<\/a><\/noindex><\/p>\nMikhailych was already standing on the asphalt, lighting a cigarette. His hands trembled slightly, but years of habit showed \u2013 he struck the match on the first try, despite the wind. The crowd moved a bit closer, forming a semblance of a semicircle, with Mikhailych and the K-700 at the center. Kolya wanted to drive off, but children had already climbed onto the wheels, and he had no choice but to turn off the engine.<\/p>\n
\u2018Come on, tell us, don\u2019t keep us in suspense!\u2019 The chairwoman placed her hand on Mikhailych\u2019s shoulder and gently shook him. \u2018Where\u2019s Zina? When will she come back?\u2019<\/p>\n
Mikhailych took a deep breath, took a couple more puffs, threw the long cigarette butt on the ground, and carefully crushed it with his foot. By his appearance, it was already clear whether Zina would come back.<\/p>\n
\u2018She won\u2019t come back,\u2019 Mikhailych said shortly and fell silent.<\/p>\n
The crowd became unusually quiet. Gazes, previously focused on Mikhayich, turned to the ground, the tractor, the old village store, a row of stalls, and the back of the person standing in front.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Wait a minute, Mikhayich\u2026 \u2014 the chairperson stepped back and looked intently at the old man. \u2013 Why don\u2019t you tell us how it all happened\u2026<\/p>\n
\u2014 Come on, Mikhayich, tell us, don\u2019t keep us in suspense! \u2013 shouted from the crowd. \u2013 What is she doing there, in the city? Is it about medicine, or what?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Yes, it\u2019s about medicine. \u2013 Mikhayich nodded and reached for another cigarette. \u2013 I\u2019ll tell you now.<\/p>\n
So, I arrived in the city. Where to look \u2014 who knows, but after thinking a bit \u2014 where else could a village doctor go if not to a hospital? Certainly not as a manager! (Mikhayich specifically used \"manager,\" not the more familiar \"\u043c\u044d\u043d\u044d\u0434\u0436\u044d\u0440\").<\/p>\n
Well, I thought, better check the clinics. I started with the district one \u2013 after all, Zina is from the district, right? So I came in, walked around, and couldn\u2019t find anything. They had a poster up there, like our doctors \u2013 but she wasn\u2019t there either. While I was standing there looking at it, a nurse approached \u2013 quite young and pretty, all decked out, you know, in full battle paint. She said, \"What are you looking at, old man? That poster has been up for about ten years, since the governor came; we only dust it off for New Year\u2019s.\"<\/p>\n
I asked, \"Is our doctor here, dear? Her name is Zina.\" She replied, \"No, she hasn\u2019t been here for a long time; I would know \u2014 I\u2019m on the schedule.\" And so I left, empty-handed.<\/p>\n
Then I trudged to the city hospital. I thought I\u2019d stand by the poster there, maybe someone would help me.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You won\u2019t get anything from the city folks. \u2013 Kolya's voice came from above. \u2013 If you\u2019re dying, they won\u2019t even come close, not even to pick your pockets.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You're right. \u2013 Mikhayich nodded. \u2013 They don\u2019t even have a poster there \u2014 there\u2019s a TV hanging, with the schedule, you see. And I, as luck would have it, left my glasses at home \u2014 I only wear them for reading the newspaper. So I stood there squinting until some old woman approached. I said, \"Help me, sister \u2013 I can\u2019t see a thing; read me the names of the doctors, will you?\" Well, she read \u2014 Zina wasn\u2019t there.<\/p>\n
I asked, \"Are all the doctors here?\" She said, \"No, just those who are seeing patients today. She advised me \u2014 go to the information window; they know everything there. Just prepare yourself; they say they\u2019ll be rude. Well, I replied, do I look like someone who\u2019s afraid of a bit of scolding? And off I went.<\/p>\n
I stood in line for half an hour \u2013 there were three of us, but the nurse at the window dashed off somewhere, the goat. When she returned, I asked, \"Do you have Dr. Zina here, dear?\" She started shouting about some personal data...<\/p>\n
\"Personal data?\" \u2013 the chairwoman suggested.<\/p>\n
