Doctor Death"

Dr. "Death»

I have a friend Valera. We had known each other from student days when went together into one tourist club and engaged in water tourism. Outside it has, to put it mildly frightening. Under 2 meters of growth, broad, powerful athletic build. His stern, manly face "decorated" a broken nose and a large purple scar on his cheek. But appearances are deceiving. Valerín appearance did not jibe with his demeanor and character. In fact, he is humble and quiet man, and a very kind and sympathetic. His beautiful wife and three daughters of the soul it is not fer and he answers them in return. Scar - a reminder of his childhood passions pyrotechnics, and a broken nose - from the failed parachute jump in the army. My friend works as a surgeon in a fracture clinic. And, as they say, it is "a surgeon from the god golden hands." Many times he was asked to go to private clinics, but he did not agree, used to being at the forefront in the war against death.

It is to him I turned with the problem. For some time now I have on my back under the skin began to grow a little tight shot. While she was growing up I did not interfere, but eventually the tumor has grown to the size of a hen's egg, and became much itch and itch. I called Valerie and arranged to meet him in his emergency station in the evening after his shift. As darkness fell, taking a bottle of good brandy, I went for consultation. The friend looked at me and said do not worry, it is a lipoma, or in a simple way - wen.

 - If you want, I can cut right now, while none of the patients with no operating free - he said.

I agreed. I was pinned in the back of a local anesthetic and put on the table. Before I wind up, how fast, for some 10 minutes, it was over - the tumor was cut, stitched and bandaged his back.

 - Now, let's go drink your brandy - he said - Or do you think I'll drink it myself?

It turned out that for this they have a recreation room staff. Even the fridge and snacks are available. There we sat down, and slowly sipping brandy, talking, remembering past trips, herbs stories. That's how I heard this story:

 - Heavy today was the day - pouring, I told the doctor.

 - A major accident. They brought a bunch of people. One heavier than the other. Fractures, cuts, tears. A few hours in the operating room, even smoke there is no time to go, and even more so to change. The entire gown smeared with blood. Even the hat and that blood - splashed from the bursting of the container. And then some major arrived. His hand hurt. His sister said that the doctor is not available, you have to wait half an hour - so this bloke uporotyh began to shout that I'm even in the operating room heard. Just finished.

Clinking, touched glasses. "Cheers!" And drank, and he continued to talk.

 - Well, I was in a dressing gown and went into the corridor, even the hands are not washed. I see, I am a student back to me some, bunt on his pants to his knees, red sneakers and a baseball cap on backwards before. Waving his hands and breaking into shrieks, yells at the poor nurse:

- Shit, where the doctor! Instantly it here! I pulled a hand! Do you know who my father! I'll call him right now! You're here to suck dick in my wake!

I quietly went up, touched him on the shoulder and asked:

 - Who then queue to serve?

He turns around and sees me. In midsentence choked and stuttered, muttered:

 - Doctor Death!

Blanched, he rolled his eyes and lost consciousness and fell to the floor. In the hallway, suddenly smell wafted as in a public restroom.

I told the sister to bring the ammonia, and went to change clothes. When I came back, he was gone. Sisters told that nyuhnuv of jars and waking, he was quiet and thoughtful. Politely he apologized to them and said that he had no pain and ran away.

Biting lemon, with a surprised View doctor looked me in the eye and asked:

 - Why I run away? I just wanted him to lay his hand elastic bandage - but not sustained and, winking, laughing.

For a long time we were sitting and talking "for life", and only after midnight called a taxi and went home.

Shyrkan ©

February 2013





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