Saturday classic: The horrors of domestic medicine. The horrors of medicine

One of the tragic delusions modern medicine- symptomatic treatment.
As a rule, the patient goes to the doctor with a certain set of complaints, so the doctor determines the patient's set of symptoms.
In the last article "Pharmacology" we found out that the symptoms of the disease itself are densely intertwined with the symptoms of manifestation side effects pharmacological agents. But even if the patient has stopped taking the drugs, the pharmaceutical symptoms are still there. This happens, for example, after taking steroid groups of drugs that reward the patient with persistent hypertension, which continues even after the drug is discontinued, since in this case the endocrine system fails, which is the most important regulator of the processes occurring in the biological organism. And modern medicine is not able to fix this failure, whether it be a pathological failure or a pharmacological one, here, like nowhere else, everything is firmly deaf. So there is a layering of the symptoms of the disease itself and the pharmacological symptoms. But in both cases, modern medicine from an academician to an ordinary office doctor in a district clinic offers (alas and ah) only symptomatic treatment. Is it worth it to be surprised that there are no cured patients.
Let's look at examples.
The patient is found oncological disease, an operation is scheduled, the tumor is removed. Here I stop because it is very important point. The tumor is not the cause of the disease, the tumor is a symptom of the disease, that is, a signal that the body gives about an impending disaster. With symptoms, the body seems to say: take action, I feel bad. This is why so many cancer patients die even after symptomatic treatment. The patient dies not from a tumor, but from an unresolved cause that caused this tumor, the tumor was removed, the symptom was removed, but the process continues, and therefore a catastrophe occurs. The same is true in implantology. By transplanting an organ, you do not eliminate the cause, and the same processes will occur in the transplanted organ as in your own, because the reason for the failure of your organ has not been eliminated, so what do you expect from the transplanted organ. By what miracle can you cure malfunctions in the body with an organ transplant or removal of a tumor? How is it with dialysis, for example, treat endocrine-infectious pathology plus microbiocenosis disorders? Are you flushing microbes out of your blood? And this is what certified candidates of sciences and professors from medicine say. So you will not save a single nephro-ill.
Have you ever seen a cured hypertension? I haven't met. As soon as they stop taking the medicine, the pressure again torments. Because pressure above the normal range is a symptom, and until the doctor finds out why a person’s pressure is above normal, and starts to “shoot at the top ten”, and not past the target, there will be no pressure. The person will treat the primary source of pathology, and he will have a chance to full life, since he will stop taking a separate pill for each symptom and destroy his body (one pill for each symptom - how is it for you? in the physical and material sense). The body signals a set of symptoms about a problem, and drowning out these signals is a real crime.
So, the symptoms are the signals of our body about a particular failure. Most often, the source of failure is infectious-endocrine disorders, which subsequently bring the biochemical system of the body to pathological disorder certain organs. The conductive system is destroyed (it is controlled by endocrine system), destroying certain codes (not genes) - sensors that recognize signals for action. The biochemical structure does not receive a signal, or receives an incorrect signal, and the first (asymptomatic) stage begins pathological process. At this stage, a person may experience anxiety, forebodings, a mayata (does not find a place for himself, everything falls out of hand, "probably tired", ate worse, slightly thirsty, a little irritated, worse concentration, "at least get some sleep", "people are annoying" , tears in the eyes, etc.). At this stage, if you go through a study in modern medical laboratories, no deviations will be found, and a person with modern thinking most often does not react to the above signals. But, as I said, even in the asymptomatic stage, the body is already trying to signal the problems that have begun. Today's development of the human mind is at a low level of perception of its own signaling system. Today, the human mind perceives only the signaling system of a deep-seated process, that is, when receiving obviously explicit, and not indirect, signals. One type of signaling system is dreams. Today we actively ignore them, we do not know how to read these signals. But before the disease, most people see muddy water, fish, other people's blood, nightmares, violent accidents. These are presymptomatic signals that the body tries to warn. But the modern mind cannot respond to them. Therefore, when the process goes so far that the signaling system cannot go unnoticed, modern medicine starts a war with these same signals. This is the clearest delusion of medicine. Sane doctors today agree that they are forced to adopt symptomatic treatment tactics, and that this is a big minus in medicine. But the majority, shaking the air with their diplomas, do not even understand this. Medicine must abandon the pernicious rule - the tactics of symptomatic treatment. It is necessary to identify the source and hit the top ten, then the signals - the symptoms will be eliminated by themselves, under these conditions they will not fail vital important organs. It is on this - to identify the primary source of the disease that all the efforts of medicine should be directed.
AT folk medicine the same rules. Someone drinks peroxide. Helped. Miracle. It didn't help the other. It helped because hydrogen peroxide is a strong aniseptic, and most likely the one who helped the cause of the disease is an infection. And to whom it didn’t help, that one has a different reason (possibly endocrine). You ask why antibiotics do not help, but peroxide helped. Microbes are adapted to antibiotics, or the gastrointestinal tract does not absorb AB, and peroxide is an unidentified object for microbes, that's all miracles.
What helps is what gets into the top ten, but what is past (in symptoms), whether traditional medicine, not traditional medicine - the result is the same. Besides pharmacological effects official medicine more aggressive towards immune system, biochemical and other than the so-called folk remedies. Folk remedies and from the psycho-emotional side, they have a better effect on the patient than synthetic drugs, coupled with in a healthy way life and observance of the daily regimen, a simpler, more benevolent, cheaper setting for the patient arises. He is less tormented by the feeling of embarrassment in front of his relatives. But again, I repeat, no matter what you do, if you do not hit the bull's-eye, all the work and expenses are in vain (I clarify - age has nothing to do with it).
And a little more about the suppression of symptoms - signals. When a doctor allegedly relieves a patient of symptoms (without identifying the cause), sooner or later a tragedy will happen. If you do not count the signals correctly, a fire is inevitable. Imagine that you are sitting at the control panel. You see a fire alarm going on. You don't see the fire yet, you trust the equipment and take action. Which? Curtain the signal light (so as not to blink here, not to annoy)? Leave the room (I don’t want to see or hear anything)? Unscrew the light bulb and throw it away (tired of already flickering and flickering, getting on your nerves)? No, of course, you will inform all the services and the fire will be extinguished, or you will inevitably burn. Now take this situation to biological organism. So why do we suppress symptoms - signals? Do we want to burn?
So, treatment in progress, symptoms do not go away after discontinuation of medications. Didn't make the top ten. We need to keep looking for the fire.
2008