\"Yes, exactly!\" \u2013 Mikhailych exclaimed happily. \u2013 \"She says she won't tell me, no matter what! I almost gave up, but I decided to lie \u2013 I said, dear, Zina is my daughter, but I lost her phone, came to check on her, and was told she works in the hospital; I've been running around for two days trying to find her. But this goat wouldn't help at all.\"<\/p>\n
I went outside, sat on a bench, and lit a cigarette. Just then, a little man in black uniform with an insignia that looked like a guard ran up to me. He leaned in close and said, \"You can't smoke here, old man; you\u2019ll get a fine.\" I couldn't take it anymore; I jumped up and yelled at him, \"What do you want, kid? Picking on an old man? Don't you have anything better to do? Go work for my people, bend your back for a country that won\u2019t remember your name, and then you can teach me!\"<\/p>\n
He turned red, started gasping \u2013 who knows, maybe from fear, or maybe he was about to hit me. He grabbed my jacket and pulled \u2013 I jumped up. He almost tore my sleeve off, the scoundrel. But he clutched on, wouldn\u2019t let go, shaking me by the sleeve. \"You\u2019re finished now, old man,\" he said. \"Get ready to pay the fine, or go dry bread \u2013 you\u2019ll be sweeping the streets. Well, I thought, Mikhailych is doomed now.<\/p>\n
\"You should\u2019ve just punched him in the face and be done with it!\" \u2013 someone in the crowd shouted. \u2013 \"If he\u2019s working as a guard at the hospital, he must be a total weakling!\"<\/p>\n
\"That\u2019s what I thought!\" \u2013 Mikhailych continued. \u2013 \"Why should I let that thick ass get away with it? Even though I have a concussion, didn\u2019t I drag such guys across the front in '43, tying them together like camels!\"<\/p>\n
So just as I was getting ready to hit him, someone shouted from behind \u2013 \"Stop!\" The guard turned around, released me \u2013 he got scared, I guess. I looked and saw that little goat from the information window running towards us. Apparently, her conscience was bothering her. And she went back to lie, just like I did earlier \u2013 \"Go on, Seryozha, keep patrolling; this is my grandpa from the village, he\u2019s a bit slow, don\u2019t be mad.\"<\/p>\n
But this interruption won't stop \u2013 no, he says, one law is for all, you come here and set your rules. I'll mark you, old man, count on it. And I don't care that he's your relative.<\/p>\n
Of course, I don't care \u2013 says the girl. You don\u2019t care about anyone, just like everyone else doesn\u2019t care about you. You're a meaningless piece of something (honestly, I didn\u2019t catch it). There\u2019s a hospital here, doctors, people going about, why are you even here, you lackey? You wander around from morning to night, not letting mothers bring strollers inside \u2013 it\u2019s not allowed, and they\u2019re getting soaked in the rain. You don\u2019t get wet, hiding inside to avoid getting your fat body wet.<\/p>\n
The girl really got going. The security guard is shaking all over, started approaching her, raising his hands \u2013 here, I guess, an old habit kicked in. I didn\u2019t have time to think, how I hit him in the ear, and caught him before his body hit the ground \u2013 well, like we used to do, silently. Sat him on a bench, pulled his cap down over his face \u2013 he seems to be sleeping.<\/p>\n
And the girl stands there, smiling, not scared \u2013 good for her. Well, you really are something, I say. You lie, and don\u2019t even blush. And you\u2019re not afraid \u2013 since when he wakes up, will he run to complain? No, she says, he won\u2019t run. He\u2019s only brave with old people and nurses, until they send him away. Don\u2019t worry, grandpa, everything will be fine.<\/p>\n
So, she smiles, sits down next to me, and whispers quietly. What she\u2019s whispering, I can\u2019t understand. I asked her to speak louder \u2013 she repeated. We don\u2019t have any Zina, she says, checked on the computer. Go to the district hospital, she says, maybe she\u2019s there. Well, I told her \u2013 I went to the district hospital, dear, Zina isn\u2019t there.<\/p>\n
The girl thought for a moment, took out her phone, and started fiddling with it. I thought she would call someone, maybe to have me taken away \u2013 but no, she had some card on her phone. I asked who Zina specialized in \u2013 I said, she\u2019s the village doctor, treated the whole village for all kinds of ailments, even operated on us, and pulled teeth. She thought some more, and said \u2013 well, if she\u2019s not in the district or city, then she\u2019s probably in private practice.<\/p>\n
