Last week I went to my house, parked next to the entrance where my apartment is. Near the entrance were mummies with year-olds, tugosers and children of a little older. I greeted and went home.
In the morning, on Saturday, at 9:15, a bell to the door, and this is not a modest bell, but a straight such a loud ringtone. I woke up, I went to open the door, I looked in the eyes - there is a neighbor. I opened the door and she said to me, “Hello, Doctor!” I woke up and said, Do you know that I am a doctor? She replies: "Yesterday, when you came in, I saw under your front glass a pass to the GKB territory and your surname on it. Here I brought my son to you to look - he has something with his throat (for a moment, I am not a pediatrician, let alone not an ENT, I am a rehabilitologist). From such greed, of course, I stumbled, but the lady and son let in and even examined the throat and called a friend pediatrician. The diagnosis was made - inflammation of the tonsils, and urgent hospitalization was offered to clarify the diagnosis. And, if necessary, remove these very tonsils. Saying goodbye, she left, I thought - what naughty people are, and went to bed further to see her deserved dreams.
In the evening of the same day we planned a small sabotage with friends in honor of the second anniversary of our wedding. The guests came, we drank a couple of drinks, all like people. At 8 p.m. the door is ringing. I open the door without a back-thinking, she stands, and says, "The baby is bad, temperature 39, what to do?". I answer, "Madame, yell, I said in the morning - urgently to the hospital, why buried the child?". "Yes," said the aunt, "we decided to try the rinse, we are afraid of the operation." The next question just killed me. “Are you drunk?” My aunt tells me. “I have a child who is sick and you are drinking!” I thought for a second if I had not confused my horms in the west of the capital with my modest department, I thought and realized that it was not. My aunt just rolled the stick. I kindly said goodbye and went to my friends.
I told them, laughed and forgot.
On Sunday morning, the door knocks. Guess who came? is correct.
The first question is, “Are you trembling?“”
The second: “What do I do with my son?“”
Learned her apartment number, sent, called an ambulance, the boy was taken.
After that, I became the enemy of all moms within a radius of 3 km from home and a drinking doctor.