Some tips from Victoria

If your "ten" is not found and you are suffering from pressure, then at one time take two tablespoons of dried wild apples from an ecologically clean area (wild apples, that is, not subjected to varietal infusions, these are not the apple trees that have been standing in abandoned orchards for many years, namely, without injections, wild; wild birds the size of a perpelin egg, yellow-green, may be with a red barrel, taste tart-sour-sweet; must be collected after August 15) and two tablespoons of dried chokeberry, pour boiling water into a 200 gram thermos, add 1-2 buds of cloves seasoning, let everything infuse for one hour in a thermos. Drink as tea unlimited.

Eat gooseberries unlimitedly.

Cook blackcurrant and cranberry compote (stronger). In winter, you can use frozen berries. (I don't add sugar).

For nausea and vomiting, take glycine tablets (relieves negative impact on the brain, soothes, keep it always with you, a little worried - swallow it).

In nephrology the same, plus herbal collection"Brusniver". "Brusniver" shoots kidney pain in the lower back, cholecystitis and pancreatitis pain. Who can not get it, make this collection yourself in ecologically clean areas: lingonberry leaf - 50%, wild rose fruit - 20%, St. John's wort - 20%, grass string - 10%. "Brusniver" is 20 filter bags, the manufacturer is Krasnogorsk. You can not be afraid for potassium if you take ketosteril. If you don't, just donate more potassium.

In addition, add Wobenzym tablets.

Plus capsules AD-norm.

The kidneys will like all this very much, but not completely. You will help them completely if you do not refuse antiviral drugs (Anaferon, Derinat, Intervir, Arbidol, etc.) constantly, since modern medicine is not able to completely rid the patient of this scourge. Antivirals You can alternate, but in no case can not be canceled even for a day. Do not use toxic agents such as acyclovir, antigrippin and others.

Don't forget to boost your immunity.

If, in addition, your hair falls out, and doctors rub it in for you, that this is from: 1) the kidneys; 2) endocrine disorder; 3) by inheritance; 4) from drugs; 5) from systemic diseases; 6) age and so on and so forth, then do two things: take an analysis for dysbacteriosis, identify the cause of the microbiocenosis violation, go through a couple of courses of treatment and your hair will even forget what shedding is, it simply will not be. Find out if you have a lack of vitamin A (usually the skin on the fingers peels off). If you have hematuria, then it will disappear without a trace and forever if you improve your microbiocenosis. Dr. Antonov M. M., the hospital named after. Botkin, st. Mirgorodskaya, St. Petersburg (this doctor has an appointment by appointment).

Be kinder.

That's all for today. See you. Take care of yourself.