Now I\u2019ll teach you, she says. You there, grandpa, don\u2019t even think about asking about your Zina. They generally don\u2019t like old folks \u2013 you have no money, if you come to a private hospital, it\u2019s for some trivial matter. Say you want to be treated. Do you have money?<\/p>\n
I tell you, two thousand we gathered as a village for the trip. The girl got a little dazed and suddenly jumped up, saying, \"Wait, I'll be right back,\" and ran off to the hospital again. I lit up another cigarette\u2014what's the deal, is there no second guard here? And this one is sitting, dozing off, even started to snore, drool coming down. I wiped it with that hat of his so no one would notice\u2014they'd think I felt unwell and call for doctors.<\/p>\n
The girl was gone for a quarter of an hour. Soon this chap will have to wake up\u2014better start packing the fishing rods, but, thank God, she ran out, holding some paper. She approached, sat down, quietly slipped it into the pocket of my jacket, and said, \"Here, grandfather, it's a special referral. Give it to them in the private clinic, tell them it's from the outpatient clinic\u2014they'll read it and understand. It's like we treated you here but didn't figure out what you're sick with, so we're sending you to the private clinic, and we\u2019ll pay for your treatment. That's what matters to them\u2014to have someone pay. Just don't get too cocky\u2014tell them you need an examination first, and treatment will be only upon agreement. Let them write down what they prescribe, and, well, you\u2019ll think it over and decide. Got it?\"<\/p>\n
Got it, I said. What a nice girl she is. And she keeps smiling\u2014oh, it's a pity I'm old, such beauty is going to waste... So, I thanked her, hugged her goodbye, and went on my way. She stopped me\u2014\"How long will he sit there?\" she asked. \"Fifteen more minutes, and he'll wake up. His head will hurt a bit, but that\u2019s about it. You think he won't complain?\" The girl smiled\u2014\"Don't worry, grandfather, he\u2019ll be shy, after all, he's an old man, forgive me, I hit him in the ear. He'll be as quiet as a fish on ice.\"<\/p>\n
So, I made it to the private clinic\u2014it was across the road. Apparently, they set up closer\u2014so anyone tired of sitting in line would run to them. I walked in\u2014it felt like entering space! The walls were white, all shiny, there were sofas everywhere, and palm trees were growing; if only they weren't serving vodka. I approached the girl at the desk; she looked at me suspiciously\u2014probably thinking I took a wrong door.<\/p>\n
But I didn\u2019t care, I sat down, crossed my legs, took the paper out of my pocket, and slapped it down on the table. She took it reluctantly, with two fingers, scanned it with her eyes\u2014and all the foolishness disappeared as if by magic!<\/p>\n
Hello, this is Foma Kuzmich speaking! At first, I was taken aback \u2013 why is she calling me Foma? I\u2019m Nikiphor. It only dawned on me later \u2013 the nurse obviously didn\u2019t know my name when filling out the paperwork. Well, I thought, she\u2019ll ask for my passport now, and old Mikhailych's last reconnaissance mission will fail!<\/p>\n
No, she didn\u2019t ask. She told me to wait a moment, picked up the phone, called someone, and soon a little man appeared \u2013 quite plump, but polished, dressed in a suit, obviously with a tie, his shoes shining. 'Come along,' he said, 'Foma Kuzmich.'<\/p>\n
So I got up, and we went. We entered the office, and there was \u2013 no couch, no scales, no cupboard with pills. There was a sturdy oak table, leather chairs, and carpets on the floor. I glanced at my galoshes and felt quite embarrassed. I quietly took them off and left them at the entrance. The man sat down at the table, I settled in across from him.<\/p>\n
So he said, 'What brings you here?' And I looked around, unable to figure out \u2013 is he a doctor or what? I thought I\u2019d ask directly. 'What specialty do you have, sir?'<\/p>\n
He didn\u2019t even blink \u2013 'I\u2019m the manager,' he said. I frowned \u2013 'What are you talking to me for then? I need a doctor. Come on, take me to a doctor. You are a manager, I\u2019m a tractor driver, what kind of illnesses are we supposed to discuss?'<\/p>\n
