Day Six

October 6, 2008 at 7:47 pm 2 comments

I realized my posts are REALLY LONG.  So I am going to split them up more, hopefully make them more readable and ensure that I have enough material for 31 days.

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She had not grown at all in between visits to the doctor.   

I never went back home the morning we left the girls to build a fort with their nanny under the dinning room table.   

I was admitted to the hospital because the doctor wanted to keep close watch on our daughter.  It was decided she needed extra nutrients and vitamins which in turn would bulk her up and get her back on track.  They also hooked my belly up with a monitor to follow heart beats.  I lie in bed and watched the squiggly green lines on the black screen dip low during a contraction.  So low that you couldn’t even see the line any more on the screen.   

The jolly doctor was replaced by another doctor.  He was a tall man with tan skin and a big smile.  His fuzzy brown hair was gone in the back of his head.  He wore glasses.  A tooth in the corner of his mouth was gold.  He looked the part of the new Ukrainian; an individual in Ukraine who was doing well financially during economic instability.  The Ukrainian who figured out how to make money.  The first two buttons of his crisp white shirt were open.  A heavy gold chain sparkled on his neck. He wore two huge gold rings covering his knuckles and was excited to have an American patient because he was learning English.   

Through out the afternoon my new doctor spewed and sputtered, paused and grunted, searching for the right words to say in English.  I would answer him in Russian, just to let him know that I could and then wait for him to find the next word he was looking for.  It did not seem to matter to him that I was in the middle of a crisis or that I really wasn’t in the mood to teach English as a second language.

I am not sure if he was aloof towards our situation or if he was just confident.   

“Wait and see,” he liked to say.  He claimed we needed time to see if the baby would respond to the liquid pumping vitamins and glucose into my veins.  Whatever questions I had, “will we deliver the baby today?”, “is she sick?”, “why is her heart rate dropping at every contraction?” his answer was, “wait and see.”  I assumed he knew what he was doing.  I wanted to trust him but I had an uneasy feeling that the baby was in danger.  Really, what did I know?  I gulped my uneasiness down every time it rose up in my throat.     

“It’s OK, don’t worry” the doctor told me over and over, speaking English with a thick Ukrainian accent, patting my leg.   

And a few hours later I received a phone call that probably saved our baby’s life.  

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Entry filed under: 31 for 21, Books and Writing, Culture differences, Down syndrome, Former Soviet Union, Gillian Marchenko, Having a baby, Hospital stays, Kiev, Russian, Ukraine.

Day Five Day Seven

2 Comments Add your own

  • 1. Jennifer  |  October 6, 2008 at 11:04 pm

    You know how to leave us hanging on waiting for more. And I don’t think the posts were too long. I’m lovin them however you choose to post this story!
    —Jen

    Reply
  • 2. qdawg  |  October 7, 2008 at 7:30 pm

    what a cliffhanger

    Reply

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