The Partial Pediatrist. Awaken the Pioneer Camp.

The continuation. The beginning, about the kitchen of the pioneer camp - in yesterday's issue.
https://www.anekdot.ru/id/1201722/

After bringing order in the kitchen of the pioneer camp, well, order from my point of view, but not with the cook, I became bored and I used to actively participate in the educational and entertainment process.
The leaders were slightly tense.
But since the children and the leaders themselves were now fed much better, the pedagogical collective began to tolerate me with restraint.

I proposed the scenario of "Neptune Day"; the intelligent role of the same Neptune; the public selection of captains for the role of seawives; the classic "topless" variant for seawives of the director of the camp for some reason immediately rejected with indignation... and the radioist said that "at last the doctor is a man" and offered "the key to the radio rubbish at any time" (ha, yeah, I have the whole medical unit and there is also an insulator); the circle "Young sanitary"; "let us bring the children on a march, and with a nighttime at the coast... which is immediately on Noah, I am of a clean heart..."; the young fisherman competed for the heaviest fish (a 200-gram someone tried to catch), the largest (12 centimeters), the largest c
I was tolerated only because I honestly implemented all my ideas myself, well, how it will work out.

In the afternoon, a pioneer came and shouted, "You are called there on the shore, there uncle drowned."
The heat, the afternoon sleep, threw his coat, in his pocket a pharmacy, a phonendoscope on his neck and a swinging halo jumped to the shore.
Under a half-meter-long clay slope, two men crawl, some bright cloth rolls, and the director of the camp rings from the top of the shore.
I look with the eyes of the drowning man, I see nothing. He jumped from the breach (goodbye, the white coat clean) - no one was injured.
He looked around, then, finally, realized - a bright cloth is a float on a man, he himself is the colour of clay, from a couple of meters you will see the figure.
In short, the brigade in the car of the household service unit, which belonged to the camp, returned from the area. They went to their camp, drank a little (this is a plus 30 in the shade) and took a swim (the river is almost mountainous with cold water). The man had something like an asthma attack right in the water, he didn’t even whisper, stopped breathing and lay down.
The scooters caught him, pulled him out of the water, and can not lift him up to the shore on clay.
I don’t remember what he had there with the pulse and other things.
I found at least some vein on the rear side of the wrist, hit immediately, I had a syringe, and dropped what was in the pharmacy bag - prednisolone with dimedrol and some antispasmodic.
The lungs were almost clean - the spasm of the bronches not only prevented him from breathing, but also prevented the water from rushing while he was cool at the bottom.
In short, a man was suffocating in me, coughing.
Three of them somehow pulled him off the shore, put him in the shade of the van, I went back to the medical station, and this brigade soon left.

Universal respect and even some reluctance of others corrupt quickly.

After breakfast, swimming in the river.
The hour - the children, the hour - the middle, the hour - the senior units.
If at the beginning of the shift I came to the shore and, standing on my knees in the river all three hours watched the children swimming vigorously and forced to watch with me the bodyguard who wanted to watch for the chiefs, then now it looked like this: the full doctor walked to the beach, selectively choosing a place (you can think that from yesterday the river changed the course or washed the beach), deeply calculated the movement of the shadow from the only rope, pulled into the sand a rod with a white rope and a red cross on it from a tape of someone's band, type "there will be a medical point", allowing the chased head - "children can be launched"; and lay on a sandstone in a bowl from the medical flag, strictly punishing the surrounding "
Fizruk exhibited to me the comfortable sound level of his cassette magnetophone "Spring" and every 20-25 minutes changed the side of the single cassette with Rosenbaum, which I heard then for the first time.
Until now, I know, “At the Pavilion of Beer-Water was a Soviet post. He came from the people. As they say, “your boyfriend”; “Hunks” and all those early works of Rosenbaum that fit on the cassette, and the blasphemy, listen twenty-five days in a row daily three or four times the same, and even during the sweet dream – intentionally into the undercourt went.

At the end of the shift, the director gave me an UAZ-"bushank" to take home, usually the doctor was going to the city in a bus with everyone, but when I arrived at the entrance, a surprise awaited me - the driver got out of the car and pulled into the apartment two healthy cardboard boxes, in which there was a bowl, condensate, ham, wheat and sugar, little that a bowl with ham was then deficient, and there were so many products that I fed the family almost not before the New Year.

The payment for the beach-camp barrel surpassed me in the first duty - I remembered Nothing, neither dosages, nor treatment schemes, nor compositions of droplets, the brains as if the saliva had flooded; I had to penetrate through this a couple or three duty, until the skills were restored.

The next spring, I joyfully gathered again in the same camp, which was answered by the clinic, that "the place is already occupied, they have found another doctor."
Well, I was upset, of course, but somewhere, having learned about the time and place of the first shift of "my" camp, I came to see the people.
And really hailed, when the director of the camp restrainedly proclaimed that "it is very unfortunate that you did not want to work with us this year and badly addressed the team, we treated you honestly well."

Here it turned out that the trade committee of the combination, it turns out, wrote letters of thanks to my clinic, sent letters, asked me for the next summer for all three shifts...

I finally found out what was going on (history 1179076 for 21.01.21) and I went to write an application for dismissal.
This was the end of my “campus pediatrician” career and the beginning of my “rehabilitator” career.

About this later, I will not leave the trip now.