properties, and I suspect gender is one of them. But that's idle speculation because no such thing exists at this point. The best we have is animatronics and scripted responses."

"Do you think we'll get there?"

"Computers are increasingly more powerful and smaller, so I think we'll see continual improvements. What we'll have by the 24th century is as unknowable as the twentieth century was to the sixteenth! Well, unless you're a time traveler or alien like Leonardo da Vinci!"

Clarissa laughed, "That's your explanation for him?"

"Give me a better one! In the early sixteenth century, he excelled as a painter, draftsman, engineer, scientist, theorist, sculptor, and architect! Mr. Black pointed out that da Vinci made substantial discoveries in anatomy, civil engineering, hydrodynamics, geology, optics, and tribology, but because he did not publish his findings, they had little direct influence on subsequent scientific and technological advances."

"Tribology?"

"Greek, of course. It has a false friend in 'tri', but the root is actually 'tribo', which means 'I rub', and it's the science of surfaces interacting with each other. Think friction, lubrication, and wear."

"Hmm…" Clarissa smirked.

"Nice to see you down in the gutter with me, Lissa!" I chuckled.

"You don't really think he was a time traveler or alien, do you?"

"Of course not, but him being a polymath so far ahead of his time makes you wonder."

We finished our meal, and I returned to the ED while Clarissa went back to Internal Medicine."

_August 20, 1989, Rutherford, Ohio_

On Sunday morning, we'd left the house as planned and arrived at Holy Transfiguration in Rutherford about ten minutes before Matins began. Rachel was happy as she was able to sit on the floor with Tasha's daughter Larisa, Elaine's daughter April, and two other toddler girls. I almost laughed aloud when Larisa shooed off two boys who wanted to sit with them, knowing that in about ten years, it would be the boys trying to avoid the girls. My nephew Michael chose to sit at my feet, rather than with my sister and Paul.

Worshiping at Holy Transfiguration always brought back memories of growing up, and seeing Mrs. Orlov made me smile when I thought about how she'd helped me overcome my fear — terror, if I was honest — of talking to Tasha as a teenager. That seemed a lifetime ago, as did everything else that had happened growing up. I remembered longing to be a doctor, and how far in the future it had seemed, and now, I was standing in the same nave as a doctor, thinking how long ago I'd been in fourth grade.

Many of the same people were in the nave, though significantly older, and there were plenty of new people who I knew only in passing. The parish had largely recovered from the scandals that had occurred while Father Herman was pastor, and the parish had an excellent shepherd in Father Alexi, who was basically my age. Missing, of course, was my dad, who didn't attend church, and in some ways, saw himself similar to how Frank Bush saw himself.

When the services ended, everyone left the church, as the parish hall was being set up for the reception, which would follow Tasha's marriage ceremony, which meant no shared meal. Kris, Rachel, and I drove to Liz's house, where we were joined by my grandparents, my mom and Stefan, and Elaine and April.

"Three Michaels!" my step-father observed.

"Yeah, well, I sure as heck wasn't going to use my dad's name!" Liz declared.

"Elizabeth," Mom warned.

"Well, it's true!" My sister replied feistily.

"Be polite, Liz," Paul said.

Liz rolled her eyes the way she always had when she'd been corrected as a teenager, and I couldn't help but laugh.

"Mike had an exciting day yesterday!" Kris declared. "He delivered a baby!"

"Not by choice!" I quickly interjected.

"In the ER?" Mom asked.

"Yes. She came by ambulance in active labor with the baby crowning. I called for OB, but before they could arrive, it was time to deliver, so with help from another doctor, a nurse, and medical students, I managed not to drop the baby!"

Everyone laughed.

"I have a picture," Kris said, proffering the Polaroid I'd brought home.

"How old is this girl?" my grandmother asked. "She looks so young."

"Seventeen," I replied. "The baby's name is Tommy."

"And they ruined the picture by including you?" Liz teased.

"He'd have needed supplemental O₂ if YOU had been there, Lizard Breath!"

"Children, play nice!" Mom ordered.