He laughed, almost rolling on the floor \u2013 apparently, I had said something utterly nonsensical. 'You, old man, haven\u2019t been to a private clinic in a while, have you?' No, I replied, I\u2019m here for the first time. Well, the manager said, listen up. Here, the order of things is different \u2013 first, you talk to the manager, and only then with the doctors. And most likely, you won\u2019t even need to see the doctors. I\u2019ll talk to them myself, I\u2019ll find you the right specialist \u2013 for your head, stomach, or nerves \u2013 we have all kinds here.<\/p>\n
At that moment, it dawned on me: apparently, the manager replaced the therapist. Well, that was how it used to be in the district clinic. Whatever was wrong with you, you went straight to the therapist, and he would redirect you. After all, how could you, old man, know if you need a neurologist or a proctologist if it hurts just below your back when you sit in the saddle?<\/p>\n
I asked directly \u2013 'Are you the therapist?' He laughed again \u2013 'Old man, you're asking too many questions, are you a spy or what?' I played the fool \u2013 saying, oh, where would I be, I\u2019m just old, I haven\u2019t been to clinics in a long time, I don\u2019t know how things work here. I just want to see a doctor.<\/p>\n
He seems to have started to get frustrated\u2014he's tired of laughing. \"Come on,\" he says, \"tell me what's bothering you. I'll draft a treatment plan for you, the procedures, tests, examinations. And the doctors will carry out what I write.\"<\/p>\n
I can't help it\u2014\"How will you write me a treatment plan if you're not a doctor? Isn't it taught in your management school what pills to use for what?\" He started to twitch\u2014\"They teach everything there,\" he says. A manager is, it seems, a universalist. No matter where you push him, he will land on his feet like a cat. If needed, he'll create a treatment plan. If forced, he'll draft a travel plan. If it comes to it, he'll write functional requirements. If this keeps up, he'll even draft a preliminary estimate for building a cosmic launch pad.<\/p>\n
So now, he says, it's like that everywhere. The manager takes the task, then passes it to the specialists. And they carry it out. Well, they might grumble a bit if something completely ridiculous is written\u2014then the manager will correct it. This, he says, is called a flexible approach. Like with worms, perhaps?<\/p>\n
So come on, old man, don't mess with my head anymore\u2014tell me what's wrong. I thought for a bit and decided\u2014I'll start small, I want to figure out how things work around here. I said I'm coughing. The manager wrote something down and looked at me again. I stayed silent. \"That's it?\" he asks. \"That's it,\" I reply.<\/p>\n
He sighed heavily, thought for a moment, got up, and went to the door\u2014not the one we came in through, but the other side. He stopped at the door and said, \"Make yourself at home, Fyoma Kuzmich, if you want to drink\u2014there's water in the corridor.\" And he left.<\/p>\n
I followed him like a mouse. I peeked out\u2014he was walking down the corridor, not looking back. He stopped at two doors and entered the one on the right. I ran up and looked\u2014\"Doctor's Office\" was written on the door. Next to it was a small couch, and a jar of water was placed on top of a faucet\u2014just like our outdoor washbasins. You just have to press the front to let the water flow, not from the bottom.<\/p>\n
I sat down and listened \u2013 they were laughing like horses in the office. They said, \"Seni, you\u2019re an idiot. What does 'I cough' mean? Is it a dry cough or a wet one? In the morning, or before bed, or does it wake you at night? Is there blood, or just mucus coming out?\" Seni babbled something, saying that cough is just a cough, and they laughed even harder \u2013 saying if the old man is really old, he might be coughing up his last breaths while you're messing with our minds. It seemed like Seni asked what to prescribe, and someone with a loud voice answered \u2013 go ahead, schedule a tomography, you're our brilliant seller, just as long as you can grab the commission. Especially if the clinic pays for it.<\/p>\n
Well, I thought, I need to return to my original position \u2013 I ran into the office, closed the door, sat down, and waited. Seni came in \u2013 his cheeks were flushed, his eyes were darting around; he sat in the chair and caught his breath. He said \u2013 a couple of questions came from the specialists to clarify the diagnosis I made. Is the cough dry or wet? I said \u2013 it's wet in the morning, dry in the evening. Seni asked about blood \u2013 no, I said, I've never had anything like that.<\/p>\n