What makes a woman have 5-6 children or, conversely, limit herself to just one child is a complex, complex problem. There is no one reason. Of course, here is the material well-being of the family (in the broad sense), and traditions, and confidence in the future, and simply the upbringing that the woman received. But, as it seems to me, the purely physiological side of the matter is very important.

Of course, even men know that during childbirth, a woman most often experiences excruciating pain. And it would seem that those people who help a woman give birth should somehow help her and cope with this pain, surround her with attention and kindness. Indeed, at such a moment, a woman is more defenseless than ever.

One Soviet Pinocchio wrote to me in the comments: “The main thing that scoops miss is the atmosphere of trust and friendship between people…”. Why, listen to the scoops, so in the USSR there were such wonderful relations between people that they were just some kind of paradise. It would seem that such a wonderful relationship should be even more manifest in difficult moments of a person’s life, for example, during childbirth. Well, if the Soviet person and in ordinary life showered another person with simply inhuman benevolence and friendliness, one can imagine how the Soviet medical staff protected women in childbirth, how they took care of them, how they encouraged and helped to overcome pain and anguish.

“- they were not allowed to have any of their own clothes, linen too. A terrible hospital gown with ties and disgusting slippers - that's what we, unwashed cattle, were supposed to be. - the patient is to blame by default - for taking precious time from doctors and nurses that they could spend with more useful. Another patient robs the state and takes a place in the hospital - the woman who gives birth is even more to blame - firstly, there is nothing to fuck and fly into here, secondly, there is nothing to yell and interfere with the staff, thirdly, everyone has become spoiled, but you have to endure - if a woman who gives birth is not married - this is a pipets and a finish. Such aunts will talk to her like a drunken homeless woman - you can’t take food with you, you can’t take gear - you don’t understand why you get drunk, and then they will get sick ”

vladimirgin : “When my mother in the 84th gave birth to a brother in another hospital (without any cronyism), then it was, according to her stories, horror, horror. At least somehow they started to move only when she started yelling that she herself was also a doctor and would be able to find who exactly to roll a full-fledged complaint against them to the city health department. If I hadn’t screamed, then there was a rather big chance that my brother would be born dead (the birth was with complications) ”

terkat : “Hygiene products after childbirth - hospital reusable diaper napkins sandwiched between the legs: for some reason it was forbidden to wear underpants: (((. There were no pads then. This is remembered with horror ... I have negative memories of the maternity hospital hygiene products"

shisho4ka : “We also have complete “non-cowardice”, plus washed out, in some places tattered hospital gown and gown. From home, no linen, and other things are undesirable. Slippers, in my opinion, were also hospital. Visits by relatives are, of course, prohibited. All the newly-made dads wandered under the windows and called their wives with loud screams. one pay phone per floor (free of charge!) and long queues for it...”

lilith_samael : “Doctors treated with hatred in antenatal clinic. In the maternity hospital, it’s just cold and indifferent - “there are a lot of you like that.”

Madlesha : “Winter 1984. Leningrad, Pediatric Institute. The attitude is terrible, everyone talks down, everyone has no time. It was very cold, -25 outside. There was no hot water, and the boiler was not allowed to be handed over to relatives. My mother handed it to me in a pack of sugar, they secretly used the whole ward. There were 12 of us in the room. There is no bathroom, everything is in the toilet word of honor. It's scary to remember…

greenbat : “89th year, Yaroslavl. Due to painful contractions, the woman in labor vomited in the ward. The nurse poked a rag in her face and shouted: "Clean up after yourself!" ... 90th, Petersburg. Drunk nurse overturns gurney with newborns in front of a shocked audience

ur_prayer : “I am the second born child in our family. I must have an older brother. his mother gave birth to him, the midwife / nurse / doctor (I don’t remember who exactly), who should be on duty (my mother gave birth at night) disappeared somewhere, as a result, the baby got entangled in the umbilical cord and died ... "

hvylya : “There was a bottle of potassium permanganate in the toilet, and it was happiness. And there were no pads, instead they were given out washed diapers, which we poked, because the day was supposed to be less than necessary. And begging the nurse for an extra one was a holiday. Sorry for the details. Well, and the corresponding attitude. Although, I was still in a good maternity hospital, by pull. I was even allowed to have a book with me.”

