To Sing Frogs Chapter 15d

Me, telling a sick, little Kirrill goodbye

“Five hundred.”

“How can I help you if you don’t tell me the truth?”

Tatiana looked helplessly at Stass. “Six hundred.”

“Dr. Tatiana, you are a medical doctor, correct?”

“Yes.”

“You have sworn to do your best to keep all of these children in the best health that you can…”

“Yes.”

“You are required by your commitment to give medicine to the sickest children who can be helped…”

“…yes…”

“Kirrill is not the sickest child here. Not by far…”

“No.”

“But in a perfect world, Kirrill would get medicine.”

“Russia is not a perfect world,” she growled accusatorily, but still carefully, almost as if she should have been looking back over her shoulder.

“Nor is the United States. How much money to get all of the medicine you need for a month? That should get you through the worst of the winter.”

When we finished I counted out ten one hundred dollar bills to Stass and asked him to have Tatiana call in her order to the pharmacy. When she had done it I asked him if he would mind picking it up while we continued to visit with Kirrill.

The doctor wanted us to stay in her office where she could perform obeisance until Stass returned. I told our coordinator Tatiana was giving these children her life. We were only giving them a little bit of money. She bowed her head humbly when he translated. In Russia, doctors have chosen their profession based on abilities and passion. Even bus drivers make more money than they do. It was obvious to me who the real saint was.

I wanted to get away from ramshackle chairs and leaning office furniture. I preferred to hide among fairytales and puppet stages so I made up an excuse. “I know Dr. Tatiana is very busy,” I said to Stass. “Really we just want to go back to the playroom and spend more time with Kirrill.”

The director shot out from behind her desk and shook my hand with both of hers. Then she rushed over and hugged Amy. Her Russian words came fast and flowing. I didn’t listen to the translation. I didn’t want to be called an angel by a saint who was giving her life to the least fortunate of children. It simply wasn’t true and it made me feel uncomfortable. I was cordial but got us out of the office as soon as I could.

Later, Tatiana and Stass walked back into the playroom. Stass handed me a receipt and some Russian notes left after the currency exchange and purchase. The doctor wanted to start into another halleluiah chorus. I cut her off, handed her the receipt and told her to turn it in. “When you finally get your budget working use the reimbursement for whatever comes out of your own pocket,” I said.

She assured me she would do no such thing. The money would be used on the children. Still, she appreciated the gesture.

I was glad to hear she took it the right way. You never know when someone like Tatiana might return a favor.

I held Kirrill for several moments and kissed his fevered head before returning him to Amy. I knew no matter how quickly the adoption process moved it would be a long wait.

“How am I supposed to leave him here like this?” Amy cried. Tatiana put her arm around my wife and told her he would be fine. She spoke soothingly to Amy while promising her over and over that Kirrill would be well taken care of. She would see to it herself. When we returned my wife would find the little boy healthy and happy, the director assured her.

Amy couldn’t let him go so I told her I needed to hold him one more time to tell him goodbye. She kissed him on the forehead and lingered while she felt the heat. Then she carefully handed him over to me.

I held him for a couple of seconds and kissed him again on his scorching forehead. I handed him to the doctor and began to lead my wife away before she could take him back.

Amy came apart as we walked out into the hallway and started down the stairs. I felt my arm shake as it draped over her shoulders pulling her toward me but she would only look down at her feet while we made our exit. I should have followed her example. It was too late. Halfway down the stairs was the stained glass window. I was forced to face the butterflies again.

 

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