Good Medicine Junior YearChapter 65 Developing A Relationship
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Good Medicine - Junior YearChapter 64: Am I Allowed To Be Nervous? free porn video
January 20, 1984, McKinley, Ohio
“I actually think that might be a good idea,” Doctor Mercer said when we spoke on Friday afternoon.
“What kind of time limits would you suggest?”
“I think I’d like to wait until I see you on the 11th. I’ll see Angie a dozen times by then, and I’ll have a better idea what to tell you.”
“How is she?”
“I know it might not have seemed like it, but it lifted her spirits and made her very happy.”
“That’s good to hear. I take it there were no ill effects from our meeting?”
“None that I’ve discerned, but I’m sure you can imagine the problems with counseling someone who is on medication which seriously alters the way they think.”
“Which goes to reinforce the points I made to you about minimizing the use of drugs whenever possible. And why you want to wean her from them.”
“Our positions are probably not all that far off in the end. And we both put the patient’s well-being ahead of our preferences. Sometimes, the only treatments available are less than optimal. That’s something to think about as you train.”
“What?!”I gasped in mock surprise. “You mean to tell me doctors aren’t gods?”
Doctor Mercer laughed, “Medicine is an art, not a science. And while it’s a function of changing language that makes this joke work, we have to practice every day!”
“The difference between say, ‘usual practice’ and ‘baseball practice’?”
“Yes. The former usage is going out of vogue and basically just means something you do regularly; the latter means training for improvement.”
“But aren’t both true? We’re always learning.”
Doctor Mercer laughed, “That’s true, though we have to do our best not to make it at our patients’ expense.”
“I heard a doctor say that you aren’t a real doctor until you kill someone by making a mistake.”
“I don’t buy that for a minute! Yes, there is a non-zero chance you will do something which causes someone’s death, but those kinds of mistakes are much more rare than is implied. Sometimes a patient simply is going to die no matter what you do. Saying that you killed them is a big leap from you treating them and being unable to save them.”
“But what about mistakes?”
“There’s a difference between selecting the wrong option from a range of possible treatments in the heat of a trauma versus being negligent. There really are very few truly negligent acts. They show up on the front page of the paper because they’re rare. And the newspapers love to throw numbers around such as something like ‘there were over 1000 cases of surgical error in the US last year’. Out of millions of surgeries, what’s the percentage?”
“Tiny.”
“Tiny, yes, but that doesn’t change the fact that it’s a real person and a real life, and that the effects are devastating. But that tiny percentage includes many honest mistakes. Very few medical licenses are suspended, and it’s not because people are covering for each other. Yes, that happens, but in most cases, what happened was simply a wrong choice, identified after the fact, with an autopsy and a complete set of records. You won’t have that information in the ER, so you’ll run the protocols which have been developed through long, hard work, starting in military field hospitals and being brought to the public by a pair of doctors who opened the first ‘shock-trauma’ unit in Chicago in the late 60s. We’ve come a long way in fifteen years.
“But things will go wrong, and when they do, you’ll sit in on a Morbidity and Mortality Conference, or M & M, to figure out the cause, and how to prevent it in the future. And you, or some colleague, will write a paper which will be published in the New England Journal of Medicine, or some other publication, teaching everyone else those lessons. Those conferences can be very tough on young doctors, and the intent is NOT to kick you out or strip your license, but to improve medical care for everyone. You WILL have patients die, Mike; there is no avoiding it. But I can’t imagine you being negligent.”
“I guess it’s different for psychologists.”
“We have patients die under our care as well,” she sighed. “You have personal experience with a case that thankfully did not go that way but could have.”
“Jocelyn?”
“Yes. Angie never had suicidal ideations, but without treatment, she might have come to that point.”
“How far from that point was she?”
“Close, Mike. She wasn’t actively trying to kill herself, but she had lost her will to live.”
“How did she get to Buffalo?”
“As best we can piece together from what she said and what the police and FBI investigations turned up, she got on the first available bus in McKinley. That got her to Pittsburgh. She was in Pittsburgh perhaps twenty-four hours, and we’re reasonably sure she never left the bus station. She got on a bus going northeast, and it’s not clear why, because she wasn’t thinking clearly. By the time that bus reached Buffalo, she was basically incoherent from a combination of her emotional state, her illness, dehydration, and low blood sugar.”
“She wasn’t eating or drinking?”
“No. The only personal care she took was to use the toilet, though without eating or drinking that wouldn’t have been necessary past the first day or so.”
“How did she manage to get on the bus without her wallet and ID?”
“Nobody checks, and she had enough cash in her pocket to pay the fare. We believe that came from a check she had cashed a few days previous to her breakdown.”
“She usually carried cash with her. It’s strange that the police never asked me about that.”
“They were careful because they believed you had something to do with her disappearance.”
“Thanks to Dean Parker,” I groused.
“She had it in for you from the beginning, even before I became involved.”
“I think I told you she’d had a long-running feud with the science departments over their use of pure merit for honors programs and their mentoring programs.”
“You did. I take it her resignation resolved the problems?”
