As a student, he worked as a sanitary in the forensic morge. I remembered one case.



I was replaced by a man aged 55-60 years. The medical expert, returning from the call, gloss, say, wait, now "with a mattress" will be brought. He has been working for 15 years, and has never seen anything like that. In general, they brought a man inflated by water (pulled out of the bath), on his hands traces of cuts, a rope on his neck and traces of suffocation. A lot of scare from this spectacle, of course.



In the morning, although his change has already ended, the medical expert specifically stayed on the screening to find out all the details of the death of this man. However, these mysteries do not occur every day. Other medical experts were also interested in this case and began to make bets.



The results of the examination came to such conclusions. The man so desperately tried to reduce his account with life that:

I took a hot bath and cut off the veins, but something went wrong (the cuts were not very deep), the quick death did not come.

The deep desire to leave this world quickly gave rise to another idea – to hang yourself. As a result, the man tried to hang himself on a towel dryer that was placed just above the bathroom.



But life is a very harsh thing. The man could not hang - the rope attached to the towel dryer was broken. But the part that was wrapped on the neck fits very well into the skin. At the last moment, any hanger (if not under drugs) tries to reflexively remove the rope, as evidenced by deep scratches on the neck and the epithelium under the nails. Our hero was no exception.



The final conclusion of the medical expert - drowned. The man, completely weakened from blood loss, partially removed the rope from his neck, but could not get out of the bathroom.



The oldest medical expert wins. He immediately gave up, looking at the body, - a dive.

In 2005-2007 this story ended. He worked at an enterprise where the dress code was observed - a suit, eternal necklace and other joys of life. is uncomfortable. But it looks like a cultural one. I didn’t have my own transport, so I always took a bus from work to home. I come to the local small bus station, I wait for the bus, and I get this careful bomžik (forever there). Things shrink, thinning – shrink in one word, but! Sweat is clean! He approaches me and, a little frightened, asks:

Do you have a lot of rubles for bread? Shop in two steps. I think, "I will give the little things - not a pity, and I will look at the same time - bread, but... If not bread, then I will send in the future." He gave him small things, he goes to the store, goes out with a bucket. In fact, he was honest.

He approached me once again to bite, all the same, to shoot on the bread. And then again it is appropriate, I already by habit give him the prepared little stuff, and so complainingly asks:

Could I be bigger?

I did not understand.

I take a picture for work.

What work?

I’m here... I’ll get it back later.

He gave, not hoping for a return, but... For some reason he believed in the good. It’s been a week and a half since I didn’t see this boy at the car station and I watched him again. In the new specialty, cleanly shaved, the man patled his haircut, he did not even recognize him, if not by his voice, he would not know exactly. He gave me the money that I gave him for photography. It turns out that he went to work for a local plant, whether a diversity worker, or a courtyard worker, or someone else, got a room in the shelter - lived. He told me how he got into the bomb. The mother drank everything, and the apartment, including, and ended, he, the teenager, was thrown out on the street - and bombarded.

So believe in people. If a man wants, he will rise from the bottom.

Worked at Subway, from the top came the instruction with background music to put jazz, polls were conducted among the population and jazz turned out to be the most stressful music among the majority.

Where there is a majority, there are those who disagree with it. My aunt came and set out on the threshold for a scandal with me:

What kind of music do you play?! to

and Jazz

Fu, what a ugliness! Couldn’t you put it normal?! to

Explain the company’s policy

This is black music! She is terrible!!! to

Understanding that the aunt is starting to boil and she likes it, she was just waiting for it, suddenly including the victim:

Oh yes, you are right! I suffer myself! It’s just terrible, I’m forced to listen to it all day long!

What a nightmare! Your boss should tell you everything! The Heroes!

That’s how my aunt lost the scandal and went to sunset, sending rays of anger into space, and I continued to enjoy a rushy jazz and wipe the stand in the best traditions of nuar films.

P.S I don’t know why she came in, don’t ask.

One day, walking along the shore, I saw the Gypsies digging the ground... yes, the real Gypsies, with real scratches. It turned out that they had some sort of a Gypsy feeling overwhelmed the rails there, that they did hz there, they did not definitely strengthen the shore, and for the support of the pillar it was too close, but not the essence. One rail (or one rail) was already excavated, a few more were torn out of the ground, and the Gypsies were crawling further, there was still a couple of pieces. The next evening he went specifically looking, dug out a dozen 3-4 meters of sections, and forged further. It is worth noting that the place is not quite wild, but sparsely populated, and the rails needed to be raised along a fairly steep shore, from 5 to 20 meters to the top, it was interesting how these thin guys would pull them out. But I was not destined to see this, exactly at 4 in the morning, without a declaration of war, I and a neighbor, with the help of a thread, wires and some mother, pulled out all this hernia and twice in a trailer was taken to a familiar grandfather nearby (before we had to go further). I forgive you Gypsies.

I remembered a funny incident that happened in the early morning of my youth. There was a sweet couple in our group: we met at the preparatory classes, took out the apartment and started living in it.

By the end of the school year, I decided to leave. Who has changed, I don’t know. But the veneration of the guy I still remember: "I was on the pair, she took it all out. Even the plates! I left only the old furniture. All the boys sympathized with him and shook.

In fact, it turned out to be this: Mishana was from a neighboring region. He came with his jackets. And when they started to rent the apartment for two, Lenka stopped everything from her house: plates, pots, even bedding. Fortunately, her parents lived nearby – in a village that is 15 kilometers away from the city. In short, the business girl, in the "divorce" took all her back.

But how theatrically, dramatically and even tragically it was presented... “Even the spoonful... the fox, the spoonful took!”

Whatever you say, the most honest honey is lip.
Regardless of the result of the tasting, the inscription "Honey lip" always corresponds to reality.

No other diseases.

History of Picaboo. The clowns are not funny. is terrible. And I advise people to read - it's about us)

I am a district therapist. Yes, the primary link, which now, like everyone else, was thrown into the struggle against an incomprehensible infection.
Yes...
Apparently, people stopped magically dying from the rest.
Thanks for the coronavirus.
"Thank you" for coming home to a severe patient with cirrhosis of the liver, who at this inappropriate moment gave decompensation, and reassuring relatives that everything will be fine, knowing that it will not be well, and also knowing that even in my direction the hospital will not take her, because quarantine, "treat at the local", and I can no longer help when the swelling of the whole body grows, when a person periodically falls into psychomotor excitement from intoxication... "Thank you, coronavirus and the Ministry of Health, that she was taken to resuscitation, only when bleeding opened. Not saved...
"Thank you" when a patient with uncoverable pressure of 200/110 for a week can not be taken to the hospital.
"Thank you" for my patients, who after operations on the heart can not get to the cardiologist, because all the narrow specialists sent on vacation, and we DISTANCE (by phone) try with them (patients) to pick up a dose of warfarin (blood thinning), (because in the clinic they are also not allowed, and the blood for density can not be donated, and at home only in extreme necessity, which I every week for them and seek)...
“Thank you...”
I no longer have the strength to listen to the provisions of quarantine, I no longer have the strength to listen to the desperate requests of patients, which I can only fulfill by breaking into thirty-three pieces.
Thank you to everyone involved in this circus.
"Thank you" that I can't go as usual to call my patients over the age of 70 (most of whom), because I ride on the fork constantly and because it's inappropriate to drag this infection to the elderly, if not the case of life and death.
“Thank you”
I am tired...

The feeling is that between the first wave of the coronavirus and the second, there will be only 1 day - the day of voting on amendments to the Constitution.