"It's hard to believe they're twenty-eight and twenty-five!" Paul said, shaking his head.

"Be careful, Paul Reynolds!" Liz threatened.

Just then a timer rang, signifying that the soup Liz had put in a crock pot before church was ready, so after I changed Rachel's diaper, we all went to the table to eat. I'd brought Rachel's food with us, but I did get her to try the beef, barley, and vegetable soup, which she seemed to like. She really liked the fresh black bread my grandmother had made and brought with her, as did I, though I had significantly more butter on mine.

When we finished lunch, we put the kids down for naps in the hopes that they'd do OK during the crowning ceremony and reception. The adults spent the next two hours together, then after changing Rachel into a cute dress, we headed back to Holy Transfiguration.

"Congratulations, Tasha!" I said when I saw her in the narthex in a simple white dress. "You look beautiful!"

"Thank you, Mishka!"

She ducked into a classroom and shut the door, and we found a place to stand just inside the nave. About ten minutes later, Father Alexi, Chris, Tasha, and the Orlovs took their places, and the betrothal and crowning services began. About an hour later, everyone gathered in the parish hall for the reception.

"Will there be dancing?" Kris asked when we took our seats at a table with the rest of my family.

"Yes. Father Alexi received a blessing from the bishop to allow dancing in the parish hall on this occasion. We're not as strict as ROCOR on that topic. I hope you won't be scandalized when Father Alexi dances with Matushka Nicole!"

"No, and I'm also not scandalized by the fact that she is visibly pregnant, nor the means of becoming so!"

"I would hope not!" I chuckled. "Given that's on our agenda!"

"Gross, Mikey!" Liz declared.

"And just how did Michael Paul enter this world? Hmm?"

Liz stuck her tongue out at me and I just laughed. A minute later, Father Alexi gave a blessing, and some of the teens went to the tables with the food to prepare plates for the wedding party. Once they were done, the rest of the congregation, plus Chris' family and friends, lined up to get their food. I ended up in line right behind Susana Razumovsky, who smiled and surreptitiously winked.

"How are you, Susana?" I asked.

"Great! School starts in a week, and I'm looking forward to it. Do you think Rachel would be OK if I picked her up? I'm not sure she remembers me."

"Rachel, this is Susana," I said. "She helped take care of you before Mommy."

Susana picked up Rachel, who didn't protest.

"She looks so much like…" Susana said, her voice trailing off.

"She does. You've met Kris, right?"

"Yes, of course! Hi, Kris."

"Hi, Susana. I didn't know you were part of the group Serafima put together to help Mike."

"It was mostly girls from Saint Michael," Susana said. "It was only Natalie and me from Holy Transfiguration. Well, and Tasha, of course. Mike, did you know Natalie married?"

"No. It must have not been at church because we see the announcements in the bulletin."

"She eloped to Vegas with a guy about two weeks ago."

"Not Orthodox?"

"No. A guy she met while working. She only knew him a few weeks before they got married."

"That's crazy, even by my standards!"

Kris and Susana both laughed, then Susana had to put Rachel down as we'd reached the food tables. We filled our plates, then returned to our tables to eat. Once everyone had eaten, Chris and Tasha cut the cake, then had their first dance to _Every Woman in the World_ by Air Supply. I danced with Kris, and the two of us danced with Rachel, but I felt it wise not to dance with anyone else.

Fortunately, Chris and Tasha left just before 8:00pm, which allowed Kris, Rachel, and me to head home without giving offense, as we would have a potentially long day on Monday with our interviews for Kris' citizenship application.

_August 21, 1989, Columbus, Ohio_

"I prefer to affirm, not swear," I said when the INS Examination Officer asked me to raise my right hand.

"Do you affirm that all statements you will make shall be truthful and complete, to the best of your knowledge?"

"I do."

"Then we'll begin. State your name, address, birthdate, and social security number."

I did, and the officer wrote all of those items on a form, then asked a series of basic background questions, including my birthplace, my parents' names, my siblings' names, my education, and any credentials.

"No medical license?"

