I was 7-8, my father got an apartment from the factory, settled, but the city phone was not connected, and there were no mobile phones at all. My dad was at work, my mom was at home with my little brother, and I was walking in the yard. I hear my mother shouting from the balcony: “Aloha, go home.” I run, she turned her leg, barely walking, says, “Call an ambulance.” I run to the phone machine in the neighboring courtyard, call 03, telling the situation, in response approximately - "ahaha, stop talking, don't call here anymore." I click again, tell you again what happened, and it’s not a joke – ignore again. I have tears from the fact that the real trouble happened, my mom is bad, and the ambulance does not believe me, hopelessness is just a gesture. I am standing at the machine and crying. Some uncle approached, asked why I roar, I told him what it was, he called the ambulance with me: "Why are you there for people like that, the child here is crying, and you refuse to help!" - gave me a phone, I told the operator again and promised to send the car. 15 minutes later, the car arrived, the mother was inspected, helped.



25 years have passed, and I still remember that situation in detail. Since then I have been constantly afraid that if something like this happens again, then no one will believe me again.