omega14z : “It was the Soviet maternity hospitals that I didn’t find as a user, but I met an “old school” doctor in a consultation. And a lot of the old guard continued to work later, so there are impressions. Firstly, the most vicious did not get tired of repeating "but earlier you would be here .. wow!" This sadistic nostalgia was surprising ... "

perepertoz : “From the memoirs of the mother-in-law: at night the doctors dispersed and in order not to bathe, the women in labor who came were given sleeping pills. Like until the morning generic activity"waited". So one fell asleep, and without regaining consciousness, she began to give birth ... "

janelight :
"one. My mother gave birth in a crowded maternity hospital (Otto, who is still highly regarded in St. Petersburg). She was in the hallway all the time. All 36 hours. The attitude is appropriate.
2. A friend - she gave birth in 92, consider the maternity hospital to be Soviet, only the difference is that it is not overcrowded. The first birth is often more difficult, besides, as it turned out, the girl she had was more than 4 kilos, as a result, after some hours of torment, she was told that she had to be cesarean. She already don't care, if only it was over. She is sent to the caesarean on foot (!!!) up the stairs (!!!) from the 1st to the 5th floor. I note - they gave birth a little, not that the staff is overloaded. Further on 5m they strip naked and tie (!!!) on the table by the arms and legs. Further, the team, including students, walks around - everyone, of course, looks between the legs. No, when you give birth, in principle, I don’t care who looks where - but imagine yourself in her place ... When the surgeon actually came, an old experienced aunt, examined and said, “Well, I take you normal delivery accept, if you want - but you don’t want, caesarim, ”a friend yelled“ I want! ”She gave birth safely - but staphylococcus aureus was brought to her and the child in the maternity hospital. Consequences - mastitis.
3. A story that I read in the Soviet magazine "Rabotnitsa" and made an indelible impression on the teenage psyche. The woman was expecting a desired child. Childbirth promised to be easy - and actually they were, she almost did not feel pain until the waters broke, and then too. Therefore, when the ambulance arrived home, the opening was already 10 cm (well, for the men I will explain - the uterus has actually opened up so much that the baby is about to come out). Instead of already taking delivery on the spot, the doctor takes her to the hospital - okay, in the end, in the hospital, rather. So she is sent again on foot (!!!) to go on her own to the maternity hospital. On the stairs. The result - the child just fell out. And he became disabled. And there should have been an easy birth and healthy baby...»

bormental_r : “Our first child died due to the fact that the doctors did not come. The wife screamed, and they came up and said: "Well, this is nothing, this is the first birth, this is bullshit! Be patient, not shout!" And when they did, it was already too late. He was born dead intrauterine asphyxia. And when the exhausted, weeping wife finally fell asleep, exhausted, the nurse woke her up - the child had to be given a name for documents. Dead. To do this, she was awakened and demanded to name the dead child. When I remember this now, everything turns upside down in me. 1975, Sverdlovsk…”

arthorse : “Toilet and shower (89) in the same room, tanks overflowing with bloody diapers, which even lie on the floor near the tanks, such miasma rises from the steam that comes from the shower !!! And the shower is separated from the toilets by oilcloth. This is Moscow 32 maternity hospital "

i_kassia : "When my mother gave birth to my younger sister, my father and I went under the maternity hospital. Inside, the stump is clear, they were not allowed. There was always a crowd of men under the maternity hospital. To communicate with the mothers who gave birth, they climbed trees and thus found themselves flush with the windows of the 2nd and 3rd floors. And women in labor looked out the windows, since it was summer. Father also climbed. But he could not see his daughter: children, even healthy ones, were taken away immediately after childbirth and brought only for the time of feeding. Gifts to women in labor were not allowed, so the peasants tied the parcels to bandages, lowered by women in labor from the windows. Because the time was hungry: Odessa, 1965. When the mother returned home, the baby was covered in diaper rash and with some kind of rash all over her body. For two months, this rash, on the recommendation of doctors, was smeared with "blue" - some kind of blue antiseptic.

sharikshum : “My mother gave birth to my sister in 1975, in Moscow. I will never forget her story. To begin with, they stripped naked and shaved with a rusty razor, there were no sheets on the beds, oilcloth, they didn’t give food for a day, and she begged the nanny to bring her sugar from the abortion clinic, she was afraid that she wouldn’t have enough strength, she gave birth for 12 hours, the doctor came up twice, doctors and special nannies are selected there, like overseers in a concentration camp, just sadists. “I don’t remember anything more terrible than a dog in the Middle Ages” - her feeling.

alena_esn : "Mom gave birth to my younger brother in 1972. He still remembers that time as torture by the Gestapo. I got to the maternity hospital in advance, with problems. Pressure. The medical staff, including doctors, yelled all the time. The leitmotif for all days: "Yes, when you give birth, you will go blind. You have such pressure that your eyes will burst!" Mental bullying and rudeness. Unskilled medical assistance(rather the lack of it). Mom is still sure that if it were not for her grandmother, that is, her mother, she would definitely have died there. Together with the child ... ... In 1995, in Moscow, in an ordinary Soviet hospital, the wife of her younger brother gave birth. Everything is like 10, and 20, and 30 years ago. A day on the "couch", on a bare ice oilcloth without anything (not even a sheet to hide, December). Rudeness. There is nothing more to eat. And almost nothing is given from home. Instead of shorts - a nasty brown rag between the legs. Nobody is allowed. And the whole maternity hospital is in bacilli and cockroaches ... "

