doctors [Theme] Page 29

He drove down the slippery streets, ignoring red lights. With every second more and more pressed on the gas. He flew through the narrow alleys with such speed that seemed to be hurtling on a huge track. He did not see the road, did not see the frightened pedestrians and angry cops, the only face that so clearly imprinted in his memory... She was standing at the bus stop, turning over as flashes of memories, yellowed photographs. Cute appearance, clear oval face, and slightly depleted look. The rain mercilessly poured his gray tears. He saw how she shivered in the cold, all wet, miserable and so lonely and no one is not needed. What was she doing in this weather on the street, and than cried, and remained for him an Enigma. Was so interesting, what is hidden behind this look, and what color her eyes are. Yes, some eyes are so innocent looking? Distracted, trying to see. His feet tangled in the pedals. Gas... She took a step... the brakes squeal... Blow, and something soft under the wheels. Didn't want to believe it, but it was her... Then everything was like a dream. Blood. Scattered pictures, black handbag and she... She lay with closed eyes, as if now stand to apologize and go... hands are Cold eating felt for a pulse... Alive. Thank God, alive! He drove down the slippery streets, ignoring red lights, and she was silently dying on the back seat. "Hold on, honey, you'll survive I promise to marry" - he prayed approaching the sacred hospital. Then hours of waiting, resuscitation. Someone asked who she is to him. "Husband, if you survive". And so he got used to the idea that they had seemed really close. He was waiting already in the waiting room of the fourth hour, during this time, I remembered the name of God, long forgotten the Lord's prayer, also a couple of prayers, and even a few invented himself. But it seemed God fell asleep, and did not want to Wake up to something here to help. So it took more time. A hand softly touched on the shoulder, is a surgeon. "How? What? Alive?" And he turned around and walked off. There was no need of words, they are now superfluous. He fell to his knees and wept. He knew she had to live was to give birth to a son, to bring home the joy, the comfort... it was supposed to be his wife, his dream! She couldn't die, couldn't just break into his life for five minutes, to leave and never return. She had no right to die today, and tomorrow to kill him... Because their son was supposed to be her eyes. Eyes.... "Excuse me, surgeon turned, - what color were her eyes?" "Blue... Blue is the color of the sky"

He's a real doctor. Golf plays and all that...

How's your hooker?
- Nice asked. Funny story, she wanted to be the boss of the hospital, but realized that having people in this way is immoral.

- And unless we become doctors not to treat patients?
- No, we became doctors to treat illness.

- See cane they think of me as a patient.
- So put on your lab coat, like all doctors.
- I don't want them to think I was a doctor.

It happens. Sometimes doctors send people out on the street to die, despite the fact that other doctors were warned that they send people out on the street to die. You could not know.

Romanenko, have you heard about such disease - hypoalbuminemia?
- How?
- Hypoalbuminemia.
- How?!
Hypoalle... what, are you kidding me?

I don't understand how our doctors are learning the dead, and treated the living.

Miss blue doctor flora or fauna
My son has down syndrome.
So wait, he was carrying like a treasure our
Has back fate, me no one no one asked -
Will I be happy or cry
The father's pride and endless shame.
Boiling youth juicy, closer to June
I gave him a handkerchief to wipe the frothy drool.
And does not force me not to dream about her grandson,
Look for a reason for themselves to impose strong hands.
Nonsense - tears on the pile of hearts
Who will remain with him, except his father.
Night attack with blood, muddy picture
Thank the Lord passionately for a son,
More life like, dirt flies after him,
the hand holding it, go slowly.

- Stipa! Victor Pavlovich, you again patients complain.
- Yes, I even know someone - a grandmother, which the neighbor told me not to drink any pills, and to RUB into the affected area for washing dishes, because it kills twice as many germs! Well I could not resist, advised to treat constipation a cleaning brush for cleaning bottles...

Not that I was a very good friend. I'm more of a caring doctor who himself, on his own initiative, you straighten the vertebrae once a week.

We're surgeons, we cut out malignancies. So let's start with yourself!

The doctor is a philosopher: after all, there is a big difference between wisdom and medicine.

Medicus curat, natura sanat.
The doctor treats, nature heals.