Seni scribbled something down, paused for a moment, and said: well, that's it, Foma Kuzmich, I've outlined the treatment plan. You need a tomography, a complete blood test, an ultrasound of the heart, kidneys, and bladder, a dental X-ray, a biopsy, and I\u2019ll prescribe some vitamins right away. My jaw just dropped \u2013 luckily, it's still my own, otherwise that would have been awkward.<\/p>\n
I said, my dear, who do you think I am? Even though I\u2019m old, I know how to treat a cough. Look, tablets for it sell for about twenty rubles. That\u2019s when Seni really got going\u2026<\/p>\n
He said, everyone thinks they know better how to treat ailments. They start with a cough but don\u2019t ask actual specialists, and end up in a situation where they can't even take a step. Don't skimp on your health, he says. Listen to qualified specialists, and if they say you need an MRI and vitamins \u2013 then don\u2019t hesitate, just pay and get it done.<\/p>\n
I wouldn't back down \u2013 I said, Seni, excuse me, but let me at least talk to the doctors! You know nothing about illnesses! I know more! Do you want me to show you where to press on your carotid artery so you can sleep for half an hour? Seni seemed to get a bit scared or decided not to get involved \u2013 fine, he said, I\u2019ll ask one more time. And you, old man, clarify something about your cough.<\/p>\n
I thought for a moment about what to say, and then it clicked \u2013 I had to say it in a way that Zina would understand if she was there. I pondered, and then said, \"Seni, tell them I'm coughing as if I've swallowed a persimmon.\" \"What?\" he asked again. \"A persimmon,\" I replied and nodded. The doctors would get it. He shrugged his round shoulders and went back to the doctor\u2019s office, while I followed him.<\/p>\n
I sat there, and they weren't laughing this time. I couldn't catch anything, not even noticed Seni's return \u2013 I quickly grabbed a glass and pretended to pour water. He stood over me and asked, \"Hey, old man, are you from Makaryvo, by any chance?\" I nodded, saying yes.<\/p>\n
Let's go, he said. One of the specialists wants to talk to you. Well, I already knew who it was. Zina, of course.<\/p>\n
He brought me into a proper doctor's office, and as soon as I saw Zina, I started grinning so much I almost ripped my mouth. But I didn't show it \u2013 I walked in, sat down, and kept quiet. And Seni sat down beside me. Zina looked at me, smiled softly, then suddenly shouted at Seni \u2013 \"Why are you sitting there? Get out of here!\" He started arguing, saying he was my manager and couldn't leave me alone, but she quickly put him in his place \u2013 \"Medical confidentiality hasn't been canceled yet.\" Seni didn't find anything to argue back with and left.<\/p>\n
Well, we hugged, as is proper. But she seemed sad, somehow. We sat and talked. She said she left because she was tired. They pay very little in the village \u2013 there's no hospital, she worked almost on a volunteer basis, and had been doing so for nearly forty years. No one to marry \u2013 who is there in the village? It's all drunks, and those who don't drink are all busy.<\/p>\n
She said she thought about it for a long time. She wanted to consult with the people, but didn't dare \u2013 she knew they would persuade her, and she would give in. That\u2019s why she left at night, caught a ride, and immediately changed her phone number so they wouldn't start calling her.<\/p>\n
I shed a tear \u2013 \"Zina,\" I said, \"what are we supposed to do without you? What should we do? Travel to the city? Look at it here \u2013 you can't wait in line at the clinic, you\u2019ll die before they see you. And in the private one \u2013 you\u2019ll pay a year\u2019s salary just to treat a boil. But you, Zina, would give us some calendula, and it would pass in two days. Who in the city even knows about calendula?\"<\/p>\n
Here, Zina also burst into tears. She got up, locked the door \u2013 apparently, to prevent Senya from barging in. Understand me, she says, Mikhailych. I just can't anymore! I understand everything; it's all good for you in the village, you like it there, you have plenty to do, you have roots there, but what do I have? No one. When I arrived, back then, out of foolishness, during my placement, I thought \u2013 a village, fresh air, good people. Well, let\u2019s admit, the people are good, and they treat me like family, and the air is alive. And that\u2019s it?<\/p>\n