And in the finale, the most significant, as it seems to me, memory kialu :

“I don’t want to tell my story in detail. Much has already been described here - fried diapers, instead of panty liners, the ban on panties, the shock was when they put it in storage - they shaved everything with a common razor and how it was done (I was 18, I cried for a long time). For preservation, they were forbidden to walk, go out into the street, they were intimidated. I got saved by mistake ... Memories of pregnancy and especially childbirth are just a nightmare. I spent 10 hours on the delivery table, after giving birth. She underwent two anesthesias. And for almost 10 years, my son's birthday was a day of nightmare memories for me. Fear and horror mixed with shame. It's gone now. But my son is already 16, I didn’t decide on the second and I won’t decide...»

Here in this “I didn’t decide on the second and I won’t decide” it seems to me that’s the whole point. It seems that in Soviet maternity hospitals, an atmosphere of attitude towards women in childbirth was specially cultivated so that a woman, after suffering humiliation and suffering, would no longer want to give birth a second time.

alena_esn : “I gave birth to my children in Paris. Everything is as in one of the cases described above. And the husband is always there, and his own things, and friends with flowers the next day. And no streptococci ... "

The human body has been the object of close attention of doctors since ancient times. A large number of various diseases gave rise to no less number of ways to treat them. Some operations amaze with their complexity, while others - with the madness of their authors. Today I will talk about five of the most terrible operations in the history of medicine.

1. Surgical treatment of insanity

Dr. Henry Cotton was sure that the madness was caused by internal infectious foci. In 1907, Dr. Cotton took over the Trenton psychiatric hospital. Together with his assistants, he managed to carry out more than one thousand operations, which consisted in removing various parts body, including internal organs. Patients had their teeth removed, and if this did not help, doctors resorted to removing parts of the intestine. In the first year alone, thousands of patients suffered from unsuccessful operations. This method of curing madness is more striking in the madness of the creator himself.

2. Dousing with boiling water

In 1840, it was believed that abdominal pneumonia was effectively treated by sterilization in boiling water. Dr. Walter John conducted his experiments by stripping patients to the naked and dousing them with boiling water. The doctor claimed that he had cured thousands of patients with this method.

3. Open brain electrotherapy

In 1847, a young specialist Bartholough performed a terrible operation. He was treating a patient named Mary who had an open brain ulcer, causing her brain to be seen through cranium. The doctor connected the electrodes directly to the brain and applied voltage to them. The process was repeated 4 times until Mary fell into a coma. After unsuccessful operation under public pressure, Dr. Bartholough moved to Philadelphia and completed his degree.

4. Face transplant

In the winter of 2007, 31-year-old Pascal Kohler came to the clinic with rare disease- neurofibromatosis. His face was disfigured by a giant tumor that prevented him from even eating. Professor Laurent Lantieri conducted the most complicated operation He transplanted a face from a deceased donor. The operation lasted over 16 hours. The result turned out to be quite good. There is an opinion that the famous "elephant man" Joe Merrick at the beginning of the 20th century suffered from this disease.

5. Brain removal

6-year-old Jessie Hull suffered from encephalitis, which had already destroyed half of her brain. Doctor of surgery Ben Carson decided on the last measures that could save the patient's life and removed half of the affected brain. In such cases, the remaining half takes over the functions of the other half. Jessie was left paralyzed for left side, but her personal and cognitive functions were preserved.

It was the top five most terrible operations that were practiced in medicine.

We live in the age of modern medicine, which has reached high altitudes, and today's doctors know by what means and methods to treat not all, but almost all diseases.

But this was not always the case, and doctors of past centuries had no idea how to save a person from this or that disease and acted based only on their own conjectures. The methods of treatment used by doctors of the past will certainly shock modern man, and he will once again be glad that he lives in the 21st century.

Astrology says that every part of the body is influenced by the sun, moon and planets, and that each sign of the zodiac affects different parts of the body. Aries, for example, refers to the head, face, brain, and eyes; while Scorpio is in charge of reproductive system, reproductive organs, intestines and genitourinary system.

bloodletting

The physicians of the Middle Ages believed in what they called the word "humors". This word was called some of the fluids present in the body: blood, yellow bile, black bile and phlegm. The concept of humor was developed by Greek and Roman physicians who believed that too much or too little of any of the four humors had a profound effect on human health. For some reason, during the Middle Ages, excess blood in the body was seen as the cause of many diseases. Therefore, doctors often removed a large number of blood from a person's veins in the hope that it will cure him.

