The challenge - "52 years, well, heart", I work independently and I get it as a person who has worked for the tenth year. Moreover, the history of this heart is already known to the entire substation - prolonged menopause, love of benzodiazepines and rare monotopic extrasystoles, sometimes flashing on the ECG and presented as something life-threatening.
I go up to the floor. An uncomfortable apartment, a shattering woman stretching out under a blanket, a lot of unpleasant smells, and the expression of the face of the person who caused it, as if under her nose she was smashed with a scraper.
What kind of doctor are you?
I am not a doctor, I am not lying. I am a Felder.
The Feldscher? It was said that I was ashamed of this title for a moment. What right do you have to inspect me?
I shake my shoulders:
Diploma of state model and many years of work. and what?
Do you know I have a serious cardiovascular disease? Does the word “extraterrestrials” say anything to you? What help can you give me? You didn’t even measure my pressure.
In fact, I just entered...
What kind of shame is this? Do you have anything out there that is mocking me? I need a cardiologist.
- And she has not been there for a year, - I am pleased with the details of a sick man who has been tired of such greed. They dismantled.
So why didn’t they send me a doctor?
Where to get them? Do you think the crowd is breaking up?
Then there was a long conversation about nothing, which ended with nothing. Cardiogram, tonometry, phenazepam in a soft place and long unclear threats to our service for such disorganization.
Surprisingly honest word. Where do you get the doctors? Those pache-profile specialists, ready, swallowing the tongue, rush to sneeze at five in the morning with all your caprices and about each sneeze to arrange a consilium? They run away from medicine, and with the “Speed” – in particular. Take the example of the Wild West - there is considered a vicious practice of delivering the doctor to the patient. The doctor is the first after God, his head should be filled only with new methods of diagnosis and therapy, the latest developments and schemes of use of the latest drugs, a deep analysis of each individual disease in each individual patient. But in no way should this man, to whose intellect and intellectual work are so high demands, run on the fifth floor, drag his armor, forge the bombs out of the cane and consult hysterics with eternally sick "hearts" and "heads". High mental labor implies the absence of low physical labor. It is said that in ancient China, a doctor did a single palpation of the pulse for several hours, dive into the nuances of its filling, tension, rhythm, frequency... Where do you get a specialist who will provide you with the same, sinking at the same time, like a Negro on a plantation? And if the doctor is much stronger than your health, he is concerned about the thoughts, where to resettle, to give, so as not to stretch his legs.
You have not saved a generation of good doctors, people. It has been given to you by time as a compensation for the mistakes of the socialist past, one of the few precious things you could have given. You have wiped out this gift with complaints, claims, insults, discontent, silence, indifference, hatred for those who, out of their last strength, for a miserable salary, having enormous duties and having no rights, tried to fight for your health. And now this generation, raised in the spirit of altruism, humanism and mercilessness, has safely disappeared. Only fragments remained. The new doctors will no longer be like that – they grow up in another era, where in order of things is that man is a wolf to man, that without money there is no work, that if not you – then you. And, like the children of their epoch, they will not be able to behave like the generation that goes into the darkness that you are pursuing.
You were silent when doctors lived on poor wages.
You condemned the choir when the doctor who saved a thousand did not save one.
You when a doctor, who had reached a nervous breakdown, insulted you for an unreasonable call.
You have not paid attention to the fact that the people who save your lives are living without social benefits, without privileges, without a worthy respect for their work.
You betrayed the doctors.
Where are the doctors going? Far from you, believe the word. Dying in poverty, from heart attacks, strokes and oncology, forgotten by all saved and healed, they go to a better world where there will be no one like you.