I have acquaintances from the medical institute \u2013 they are all in the city, spending half the day at the clinic, to keep their connections alive, and writing dissertations there, while the other half is spent in private clinics, where they earn significantly more. They all have apartments, cars, and regularly go to the sea. And those who are in the north have been making two hundred thousand a month for a long time. I was taken aback \u2013 our whole village doesn\u2019t earn that much.<\/p>\n
I want to live normally, she says, like a human being. For the last time, as they say. I even stopped arguing with her \u2013 I started to understand, it seems. I said, so, what\u2019s happening for you here? Zina smiled, waved her hand, laughing \u2013 don\u2019t worry, Mikhailych, where do we not thrive?<\/p>\n
They just appointed me as the chief diagnostician here, she says. This means I can identify ailments faster and better than anyone else. Well, of course, in the village, everything had to be done by eye, whether it's a cold, a fracture, or an intestinal twist. I got so good at it that I don't even need tests \u2013 especially since there\u2019s no opportunity to take them.<\/p>\n
At first, I was worried \u2013 here, do you see how everything is? Tomographies, ultrasounds, countless specialties \u2013 and I\u2019m just a doctor. When I was hired, I couldn\u2019t even name my specialty properly \u2013 I called myself a therapist, just like in my diploma. But when patients started coming in \u2013 I immediately diagnosed, even from the descriptions that Senya brought.<\/p>\n
I couldn\u2019t help myself \u2013 I asked, who is this Senya. She said, this is totally ridiculous; it was recently invented. Their director went somewhere in Moscow, listened to things, and decided that seeing a doctor immediately is outdated. Apparently, a doctor is like a child. A person comes to him with a cough, the doctor writes a prescription and sends them on their way. The patient only pays for the appointment, won\u2019t even buy the tablets \u2013 they say it\u2019s too expensive for us. That\u2019s why sales are practically none \u2013 the director said \u2018we simply sell our time.\u2019 But it\u2019s supposed to be selling more.<\/p>\n
And I came up with the idea to hire a manager. That person is competent; he won't just sell what's needed\u2014he'll definitely push, as he said, additional products. He called us programmers and marketers, they set up some program, and wanted us to enter all the records from over the years\u2014to understand whom we can sell what to.<\/p>\n
We, of course, got upset, threatened to leave\u2014but it worked out; we hired students from med school, and they almost did everything for free. These marketers figured things out and made tables for us\u2014Zina pulled them out and showed us. It listed ailments and what could be added to each.<\/p>\n
There are also separate scare cards that even the doctors had to memorize. Like, if there's a cough, they need to mention all the diseases associated with that cough. They'll throw in cancer, and even say that, according to recent studies, the heart can cause a cough. And the main goal is to sell everyone tomography as the latest and greatest achievement of world medicine. Overall, Zina said it's indeed useful; it can find illnesses on its own, but it's painfully expensive. And the director needs to recover money for the device, so he's trying hard.<\/p>\n
But it didn't work out with the doctors. They can't prescribe tomography if a person has an infected cut on their finger or a rash from strawberries on their face. So they separated patients from doctors and put managers in charge. Senya is supposedly the best. They say he used to work with programmers and knows the drill\u2014it's the same issue there. A good programmer, like a doctor, knows the treatment faster than a person can explain their issue. So they treat quickly, cheaply, but the company gains almost nothing.<\/p>\n
On the other hand, Zina says, it's actually simpler. Many doctors have started to dull before our eyes, while new ones from the institute are just happy like children. They don't need to think anymore; just follow orders. A manager prescribes a drip; you should just smile and stick the needle in, without asking questions. Some doctors have forgotten how to diagnose and are at a loss about treatment. Soon they'll be like nurses\u2014they've always worked that way.<\/p>\n