The two main ways to do this were bloodletting and leeches. Leeches were placed on diseased parts of the body, from where they sucked blood. Bloodletting looked like this: the doctor opened the patient's vein with a knife called a "lancet" and allowed the blood to flow out of the body. Bloodletting was so common that some people bled themselves regularly because they thought it would keep them healthy.

S U B B O T N I A C L A S S I C A:

The horrors of domestic medicine

Saturday Classic: The Horrors of Domestic Medicine

Bulgakov about his medical debut

Bulgakov about his medical debut

The story "Steel Throat", like other stories from the "Notes of a Young Doctor" cycle, is basically autobiographical. Only with the amendment that in reality the operation did not go as well as described here: the young doctor was afraid of the possibility of infection, he got vaccinated, for which he began to experience painful pain. allergic reaction. And, it seems, it was from this case that the writer's passion for morphine began.

Michael Bulgakov

S T A L N E THROAT

So, I was left alone. Around me - November darkness with swirling snow, the house was filled up, howling in the pipes. All twenty-four years of my life I have lived in a huge city and thought that a blizzard howls only in novels. It turned out she was actually howling. The evenings here are extraordinarily long, the lamp under the blue shade was reflected in the black window, and I dreamed, looking at the spot glowing on my left arm.

I dreamed of a county town - it was forty miles away from me. I really wanted to run away from my point there.

There was electricity, four doctors, you could consult with them, in any case, not so scary. But there was no way to escape, and at times I myself understood that this was cowardice. After all, that's why I studied at the Faculty of Medicine ...

“... Well, what if they bring a woman and she has an abnormal delivery? or, suppose, a patient, and he has a strangulated hernia? What will i do? Please advise. Forty-eight days ago, I graduated with honors, but the distinction itself, and the hernia itself. Once I saw a professor doing an operation strangulated hernia. He did, and I was sitting in the amphitheater. But only". Cold sweat repeatedly flowed along me spinal column at the thought of a hernia. Every evening I sat in the same position, pouring tea: under my left arm I had all the manuals on operative obstetrics, on top of a small Doderlein. And ten on the right various volumes on operative surgery, with drawings. I groaned, smoked, drank black iced tea...

And so I fell asleep: I remember that night very well - on November 29, I woke up from a roar at the door. About five minutes later I put on my trousers and kept my pleading eyes on the divine books of operative surgery. I heard the creaking of skids in the yard: my ears became extraordinarily sensitive. It turned out, perhaps, even more terrible than a hernia, than the transverse position of the baby: they brought a girl to me at the Nikolsky point-hospital at eleven o'clock in the morning. The nurse said softly:

A weak girl is dying... Please, doctor, go to the hospital...

I remember I crossed the yard, walked to the kerosene lantern at the entrance of the hospital, as if spellbound watched how it blinked. The waiting room was already lit up, and the entire staff of my assistants was waiting for me already dressed and in dressing gowns. They were: paramedic Demyan Lukich, still young, but very capable person, and two experienced midwives - Anna Nikolaevna and Pelageya Ivanovna. I was just a twenty-four-year-old doctor, released two months ago and appointed to head the Nikolskaya hospital.

The paramedic solemnly opened the door, and the mother appeared. She seemed to fly in, sliding in felt boots, and the snow had not yet melted on her scarf. She had a bundle in her hands, and it hissed and whistled measuredly. The mother's face was contorted, she was silently crying. When she threw off her sheepskin coat and shawl and unraveled the bundle, I saw a girl of about three years old. I looked at her and forgot for a while operative surgery, loneliness, my worthless university load, forgot everything decidedly because of the beauty of the girl. What would you compare it to? Such children are painted only on candy boxes - the hair naturally curls into large rings of almost ripe rye. The eyes are blue, huge, the cheeks are doll-like. Angels are painted like this. But only a strange haze nestled at the bottom of her eyes, and I realized that it was fear - she had nothing to breathe, “she will die in an hour,” I thought with complete confidence, and my heart sank painfully ...

The pits in the girl's throat retracted with each breath, the veins swelled, and her face cast from pinkish to a light purple color. I immediately understood and appreciated this coloring. I immediately realized what was the matter, and for the first time I made the diagnosis absolutely correctly, and most importantly, at the same time as the midwives - they were experienced: “The girl has diphtheria croup, her throat is already clogged with films and will soon close tightly ...”

