This ice-blooded story happened many years ago when I was still a student working as an ambulance in one of the districts of Samara. As a rule, every ambulance in any area has an undercover but well-known list of unloved addresses. Our station was no exception either. Our heroes, the most capricious and boring patients, we knew in the face. Some Praskovia Philipovna constantly terrorized our emergency, with a periodicity of up to three to four times a day. Going out for her "bad with the heart", it was ultimately necessary to convince the sick that plus-minus five millimeters of mercury in the indications of her blood pressure - this is the physiological norm, that today's nine-hour absence of the stool - it is not a sign of the faeces, that the cardiogram again and again not only heart attack - even arrhythmias does not say. And, of course, to teach by hand the geography and nature of all kinds of stirrings, bullshit, compressions and murmurs. It is clear that it is not worth expecting something else from the hypochondria, but when the flu epidemic, the brigades do not get out of the cars, and the call to her address only for today is the fourth...
At the fourth call, Vasilich, a doctor from God, an Afghan veteran, did not resist. The soul asks for Homs. After leaving the officer at the station and joking with the dispatcher, why did she make big eyes and quickly burst, he said to the people in a smoker:
We’ll argue on the cognac that Philippovna won’t get anyone this week!
I hit my hands and the doctor went. He returned quickly. Five minutes after his arrival, the telephone ringed. After removing the telephone, the controller listened for a minute, floating in a smile, kicked, and then, pressing the lever of the reboot, called somewhere. Cognac Vasilich disputed, and how! No one called from this address for a month and a half. Vasilich and the controller were silent as partisans, so at the end of the challenge received from Praskovia Filipovna almost dropped a draw, who to go - before that it was curious to know the details from the first mouth.
It turned out that, last time opening the door to the doctor, the patient stumbled: the squalope stood on the four and held a suitcase in his teeth. After holding out the theatrical pause, he put his suitcase on the floor and squinted on it four times. After that, the man in his coat turned around and shook down the stairs on four. When the confusion passed, Philipovna called the ambulance again and complained that the doctor, the fool, was lying on her. The manager turned out to be a nice and responsive girl and promised to send normal doctors.
When another brigade arrived, "not in the example of this, all as a selection, just grenaders!“The doctor asked so:
Did you say he was on the four?
Yes yes yes!
And even, forgive me, laughed like a dog?
A true cross!
I have to say that in all the one and a half months of being in the psychiatric hospital, the heart of Praskovia Filipovna did not get sick once.