“With her, and for now, though she’s attempting to get reinstated. There is no way the university is going to do that while I’m enrolled because my agreement not to sue them was based on her resignation. That said, I’m guessing she’s laying the groundwork to try to come back after I graduate. But forget about her, because I sure would like to!”
“I can’t imagine why,” Doctor Mercer said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
“Yeah. Who got Angie to the hospital?”
“The bus company did, after the driver alerted them to the problem in Buffalo. Because she didn’t have ID and wasn’t coherent, it took a few days before they discovered who she was.”
“I plan to call her next week. I take it that’s still OK?”
“It is. Just be careful, and don’t speak too long. And please call me to let me know what is said.
“Thanks, Doctor Mercer. And I will.”
“You’re welcome. I’ll see you in about four weeks.”
We said ‘goodbye’ and after I hung up, I picked up the phone to call Anna Wilson and let her know that I would visit with Angie, but that I’d need to let her know closer to the weekend what my plans would be. Once that call ended, I joined the study group, and later, after evening prayers, Sophia joined me in bed.
“There is one thing we haven’t talked about,” I said.
We were in our usual ‘comfort’ position — spooned together, my hand cupping her small breast and with me fully inside her.
“What’s that?” she asked.
“Praxis,” I replied.
“Because I don’t go to church as often as you do and don’t follow the strict fasting rules?”
“The entire package,” I said, thrusting gently and rubbing my fingertip across her nipple.
“My grandmothers would be as happy as your grandfather,” she replied.
“Yes, well, my grandfather and I need to have a brief chat.”
Sophia laughed, “Which will be just as effective as my ‘chats’ with my grandmothers!”
“Probably,” I chuckled.
“Do you feel manipulated?”
“No, but the full-court press is a little much. I’m going to do what he wants because it’s what I want, so he can back off, at least a bit.”
“In your dreams!” Sophia laughed. “Ethnic grandparents have only one mode of action — full throttle.”
“My dad’s grandparents never did that kind of thing, but I guess that comes from being in North America for 200 years instead of around fifty.”
“Six generations, or whatever it is, is a long, long time. Your grandparents on your mom’s side and mine all came from the Old Country. Arranged marriages, or at least strongly encouraged ones, doing what your parents told you to do, following in your parents’ footsteps.”
“True, though when my grandparents came here, they adopted more American views and wanted their children to succeed, whatever path they chose. My grandfather was a bit annoyed that my uncle wasn’t at all interested in the church and rarely goes these days. I’m the surrogate.”
“But it doesn’t bother you because your wishes align.”
“That’s true.”
“And the deadline?”
“You know the bishop won’t force me to do anything.”
“No, but you and I, along with everyone else, know that you want to please him.”
“True.”
“But right now, I need YOU to please ME!”
I slid my hand from her breast to the spot just below her tangle of black pubic hair and gently rubbed. It didn’t take long before she moaned softly and shivered. Two more small orgasms followed before I had my own release, after which we cuddled together.
“So what do you think?” I asked.
“I think you know exactly where to touch me!” she teased.
“You like those small orgasms better than big ones?”
“It depends on my mood. We need to talk, so these are better.”
“How long have you been in love with Robby?” I asked.
“I wondered if you knew.”
“I’m a bit slow on the uptake at times. What are you going to do about it?”
“You know the problems that presents for me, right?”
“You did make the comment in Michigan about it being an insult to your family to marry a non-Orthodox guy, not to mention what it would mean for Lee. Though I suppose there’s a solution there, if you wanted one.”
“Me and Robby, and Lee is there as a companion, if you will?”
“That’s already the case, isn’t it? You don’t have to answer, but you’ve been with Robby since you and I were first together.”
“Yes.”
“Does Lee know about that?”
“It’s an unspoken truth. He understands, and I’ve never, ever interfered in their relationship.”
“But does he know that Robby is also in love with you?”
“He’s never said anything, but I can’t imagine he doesn’t know. I suppose my situation with Robby is similar to yours with Clarissa.”
“The difference is, I’m pretty sure Clarissa isn’t bisexual the way Robby is.”
“Somebody has been paying VERY close attention. Nobody knows that except me, Robby, Lee, and Clarissa.”
“I might have had a nudge in the right direction on that.”
Sophia laughed softly, “I’d have been shocked if Clarissa hadn’t said something to you. And I agree, I don’t think she’s bisexual, but I think she needs to prove that to herself.”
“I know. What I’m concerned about is her trying to convince herself that she can go against her nature.”
“She has to make that decision herself, Mike.”
“I’m curious, would you consider an, and sorry for the play on words, unorthodox relationship?”
Sophia laughed, “That’s true in both meanings, actually, if you’re suggesting what I think you’re suggesting.”
“You and Robby marry, and Lee is a partner, however you guys want to structure it.”
“Robby’s dream scenario!” Sophia laughed. “But I’m not sure I could handle watching those two have sex.”
“Watching ANYONE have sex isn’t at the top of my agenda,” I replied. “But you three are really, really tight. I mean, tighter than some married couples I know.”
“Are you trying to talk me out of this experiment?”