How many days is the girl sick? I asked amid the alert silence of my staff.
- The fifth day, the fifth, - said the mother and with dry eyes looked deeply at me.
- Diphtheria croup, - I said to the paramedic through my teeth, and said to my mother: - What were you thinking about? What were you thinking?
At that moment, a whiny voice came from behind me:
- Fifth, father, fifth!
I turned around and saw a noiseless, chubby old woman in a headscarf. “It would be nice if there were no such money in the world at all,” I thought in a dreary anticipation of danger and said:
- You, grandmother, shut up, interfere. - Mother repeated: - What were you thinking? Five days? BUT?
The mother suddenly handed the girl to the grandmother with an automatic movement and knelt down in front of me.
"Give her a drop," she said, and hit her forehead on the floor, "I'll strangle myself if she dies."
stand this very minute, - I answered, - otherwise I won’t even talk to you.
The mother quickly got up, rustling her wide skirt, took the girl from the grandmother and began to rock. The grandmother began to pray to the joint, and the girl continued to breathe with a snake whistle. Paramedic said:
- That's what they all do. People. His mustache curled to one side.
"So, does that mean she's going to die?" - looking at me, as it seemed to me, with black fury, my mother asked.
"He'll die," I said softly and firmly.
Grandmother immediately wrapped up the hem and began to wipe her eyes with it. My mother called out to me in a bad voice:
- Give it to her, help! Give me a drop! - I clearly saw what was waiting for me, and I was firm.
- What kind of drops will I give her? Advise. The girl is choking, her throat is already clogged. You spent five days starving a girl fifteen miles away from me. Now what are you going to do?
“You know better, father,” the grandmother whined on my left shoulder in an artificial voice, and I immediately hated her.
- Shut up! - told her. And, turning to the paramedic, he ordered to take the girl. The mother gave the midwife the girl, who began to struggle and apparently wanted to scream, but her voice could not come out. The mother wanted to protect her, but we pushed her away, and I managed to look into the girl’s throat by the light of the “lightning” lamp. I had never before seen diphtheria, except in mild and quickly forgotten cases. There was something bubbling in the throat, white, torn. The girl suddenly exhaled and spat in my face, but for some reason I was not afraid for my eyes, preoccupied with my own thought.
- That's what, - I said, surprised at my own calmness, - this is the case. Late. The girl is dying. And nothing will help her, except for one thing - surgery. And he himself was horrified why he said it, but he could not help saying. "What if they agree?" - a thought flashed through my mind.

Bulgakov was born in the family of a professor in Kyiv, was one of seven children. Chose the profession of a doctor family tradition: his mother's brothers, both doctors, were extremely satisfied with life. Married. Was sent to countryside run the hospital. Addicted to morphine. He began to work as a venereologist. Quit with morphine. He worked as a doctor for the Red Cross. He fell ill with typhus, after which he recovered in Vladikavkaz, and there he first tried his hand at literature. He worked as a feuilletonist. He joined the Writers' Union and got married again. Then again. By this time, the writer had completely ceased to be published. Started to go blind. He dictated to his last wife the final version of The Master and Margarita and died.

A minute later I ran across the yard, where a snowstorm was flying and shuffling like a demon, ran to my place and, counting the minutes, grabbed the book, leafed through it, found a drawing depicting a tracheotomy. Everything on it was clear and simple: the throat was open, the knife was plunged into the windpipe. I began to read the text, but did not understand anything, the words somehow jumped in my eyes. I have never seen a tracheotomy done. "Uh, it's too late now," I thought, looked longingly at Blue colour, on a bright drawing, I felt that a difficult, terrible thing had fallen on me, and returned, not noticing the blizzard, to the hospital.

In the waiting room, a shadow with round skirts clung to me, and my voice groaned:

The midwife tightly hugged the grandmother and pushed her out of the room.
- Ready! the paramedic suddenly said.

We entered the small operating room, and, as if through a veil, I saw shiny instruments, a dazzling lamp, oilcloth ... In last time I went to the mother, from whose hands the girl was barely pulled out. I only heard hoarse voice who said: “There is no husband. He is in the city. He will come, find out what I have done - he will kill me!
“He will kill you,” repeated the grandmother, looking at me in horror.
Don't let them into the operating room! I ordered.

