Voices From Chernobyl: The Oral History of a Nuclear Disaster Read Free Page A

Shchukinskaya stop."
    It was a special hospital, for radiology, and you couldn't get in without a pass. I gave some money to the woman at the door, and she said, “Go ahead." Then I had to ask someone else, beg. Finally I’m sitting in the office of the head radiologist, Angelina Vasilyevna Guskova. But I didn’t know that yet, what her name was, I didn't remember anything. I just knew I had to see him. Right away she asked: “Do you have kids?”
    What should I tell her? I can see already I need to hide that I'm pregnant. They won't let me see him! It's good I'm thin, you can't really tell.
    “Yes," I say.
    “How many?"
    I'm thinking, “I need to tell her two. If it's just one, she won’t let me in."
    “A boy and a girl."
    “So you don't need to have anymore. All right, listen: his central nervous system is completely compromised, his skull is completely compromised."
    Okay, I'm thinking, so he’ll be a little fidgety.
    “And listen: if you start crying, I'll kick you out right away. No hugging or kissing. Don’t even get near him. You have half an hour."
    But I knew already that I wasn't leaving. If I leave, then it'll be with him , I swore to myself! I come in, they're sitting on the bed, playing cards and laughing.
    “Vasya!" they call out.
    He turns around:
    “Oh, now it's over! Even here she found me!"
    He looks so funny, he's got pajamas on for a size 48, and he’s a size 52. The sleeves are too short, the pants are too short. But his face isn't swollen anymore. They were given some sort of fluid.
    I say, “Where’d you run off to?"
    He wants to hug me, the doctor won’t let him. “Sit, sit," she says. “No hugging in here."
    We turned it into a joke somehow. And then everyone comes over, from the other rooms too, everyone from Pripyat. There were twenty-eight of them on the plane. What’s going on? How are things in town? I tell them they've begun evacuating everyone, the whole town is being cleared out for three or five days. None of the guys says anything, and then one of the women, there were two women, she was on duty at the factory the day of the accident, she starts crying.
    “Oh God! My kids are there. What's happening with them?"
    I wanted to be with him alone, if only for a minute. The guys felt it, and each of them thought of some excuse, and they all went out into the hall. Then I hugged and kissed him. He moved away.
    “Don’t sit near me. Get a chair."
    “That’s just silly," I said, waving it away. “Did you see the explosion? Did you see what happened? You were the first ones there."
    “It was probably sabotage. Someone set it up. All the guys think so.”
    That’s what people were saying then. That's what they thought.
    The next day, they were lying by themselves, each in his own room. They were banned from going in the hallway, from talking to each other. They knocked on the walls with their knuckles. Dash-dot, dash-dot. The doctors explained that everyone's body reacts differently to radiation, one person can handle what another can't. They even measured the radiation of the walls where they had them. To the right, left, and the floor beneath. They moved out all the sick people from the floor below and the floor above. There was no one left in the place.
    For three days I lived with my friends in Moscow. They kept saying: Take the pot, take the plate, take whatever you need. I made turkey soup for six. For six of our boys. Firemen. From the same shift. They were all on duty that night: Bashuk, Kibenok, Titenok, Pravik, Tischura. I went to the store and bought them toothpaste and toothbrushes and soap. They didn’t have any of that at the hospital. I bought them little towels. Looking back, I'm surprised by my friends: they were afraid, of course, how could they not be, there were rumors already, but still they kept saying: Take whatever you need, take it! How is he? How are they all? Will they live? Live. [She is silent .] I met a lot of good people then, I don't