"No. You become a doctor upon graduation from medical school, and work under the supervision of a licensed physician. I'll take my trauma boards sometime next year to become certified and receive my license; I'll take surgical boards in about six years."

"What exactly is a 'trauma surgeon'?"

"The simplest answer is that it's a trained surgeon who works in the Emergency Department, what you probably call the ER. Most doctors do one or the other — surgery or emergency medicine. I'm doing both, with the goal of being better prepared to treat serious injuries."

"OK. Have you ever gone by any other names, even casually?"

"Petrovich, Mikhail, Mishka, Mischa, Mikey, and Mike."

"I'll assume the last five are all derived from your first name, but Petrovich?"

"From my dad's name. It's typical for Russian friends to call each other by their patronymic, which serves as a middle name. Only one person calls me that — my friend and colleague Clarissa Saunders. In Russian, my name would be Mikhail Petrovich Loucks. As you can see on the questionnaire, my mother's maiden name is Borodin, which is Russian. Loucks is Dutch."

"Do you have any ties to the Soviet Union?"

"Only in the sense that my maternal grandparents escaped from the USSR and came to Ohio via Alaska. Similarly, Kris' grandparents emigrated to France from the USSR."

"Do you speak Russian?"

"Passably," I replied, electing not to use my 'retarded toddler' comment with a government official.

"Did you bring certified copies of your birth certificate, marriage certificate, and your first wife's death certificate?"

I removed them from the folder, which contained dozens of documents that either the government had requested or Tom Kirkland, our attorney, had suggested. He was with Kris, as after a discussion just before my interview, we had agreed I didn't need representation.

"What were the circumstances surrounding your wife's death?" he asked.

I gave him the strict medical answer, and wasn't surprised when he asked me to explain, which I did.

"How did you meet Kris Korolyov?"

"We were introduced by her cousin, Oksana Ivashko, who I've known since I was in grade school."

"When was that?"

"August last year."

"And you married on January 1 this year?"

"Yes," I replied, suppressing the urge to tell him to look at the marriage certificate on the table in front of him.

"Why so quickly?" he asked.

"We met, were attracted to each other, discussed our life goals, the practicality of a marriage given the hours I need to dedicate to the study and practice of medicine, Rachel's needs, and our shared faith."

"Tell me about your wedding ceremony."

I described the ceremony and waited for the question I knew was coming.

"Where did you take your honeymoon?"

"My medical training didn't allow much time off, so we simply stayed at the Hotel LeVeque for five nights. Once I'd graduated from medical school, we went to Gatlinburg, Tennessee and stayed at the Greystone Lodge for nine nights. We took our daughter with us."

"You mean, your daughter."

"No, I mean _our_ daughter. Kris adopted Rachel in April, and we changed Rachel's name to Korolyov-Loucks."

"But Kris did not change her name, correct?"

"Correct. In France, women don't change their legal names, and we honored that."

"How often are you and Kris intimate?"

"As often as possible," I replied. "But I work thirty-six-hour shifts, so it's irregular given my need to sleep after those shifts."

"What side of the bed do you sleep on?"

"The right side as you stand at the foot of the bed."

"You consummated your marriage the same day?"

"Yes."

"When is that last time you had intercourse?"

"Friday night."

"Where?"

"In our bed."

"Moving on, do you share a bank account?"

"Yes."

"Whose name are your cars registered under?"

"My Mustang is in my name; Kris' Tempo is in both our names."

"And your lease?"

"Both our names."

"What about the utilities?"

"Those are in my name, because of the necessary credit checks. Kris graduated from High School in May and started at Ohio State in July."

"Do you have your pay stub?"

"I do," I said, taking it out of the folder, along with the 1099 for Code Blue, and sliding them across the table.

"What is 'Code Blue'?"

"A band I have with some friends that we started in college. We played a gig on Friday night and Kris and I sang _Endless Love_ as a duet, which we've done since she and I became betrothed last September."

"Betrothed?"

"Engaged. Russian Orthodox Christians use the word 'betrothed', and there's a church ceremony associated with it. It's separate from the crowning ceremony, which is what our marriage ceremony is called."