We were alone in the operating room. The staff, me and Lidka - a girl. She, naked, sat on the table and silently cried. They threw her on the table, pressed her, washed her throat, smeared it with iodine, and I took a knife and at the same time I thought, “What am I doing?” It was very quiet in the operating room. I took a knife and drew a vertical line across the plump white throat. Not a single drop of blood came out. I ran the knife a second time over the white stripe that had come out between the skin that had been exposed. Again, no blood. Slowly, trying to remember some drawings in the atlases, I began to separate thin tissues with the help of a blunt probe. And then at the bottom of the wound from somewhere gushed dark blood and instantly flooded the entire wound and flowed down the neck. The paramedic began to wipe her with tampons, but she did not let up. Remembering everything that I saw at the university, I began to clamp the edges of the wound with tweezers, but nothing came out. I felt cold and my forehead got wet. I deeply regretted why I went to the medical faculty, why I ended up in this wilderness. In spiteful desperation, I thrust the tweezers at random, somewhere near the wound, snapped it, and the blood immediately stopped flowing. We sucked the wound with clods of gauze, it appeared before me clean and absolutely incomprehensible. There was no windpipe anywhere. My wound did not resemble any drawing. Another two or three minutes passed, during which I completely mechanically and stupidly picked at the wound with either a knife or a probe, looking for the windpipe. And by the end of the second minute, I despaired of finding him. “The end,” I thought, “why did I do this? After all, I could not have suggested the operation, and Lidka would have died calmly in my ward, and now she will die with a torn throat, and I will never, by anything, prove that she would have died anyway, that I could not harm her ... " The midwife silently wiped my forehead. “Put down the knife, say: I don’t know what to do next,” I thought, and I imagined my mother’s eyes. I again raised the knife and senselessly, deeply and sharply slashed Lidka. The tissues parted, and suddenly the windpipe was in front of me.
- Hooks! - I said hoarsely.

The paramedic fell with a thud, hit himself, but we did not look at him. I plunged the knife into his throat, then put the silver pipe into it. She deftly slipped, but Lidka remained motionless. The air did not enter her throat as it should have. I took a deep breath and stopped: there was nothing else for me to do. I wanted to ask someone for forgiveness, to repent of my frivolity, that I entered the medical faculty. There was silence. I saw how Lidka turned blue. I was about to quit everything and cry, when suddenly Lidka shuddered wildly, threw out the rotten clots like a fountain through the pipe, and the air whistled into her throat, then the girl began to breathe and began to roar. The paramedic at that moment half stood up, pale and sweaty, looked stupidly and in horror at my throat and began to help me sew it up.

Through a dream and a veil of sweat covering my eyes, I saw the happy faces of the midwives, and one of them said to me:
- Well, you did a brilliant operation, doctor.

I thought she was laughing at me, and looked at her gloomily, from under my brows. Then the doors opened, and a breath of freshness blew in. Lidka was carried out in a sheet, and at once her mother appeared at the door. Her eyes were like those of a wild animal. When I heard the sound of her voice, sweat ran down my back, and only then did I realize what would have happened if Lidka had died on the table. But in a very calm voice, I answered her:
- Be calm. Alive. It will hopefully be alive. Only until we take out the phone, not a word will be said, so do not be afraid.

And then the grandmother grew out of the ground and crossed herself on the doorknob, on me, on the ceiling. But I didn't get mad at her. He turned around and ordered Lidka to inject camphor and take turns on duty beside her. Then he went to his yard. I remember blue light I had a fire in my office, Doderlein was lying, books were lying around. I went up to the sofa dressed, lay down on it, and immediately stopped seeing anything; fell asleep and did not even dream.

Ah, Linda! Well?
- Yes, everything is fine.

Lidka's throat was untangled. She was shy and afraid, but still I managed to raise my chin and look. There was a vertical brown scar on the pink neck and two thin transverse ones from the seams.
- It's all right, - I said, - you don't have to come anymore.
- Thank you, doctor, thank you, - said the mother, and Lidka ordered: - Say thank you to your uncle!

But Lidka didn't want to tell me anything. I never saw her again in my life. I began to forget her. And my acceptance has increased. The day came when I received one hundred and ten people. We started at nine in the morning and finished at eight in the evening. I staggered and took off my robe. The senior midwife-paramedic told me:
- Thank you for this reception tracheotomy. Do you know what they say in the villages? As if you had inserted steel instead of Lidka's throat and sewed it up to the sick Lidka. Specially go to this village to look at it. Thank you doctor, congratulations.
- So he lives with steel? I inquired.
- So he lives. Well, you, doctor, well done. And coolly how you do it, lovely!
“Hmmm... you know, I never worry,” I said, for some unknown reason, but I felt that I couldn’t even be ashamed of being tired, I just turned my eyes away. He said goodbye and left. It was snowing heavily, covering everything. The lantern burned, and my house was lonely, calm and important. And when I walked, I wanted one thing - to sleep.