Chapter Fifteen

I stayed an entire month at the hospital. I had two weeks of treatment and strict restriction to the hospital and grounds, then two more weeks of much more pleasant therapy, along with a relative freedom of movement about the city.

I was lucky to have such good doctors. Perhaps it was only my personal impression, but I couldn’t help but notice that Dr. Bagreev was a well-built, muscular man. One could say the same about his character. Even his jokes were too direct and strong. But no one took offense.

There was a remarkable woman with me in the ward. I had no idea why Valentina was here medically, but she was the owner of a very unusual and rare surname: Netahata, a name out of Ukrainian legend. The one that means that the bearer of the name isn’t living in their own home. Actually, in the sense that those of the family Netahata have toys in the attic.

After I found out about this unfortunate last name, I decided to give a little moral support to the woman.

“Don’t worry, Valentina, soon you’ll get married and will finally be able to change your last name to a normal one.”

“Oh, I am married,” said Valentina serenly.

“Really? Then why didn’t you keep your maiden name?”

“Well, my maiden name was also Netahata.”

“That cannot be!”

“That’s right, Polina. All my youth I dreamed of getting married one day, just so I could change my name,” Valentina said. “Then I met a guy right in our own village. Fell in love with him without asking for the family name first.”

“Who would have thought!”

“You know there are a lot of Ukrainian villages where one last name dominates. In some there are a lot of Ponamarenkos. In others, it’s Kotsiuba. In our village there are several families with the last name of Netahata.”

“Hmmm,” I could only mumble.

Our kind Dr. Bagreev always cracked jokes about that name of Valentina’s.

“So, Valentina, still not that hata? It’s okay. Soon we will heal you and your hata will become the right one. Then you could change your last name to Tahata, the Correct House!”

Valentina was ready to take offense, and the doctor knew he was in hot water.

Bagreev saw a jar of pickled cucumbers on the table and said, “Ah, pickled cucumbers! All we need is a glass of bathtub vodka and a nice fat piece of salo–the perfect combination!”

“I will call my mom, she will bring everything immediately!” Valentina mouthed in pure Ukrainian and with the strong accent specific to her village.

We all laughed together.

On the day of my discharge, Dr. Bagreev invited me into his office and said, “Sit down and listen.”

Dr. Bagreev was sitting at the table and doing nothing just looked at the paperwork. A minute. Two. I start wondering: Does he going to speak? Then he got up. Gathered folders that were there in a pile and put them on the edge of the table. He didn’t look at me but walked through the room to window. Then he start talking. Quietly, slowly and surely, like a bud was talking to himself.

This all seemed very familiar. But I sat down and listened.

“I have been working as a psychiatrist for nearly thirty years. During my rather extensive practice, I’ve had more than a hundred cases of people who decided to commit suicide, thus to solve their accumulated problems, or to get rid of their pain. Some of them survived, but mostly they didn’t. As a doctor, I know that at such moments, solving those horrible problems and getting rid of the mental or physical pain looks like the sweetest candy; the achievement of the most cherished dream.

“The human brain can lose, for a short time, the most powerful feeling in the world, the instinct of self-preservation. Only a very strong person, I repeat, only a very strong person can find the strength to resist this temptation and ask for help.

“The greatest complication is the realization that you cannot cope with this by yourself. Understand and accept this fact. You have to find the strength to ask for help, to confess your weakness. So you should know, my dear, that only really strong people can accomplish such a feat.”

At this moment, apparently, a doubt reflected on my face because Bagreev repeated, “Yes, yes. For a person in such a situation, this is a feat. In my practice I’ve had only three cases like this. One of them is yours.”

I stared at him with my eyes wide open, and listening as if his voice was the voice of an angel. Something in my soul started growing and strengthening. Something was changing.

“And now I’m going to tell you the most important thing of all. Listen, my dear, and never forget what I tell you. You are strong. You are beautiful. You are a smart and dauntless woman. And if you are able to overcome this, you’ll be able to overcome everything, and achieve anything you want in your life.”

He leaned over the desk toward me. “Do you understand? Anything.” And then he sat down behind his desk and looked at me.

This man, so rigorous? and so kind at the same time, Doctor Bagreev, settled a feeling of strength and confidence in me. The belief that I was strong, that I could do anything, and would be able to achieve all my desires and dreams.

And things started to work out.