Moreover, many people's specialization has gone off track. If earlier a doctor was a surgeon, he was just that: a surgeon. He could cut, set bones, diagnose appendicitis, and even cure a hernia without a scalpel. But now, he\u2019s almost like someone who needs a piece of paper telling him where and what to cut, how to stitch it up afterward, and what needs to be rinsed out inside, or what little instrument to insert. It\u2019s as if they\u2019ve turned into factory workers on an assembly line who don't use their brains at all. It\u2019s bad, you see, the brain switches off quickly when you not only don\u2019t see the medical history but even the whole patient. Just a part that the manager pointed you to.<\/p>\n
I'm at it again \u2013 saying, if things are that bad, come back to us! We'll figure something out with the money. I'll talk to the chairman; maybe he will arrange a higher salary for you, or I don't know how they pay rural doctors extra. No way.<\/p>\n
Zina says she\u2019ll save up a bit more and wants to open her own clinic. She'll start with one office and will take patients herself. She says you\u2019re not the only one, Mikhailych, who doesn\u2019t like the way things are around here. Many patients complain they can\u2019t reach the doctors, and they pay money as if for a car repair. It's easier to just lie down and die.<\/p>\n
She found like-minded doctors among her peers \u2013 those older ones who still remember the Hippocratic oath and that unforgettable feeling \u2013 when a patient, realizing that he only needs to take some pills, smiles sincerely, just like one might have when discovering a gift under the Christmas tree in childhood. Zina says that no amount of money can replace that.<\/p>\n
Then I chimed in \u2013 Zina, I say, when you are in the village, we\u2019ll smile at you so much you\u2019ll get tired of being surprised! She wouldn\u2019t budge. I shed a tear again \u2013 I can't help it. I want to earn money and help people too, it's almost like a curse.<\/p>\n
Then I had an idea \u2013 Zina, I said, what if we come to you for treatment? You know, when you open your clinic. Or maybe you could come to us? Once a week or something? What do you think?<\/p>\n
Apparently, she hadn\u2019t thought of that \u2013 her eyes immediately brightened, she smiled and nodded. Exactly, she said, Mikhailych! Why didn\u2019t I think of that! But, I\u2019m going to treat for money, and in your village...<\/p>\n
Oh, I say, don't be afraid! You're a city girl now, you have no potatoes of your own, no meat, no greens, not even a place to get some homemade brew! We'll take care of you, Zina \u2013 you know us, we have the freshest stuff, no chemicals, straight from the garden! No money? Then at least we'll feed you until you're full! There will even be some left for sale.<\/p>\n
No, he says, don\u2019t mistake me \u2013 I\u2019m a doctor, not a merchant. But it's a good idea. Especially if we provide transportation \u2013 we'll bring her from the city, she'll heal for a day and go back with some goodies. I promised to organize everything. That\u2019s what we agreed on.<\/p>\n
We sat a little longer, reminiscing about the old days over some tea. You\u2019re right, Mikhailych, this idea of yours is clever. I immediately understood that someone from Makaro was involved, and sure enough \u2013 it was me. Where else would I get the money for a private hospital?<\/p>\n
\u2014 Well, you know the rest. \u2013 Mikhailych finished his story. He pulled out another cigarette, lit it, and with a sense of accomplishment stared at the clouds drifting over the village.<\/p>\n
\u2014 You, Mikhailych, are something else\u2026 \u2014 the chairperson said with a smile. \u2013 Would you be my deputy? We still need to repair the bridge, you might manage to negotiate that, go to the city?<\/p>\n
\u2014 God forbid. \u2013 Mikhailych dramatically crossed himself. \u2013 I've had enough. I saved the Motherland last time.<\/p>\n
\u2014 Good job! Good job, Mikhailych! You really did it! \u2013 cheers rang out from the crowd. \u2013 I\u2019ll have a shot! I\u2019m the first to Zina!<\/p>\n
But Mikhailych was no longer listening. He quietly slipped past the Kirovets and headed home.<\/p>\n
Only registered users can participate in the survey. Please log in<\/a><\/noindex>, please.<\/p>\n