“I’m trying to make sure that down the road we don’t hit an impediment which we avoided discussing. And that includes both your and my criteria for a happy, successful relationship. You and I both have clear visions of what we think our futures look like, and we’ve found some important commonalities. The question is, are they enough?”
“This sounds suspiciously like the conversations the «Γιαγιάδες» have!”
“A «бабушка» by any other name would scheme the same!”
Sophia laughed, “Oh for sure! And the Antiochians have their ‘situs’, or however it’s pronounced in Arabic.”
“I think that’s the right way to say it, and yes, the grandmothers from the old country are all like that. They look at the young men, then try to match the girl who best suits him, with the guys having the most respected professions or best families getting the prettiest, most compatible match.”
“Tasha, right?”
“And Katy. But neither of them are a good match because they have their own visions of the future which do not align with mine, AND they are not about to kowtow to the matchmakers. That’s going to be more and more of a problem, though about the time every girl rejects that idea, there won’t be too many people from the Old Country left in the Greek and Russian churches. The Antiochians have more because of the turmoil in the Middle East, especially in Lebanon.”
“So maybe a nice, traditional Lebanese girl who just got off the boat?”
“I’m too American,” I replied. “That would be another culture clash similar to the one with Kimiko, though not quite as pronounced.”
“I’m not saying this is true, but do you wonder if I’m too American and too independent?”
“Not the way your grandmothers would,” I replied. “For me, it’s more of a question of whether that independence comes into conflict with the realities of marrying a doctor who’s likely to be a deacon, and who is very serious about his faith and practice.”
“I think that’s the part Robby doesn’t understand when he and I talked about you. He knows you’re serious, but he thinks there’s some wiggle room. I don’t think there is.”
“Not much, anyway. Which is why I raised the point before.”
“Let’s assume for the moment I can’t commit to that kind of life, do you truly think there is someone who could?”
“Tasha has someone in mind, and as has been pointed out to me, there are quite a few eligible girls at the cathedral in Columbus who might be suitable and might have the necessary support network to make things work, even before I graduate medical school.”
“Something Tasha’s parents couldn’t do.”
“Certainly not with the situation with Sasha, but even before that, probably not. Tasha is a bit too free-spirited for her father’s tastes.”
“Me, too! But my dad isn’t quite so serious as hers is. I don’t think we’ll answer this question tonight.”
“Probably not.”
“Would you like to make slow, passionate love to me?”
“Indubitably!”
January 24, 1984, McKinley, Ohio
“Hi, Mikey!” Liz exclaimed when I answered the phone on Tuesday evening.
“Hi, Lizzy! What’s up?”
“I just wanted to call and say ‘Hi’, see how you were doing, and pass a message from Maggie.”
“What’s the message?”
“That she misses you and hopes she can see you before Spring Break in March.”
“Remember I’m going to Gettysburg with Jocelyn and Clarissa.”
“One room?” Liz teased.
“Give me a break!” I chuckled. “As for Maggie, I’m not sure when I’m going to be home. I’m going to see Angie sometime over Presidents’ Day weekend, and maybe I’ll stop home on the way there or back.”
“How is she?”
“In pretty bad shape. She looks a lot like you did that first time I saw you in Columbus.”
“Zombie?”
“That was the word her friend Anna used.”
“When would you be home?”
“I’m not sure, but the weekend is February 18th to the 20th. At a minimum I’ll stop in and see you.”
“Cool. How are things otherwise?”
“Good. And you?”
“Same as before. I just want to finish my Senior year. Four months to go!”
“Are you going to Prom?”
“Probably not. Mom and Dad are planning a graduation party, most likely at Grandpa’s house. The girls are going to throw some kind of big party for Emmy, Hannah, and me. I’m sure you’ll be invited to both. And I know you’ll be at graduation because Tasha, Emmy, Maggie, and I are all graduating the same night!”
“Already on my calendar. It’s exam week, so I’ll need to head back to McKinley right after the ceremony. I hope the parties aren’t planned for that evening.”
“No, just like yours — a few friends and family at the house. I think the party that Mom is planning will be Sunday. The other party is probably Friday, but I’m not sure where it will be.”
“Do you know what day Maggie plans to move?”
Liz laughed, “Probably the second she walks out of the auditorium with her diploma!”
“True. How is Emmy doing?”
“She’s really happy but her dad is royally pissed.”
“Fuck ‘im,” I replied.
“Wow!” Liz guffawed. “My Big Brother said ‘fuck’! In English!”
“And do NOT let Mom hear you say that!”
“They’re at the Nikatopolis’ house. I took a break from the drug-fueled orgy to call you.”
“Popcorn and a love story on TV?”
“You’re just no fun!” she laughed. “Yes. And homework. How is Clarissa doing?”
“Better. She’s still a bit out of sorts, but part of that is because she has to see Glenda every day. They’re still roommates. But Glenda basically turned herself into an outcast because all of my friends love Clarissa and are royally pissed at Glenda for hiding the truth from Clarissa and basically dumping her with no warning.”
“That was pretty low,” Liz said. “I mean, sure, OK, she had to make her decision about where to go to school, but to not tell your girlfriend? Shitty behavior. Have you talked to Jocelyn?”
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