Let my colleagues at the medical workshop forgive me, but this is a simple finding of the fact: having obtained a diploma, we are all, without exception, only larvae of doctors.
And only after going through long and sometimes painful metamorphoses, through the stages of development from the larvae to the butterfly, we become professionals in our business.
Well, or if comparisons with insects seem humiliating to colleagues - another comparison, eagles with diplomas, weak, stupid, not able to fly, we are trained for years to in the future evaporate into the sky of our insanely responsible profession skilled eagles and we already teach the next generation of eagles the subtleties of flight in the storm and wind.
The mature eagles carefully and strictly teach the eagles to first just move their wings, then let them stand on the wing and make a small flight, and then another, more complicated, and there, with the years, and the last flight, where they, having taught the young eagle to fly, to successfully hunt and land safely, give good for independent flights.
It is very difficult to be an Orly: endless hours of duty, heavy theoretical and practical exams, years of exhausting training, semi-military discipline, tragedies and triumphs - all this is necessary and can be carried out.
What is more difficult is constant communication with eagles, so superior to their eagles, that you start to doubt your abilities: can I fly like that?
The need for absolute submission, the irony and sarcasm of the instructors, their jokes, sometimes quite cruel, the atmosphere of obedience itself, at each new stage a light grandfatherhood and the repeated longing of the new recruiter in the new barracks...
This is the origin of the mythology of eagles: the legends about the smart eagle, which turned out to be smarter and more handsome than the mad eagles.
They are many, they are passed from generation to generation, very instructive, sometimes - funny, but always inspiring optimism and raising the fighting spirit of recruits of medicine.
To your judgment - one of such stories, which happened so long ago that I do not guarantee the complete truth, unusual for me - I am not the hero of this story, just a storyteller.
Grandmother, a pleasant clean old lady in a cloth, almost a lumpy grandmother from the Red Hat, has once again come up with severe and sudden allergic reactions, which from time to time become more severe and more dangerous.
So, first it was a rash, then a swelling of the face, and then the nose with the throat began to lay, asthma joined, her last arrival on the "Emergency" was generally on the verge of anaphylactic shock, barely saved in resuscitation.
I saw her there small, moved the grandmother to the ordinary department, afraid to leave home - the next episode she will not survive, unanimously decided everything...
And it happened: consiliums, lights of all unthinkable heights and titles, examinations of students, interns, residents, ordinators - nobody could make the correct diagnosis.
Two weeks later, the grandmother was seriously tired of it, she was tired of all this medical beetle, began to ask home...
You can’t, grandmother, go home and you’ll die.
The diagnosis is not...
It is clear that an allergy, it is clear that it is severe - and what causes it is unclear...
This happened in those distant times when dinosaurs like me were young: we didn’t have allergen tests.
Grandma, by the way, is absolutely healthy, with the exception of a strong allergic reaction to penicillin, in her youth.
And here comes our hero, a student of fifth grade.
The fifth year is not even an eagle, it is an embryo.
They are allowed a little: to watch the sick and not talk under the feet of adult fighters, all.
They are in the tail, the lowest of the lowest in the medical hierarchy.
Grandmother did not love him at first: tired of all this circus, having seen a bunch of well-deserved docents and professors and even one academic, she was not in the mood to answer the same questions a thousand times.
And he asked a lot of questions, bored to horror, he asked to describe all the events before the attacks.
And I found out a detail that escaped the attention of the lights: all of them happened at the same time, a half-day, after which the grandmother fell into the reception room.
A food allergy...
Why only at home?
Why is this not happening in the hospital?
Asked about the diet, nothing unusual.
No obvious food allergies.
And then the talented detective surpassed everyone in boredom: together with his grandmother he began to make a diary of food, what and when she ate, day after day, week after week.
And no matter how much the grandmother pressed her lips, he slowly and methodically made a list of the foods she consumed.
There was tea all the time.
And then I drank the tea and it started!
I sat down to drink tea and my throat began to swell!”
Allergic to tea?? to
He laughed at him, unheard of it.
Two - tea in the hospital does not cause such reactions.
The young man, of course, found out that it was most likely a food allergy — and now walk to play a sandbox.
He went nowhere, the conversations with his grandmother continued, she got used to him and even fell in love with him for his sincere desire to help.
And here, as a result of trust, the grandmother was engaged in this detective work, the first results appeared: the attacks began last fall, from nowhere.
She didn’t seem to have changed anything in her habits, but something happened, precisely in the autumn.
What do grandmothers do in autumn?
Salt with cookings and marinades, berries, mushrooms, cucumbers - all, as it is believed, from year to year.
“Yes, grandmother, what was unusual last autumn?”
"That kind of thing did not happen, the strawberry straw drowned, digested and rolled on a new one."
Sorry, what about the strawberries?
“How what? Yes, the mold has grown, I removed it and digested it, a good snack, I still hold it, I consume it slowly, there is a little left.
The air smelled eureka, holding his breath, the young genius of medical investigation asks the last, decisive question:
“Are you like you drink tea?”
“Yes, my son, I’m used to that.”
Holding his breath, with a gentle and gentle voice only - only the exhausted doctor asks:
“Can I look at the barley?”
“Why not, I’ll ask my neighbor to bring me.”
Then everything became clear: the digested snack retained traces of mold.
Remember your grandmother’s allergy to penicillin?
It opened up, half a century later - and, like an old mine, broke, it is believed, strongly, repeated allergic reactions are always worse than the original.
This is the story.
What happened to the Eagle-Wonderkind?
I don’t know, but somewhere there’s a fucking clever doctor who, in his infancy, tried to wipe his noses, or, more precisely, the sticks of the glowing eagles of medicine.