The district pediatrician.
A medical error.

Prior to the medical institute, I worked as a repair carpenter in a hot shop. The state entrusted me to repair conveyors, freight lifts, tower cranes and other equipment, and properly paid from 180 to 220 rubles a month for hands. Plus, there were trips to the prevention center, a month of free living in a double room, eating from the pulp and going to physiotherapy. And sometimes 30% of the travel "to the south" in the trade union gives.
Then for six years the state taught me mind and medicine, gave me an increased scholarship and a bed in a five-bedroom for 2.5 rubles a month.
And then I was sent to the site in the children's clinic, entrusted the life of 1200 (that is exactly one and a half times the average rate) of children and began to pay 120 rubles, on the hands of 106. I have forgotten about any hideous journeys until the end of my work in medicine... and in general for the rest of my life)
Nothing to do, the family needs to be fed, I take calls from two locations, in the evening emergency, plus duty in the hospital, as a rule, on weekends and holidays, there was double payment)
The approximate schedule is this: on Monday morning for reception, then two areas of calls (in the summer it is 7-10, in the winter to 23-32 addresses a day, but I still have a section in the center of the city, but half of the houses - the private sector; it was already in the 90s there everything was demolished and the towers rebuilt), at 18 hours in the hospital, for night service, in the morning on Tuesday at 9 immediately after duty - again directly to the clinic, reception, two areas of calls, from 19 to 23 hours - emergency. Home at midnight.
I slept, Wednesday morning reception-call-night service-already Thursday reception-call-night at home.
Friday: reception-call-night service in the hospital, sometimes for two days, until Sunday evening.
How the senior nurse closed the tables to me - I don't know, I only complained that I had 26 hours of work a day, but I got 180-220 rubles. No categories or services I had at the time.

But the practice invaded a lot, for a year, the valley became: "Well, what's there with you, mommy, what happened? We will deal with it now!”)

Summer on Saturday night. The heat, the city as extinct - all on the villages and beaches. I am in an emergency, work a little, I sit, I bring the papers in order.
The challenge, very close, in the neighboring house, only the road to cross. In fact, they could come by themselves, a girl of 12 years, the temperature is low.
The supervisor complains: the parents for the fourth day in a row as everyone got, cause a fever, and the local or emergency will arrive - the temperature is normal, no cough, no sneezing, nothing, a person five different doctors looked at her in the end, healthy, nothing.
I am so good at the challenge. As specifically, the 9th floor and the elevator do not work.
(Then this happened rarely, because of the breakdowns; but by the end of the 80s it was already in practice - the robbers make a call to the apartment on the upper floors, turn off the lights in the entrance and the elevators, and wait for the doctor, and often the doctor.)
I’m always in my hands!)), the mother blamedly looks in the eyes: "Doctor, there was, there was a fever, and now tempered - normal, but was, was..."
I am already boiling; the maiden is clearly healthy, the color of the face and skin is normal, no cough, no redness in the throat, no whistles in the lungs, the stomach is calm...
On a full reflection, after listening to quite clean lungs, I begin to percussion my back, kick my finger, while simultaneously educating and reading notes to my mom, raising my voice.
And here - the op-on, the sound of the percussion "not ours."
I knock again. On the left, on the right; on the upper, on the lower; and here again, and here again; again on the left, and again on the right.
The picture in my head folds, I write my mom a direction to the hospital with suspicion of lower left-hand pneumonia.
I apologize, I say not to offend my tone, and go to X-rays quickly.

In a couple of weeks I walk through the corridor of the clinic, behind someone’s voice: “Doctor, doctor, wait, doctor!”
I feel like a mom is pursuing me.
“Doctor, doctor, you don’t remember me, I’m not from your department, you gave us an emergency left-hand pneumonia. So, Doctor, you are wrong!
We did not have left-hand pneumonia, but bilateral! “Thank you Doctor!”