"Who officiated at your wedding?"

"Bishop JOHN of Ohio, whose secular name is Jeremiah Loch."

"Moving on, what do you and Kris do together?"

"Remember, I work ninety hours a week, and have to sleep, so we have limited time. On Saturday mornings, we go to band practice, then do our weekly shopping. We attend Vespers, which is evening prayer, on Saturday evenings, then Matins and the Divine Liturgy on Sunday morning. That's morning prayer and then the rough equivalent of a Roman Catholic Mass. We have dinner together at home on Wednesdays, Fridays, and Sundays, and once a week, Kris comes to Moore Memorial Hospital so we can have dinner on a night when I have a long shift."

"Who cares for Rachel?"

"We share duties," I replied. "I do most of it when I'm home, otherwise it's Kris. When she's in class, Rachel alternates between the hospital daycare, her grandparents', her aunt's, and her best friend's houses."

"Which grandparents?"

"My deceased wife's parents," I said, electing not to use 'reposed'. "And the aunt is Kris' sister, Lyudmila. The best friend is Abi Greene, daughter of a professor I'm friends with who teaches at William Howard Taft."

"Who is your wife's best friend?"

"Her sister, actually. Her closest friends are two girls from church, Viktoria and Deborah, and she's also close friends with my friends Clarissa and Lara."

"Who's your best friend?"

"Doctor Clarissa Saunders."

"A woman?"

"Yes. A colleague I met in college."

"Best male friend?"

"Robby Jackson."

"Can you explain your version of an interview conducted in Chicago on July 18th, 1985?"

What I wanted to say versus what I would say were very different.

"The INS officer was concerned about my first wife's age, and whether we were legitimately married. Many of the questions were of the same character as you asked today. We answered them, and I believe my wife expressed her outrage, though I can't be sure because we were in separate interview rooms. Once the officers who interviewed us were satisfied, which took about twenty-five minutes, we were admitted."

"Moving on. Do you plan to have children?"

"Yes. In fact, Kris stopped taking her birth control pills on Saturday. Our hope is to have a baby in July or August."

"Who cared for your daughter between her birth and your marriage?"

"I did, with significant help from women from church, my friends, a professor, my deceased wife's family, and my family. My grandfather and some of his friends paid my rent and paid the utilities."

"Why was that?"

"Medical school is basically a full-time thing, especially the last two years, when I was on clinical rotations which were between sixty and eighty hours per week. That meant I couldn't work. I had savings, but it would have completely depleted them and left me no margin of error."

"Moving on, again. Have you been truthful with me today?"

"Yes."

"Are you engaged in an attempt to deceive me or commit immigration fraud?"

"No."

"That's all the questions I have for you. Your wife will receive a determination letter in six to eight weeks."

"Thank you."

"I'll make some photocopies, then return your documents. Please wait here."

He left and returned about five minutes later.

"Have a nice day, Doctor Loucks."

"Thank you. You too."

He escorted me to the lobby of the office, and I sat down to wait for Kris. About forty minutes later, she came out, along with her attorney, John Burge. Mr. Burge and I shook hands and I could tell from his eyes that we shouldn't say anything in the office. We left the office, rode the elevator down to the ground floor, then walked to the parking garage.

"I think it went well," Attorney Burge said. "I didn't sense any indication they felt Kris was being deceptive, which, in the end, is what matters."

"Not the truth?" I asked.

"Technically, yes, but if they feel you're being deceptive, they'll dig and could, ultimately, deny the application based simply on that sense of deceit. And remember, immigration is discretionary, and appeals of adverse determinations are difficult, at best. But don't worry about that. Kris was charming and answered all their questions."

"Thanks," I said.

"Kris, you have your citizenship test on the 31st, so make sure you study. Assuming you pass, which I expect, you'll receive a determination letter sometime in late September or early October."

"Thank you," Kris said.

Kris and I shook hands with Mr. Burge, then walked to our cars so Kris could go to class and I could get to the hospital for the remainder of my shift.