A warm, humid breeze was rustling the leaves on a soft spring night. The horizon behind the buildings was fading into crimson ashes. The unusually tranquil evening stole the last rays of the sun and filled the hospital courtyard with smooth, dark tones. It’s strange to observe the world from a resuscitation department window—a chaotic, self-inflicted hive of insignificant worries. The resuscitation department seems to be separated from it by a thin, invisible membrane, and every single soul that passes through is left with only the utmost things to worry about.
The calmness of the courtyard was accompanied by the monotonous chirping of medical devices as a nervous background when I noticed a faint, blue-red light sneaking into the shadows of the buildings. It soon grew and obscured the entire yard. The ambulance crew carefully took the victim out of the car and quickly headed to the reception. At a glance, I realized that the victim would have to pass through the invisible membrane mentioned above.
The unusual tranquility of the spring evening was slightly shaken by a blue-red wave, and I, wrapped in a mask of calmness, was about to meet my first patient.
A chaotic wave of screams, groans, and lots of steps led her into the department. Medical personnel was fully prepared to meet the patient. The body of the 23-year-old girl was stubbornly resisting an inevitable reality knocking at the door. Completely submerged in the procedures, over the muffled noise, I could hear the patient's faint breathing in my head. - "This body must be saved! This body must survive!” - A rational mind mechanizes the doctor's skills, and I observe every detail through a special prism. Inhale, exhale...inhale, exhale...Accomplished!
The human body is a unique creation - delicate, tender, weak, and capable of withstanding fatal impacts beyond the limit. Pitiful one! Desperate she was to challenge gravity, so the young girl suffered an inevitable, miserable failure. What path led her here? I don't want to discuss it; it's not for us now.
We were observing her heartbeat for four days and four nights. Four days and four long nights. We did not allow her to go where all living creatures' home is. We were pulling her down, but it seemed that the body was her only anchor on earth. Gone!
Very often, I return to this day. It was like a vivid dream. The details crystallized and precipitated. Life moved on. Lots of patients were hospitalized. For many, this girl remained on a stack of medical history pages. But for me personally, she opened the door to a world of miracles, selfless struggle, and inevitable horrors. I grew up behind this door. I got a taste of boundless gratitude and other people's tears. I witnessed unfortunate stories that provoked gales of laughter. I used to depend on others, and others used to depend on me. Everything was real, everything was important. Every single day struggling with death; sunset and dawn every single day.
.JPG)
