I have a neighbor, grandmother Eva. Three years ago she suddenly didn’t come to her favorite beds and beds. “A stroke,” her daughter said sadly.
Two years ago, Grandma Eva returned to the country. She was not known. I lost weight twice, blackened from my face. Intelligence and speech are fully restored. My feet were more or less walking. And here the hands were swirling. The left still somewhat bended in the elbow and compressed into an uncertain fist, with the right was completely hopeless. My grandmother walked around and didn’t know where to go. She had three joys in life besides her grandson: gardening, craftsmanship and homework. And all three were deprived of a cursed stroke... The neighbors supported her as much as they could. Like a copier, the stories were told about a distant relative of a colleague's three-born brother, who had not just a stroke, but a stroke in the whole head. “And whatever you think, he’s fully recovered! Not immediately, yes, five years have passed, but the human body is such a thing, so you, Baba Ev, don’t lose hope!”

Last summer, grandmother Eve was still sitting on a wing or wandering around the garden. Despite the mountains of medicines and complex physiotherapy, in a year she could only learn to squeeze in the fist of her left hand a spoonful and with sin to half her mouth. “Don’t hope too much,” the doctors told the daughter.
This summer we did not go to the house. The child was transported to the sea after successful admission to university. Arrived in the garden only at the end of August, the apples are removed. The first thing I look at – in the neighboring plot, grandmother Eve has flooded a bourgeois in the yard and is cooking a snack. One hand interferes, the other holds the pot. She was fine, wearing a bright sporting suit, even colored, it seems. We all the family to her: congratulations on successful rehabilitation, ask...
And grandmother Eve says, “There was no rehabilitation. I was treated by an ambulance doctor. One New Year’s Eve.”

Here is such a surprising and terrible story happened (in medicine not strong, from the words of my grandmother I write). The new year, the family of grandmother Eva decided to meet at this same country. Just last summer, the house was insulated, the boiler was built, and we wanted to renovate. They came, dressed up the tree, began to cover the table, turned on the TV. The daughter and the son-in-law are cooking, the grandson walked on the floor with toys, here he fell asleep, the grandmother also buried in the chair. The grandson began to wake up, time to eat, and he doesn’t wake up. And then the daughter cries, “He doesn’t breathe!”
Then, Grandma Eve remembers everything like in the fog. She remembered standing at the door and praying that if her grandson died, she would die with him. As her daughter cried, and her son-in-law tried to do that artificial breathing, then an indirect heart massage, and they could not understand if the boy was breathing at least a little or not at all. The ambulance was going indefinitely. I finally got there and started doing something with the child.
Suddenly out of the fog came the harsh face of a young sheriff. "Listen carefully," she said strictly, "I will explain quickly, only you all hope. Do you see how the parents are? You are an adult, serious. Now they go with us to the hospital, and you take a paper, a pen, sit at the table and write in all the details how your grandson spent the day. How you slept, when you woke up, what and when you ate, what you played, if there were any signs of ill health, if you noticed something unusual. Everything you remember. There is no small thing about anamnese. At seven o’clock in the morning, take it to the guard, our crew will pass, take it, take it to the doctor. “You understood me?”
Grandmother Eve cried. How did she know that her hands didn’t work? Moreover, it is not an excuse. For the sake of her grandson’s life, she would write with her feet, teeth, nose, her own blood – whatever she wanted and where she wanted to.

She tried her teeth. I pressed the pen between my fingers, too. did not succeed. He put a large red pencil in his disobedient left fist. I tried to pull out the letters. At the fourth hour of complete despair without news (New Year's Eve, the cellular network is overloaded) the right hand began to shake from the elbow. Then his right hand was shaken. Grandma Eve placed a pile of paper on the magazine table, pressed the corner with a heavy book and began drawing Very Large Letters, pressing the pencil with one hand and pushing the other.

At six o’clock in the morning, the helicopter arrived again. She was worried about Grandma’s condition. It stands, it does not move, whether it is white, or gray, or blue. Little, heart attack, stroke will heat up from experiences. She did not know that the stroke had already occurred. This is how to take an elderly person all night.
And here’s what she saw: the grandmother, bowing to three deaths over the magazine table, holds a pencil like a golf crack, pulls out huge letters and cries in three streams. Because everything goes very slowly, and the hands hurt terribly, and the lower back, and the head, and the eyes. After an hour, refer the history to the guard, and she described the day of the grandson only from seven in the morning until noon.

The boy is alive and breathing. Found a polyp in the throat, removed, but it is still just beginning. It’s hard to wake up after the drug. Little that the tests will show in this polyp. To keep parents in the hospital for a long time.
Feldscher already understands everything about the stroke, and the grandmother tells her that while she tried to write, her right hand worked a little. Feldscher gives his grandmother an injection of pressure and gently says: your granddaughter is alive, but you will still have to be treated. I will take these papers from you now, and you rest, now no more to rush. When you rest, keep writing. This will be useful to the doctor.

This girl didn’t regret time, found her parents in the hospital, and told them: “Your mother, your stroke woman, gave me the entire record overnight, and her other hand came to life. You pay attention, tell the doctor who has her physiotherapy there, and let him write. May it all be well with the new year...

And now, eight full months have passed... The boy is alive and healthy, wearing a selfie all over the company. His father, fulfilled by the impressions, passed special courses of first aid. And grandmother Eve rewritten in the spring with printed letters "Ruslan and Ludmila" and several dozen poems, painted a lot of pictures with colored pencil and even mastered a little inscription for the first class.
The human body, of course, is a complex thing, but without extraterrestrial wonders. Hair laying and beauty bringing grandmother Eve still helps daughter. Heighten the heavy. But to play with your grandson in the cubes and the designer, to cook the snack, and most importantly, to independently dress up, wash and brush your teeth she can already. And her handwriting is not even worse yet than that of her grandson.
On that day, she poured on us a pomegranate compot from a large pot. She knocked with us the cups and threw the cup into herself, without spilling a drop. God give my grandmother Eve long years of life and good health. God give every child such a grandmother. And then we drank for Fellscher Svetlana. Compot, yes, because you can’t drink alcohol after a stroke. Svetlana not only saved her grandmother’s grandson that night, but also saved her grandmother’s grandson. So, dear God, give her, please, everything, everything, everything, and more.