After meeting with him Oleg always confined himself in his office for a long time. Don’t know if he cried there after that sort of communication, but the smell of sedative Corvalol and Zelenin Drops could be recognized clearly. My acquaintance with Asscobar took place precisely for identical reason.

My first patient had been suffering a histrionic disorder for many years. She asked me to call her Helga. I spent from five to six hours every day conversing with her, or rather, it was her who directed me, merely right away after breaking down the door and saying: “I feel bad, help me!”

Basically, her complaints were about body sensations, pains, aches, “tingles” and “prickles” along the entire edges of her viscera, weakness in lower limbs, “as if the ground is about to crumble out from under me”. She complained of dizziness and of a lump in the throat, about the husband and children, who would never understand and support her, about the country we lived in and reality TV shows, absence of car, poor view from the window, flush toilet, curtains and so on and so forth. Yet, should I have turned the conversation towards her and her personality, all those states passed without a trace.

She loved to bring in her photographs of “youth” and we spent long times looking at them. At such moments she felt alive, but then she thought back of the aliment and all the sensations recurred.

Her misfortune was that earlier she had been a successful dancer. Helga had a bunch full of lovers and rich boyfriends, and the whole world was at her feet. However, after lying-in she put on weight, stopped taking care of herself, began making scenes and faulted her husband and children with her “ruined life.” Shortly after, all the sensations joined in.

She got sick and turned to all the doctors. Everyone unanimously declared: “healthy,” and there she ended up in the Department. She equally disliked everything: the ward, the doctor, the catering or the personnel, or herself personally. However, should a handsome man be admitted to the Department, Helga revived and her condition “improved, in a way.”

When she got discharged, she filed grievances against everyone including the Physician-in-Chief, the Head of the Department, all the staff, yet “with an exception to Maria, since she’s still wet behind her ears.”

Such patients’ mission is to make the doctor feel worthless and, unfortunately, no remedy but life is capable to heel them. Although, Pablo thought differently and indicated his willingness to communicate it to me.

When I entered his office for the first time, my knees were literally shaking. I did not have the pleasure to meet him in person before, but had heard a lot of his “kind heart”. He set himself puffing a red Marlboro fag in a huge office of fancy furniture and an operating air conditioner – a luxury itself for us, doctors, since “save the state electricity” was Asscobar’s regular mantra. Huge hands and balding gel styled up gray hair, apparently, “after the fashion”, meticulously piercing gray eyes and a shirt, that did not converge on his stomach, all together added more of unpleasing charm to his already unflattering image.

“My, my, truth did they speak,” I thought.

“Good day, Mr. Dollton,” I began timidly. I heard my voice as if from a distance being treacherously atonal, my heart was leaping out of my chest and my head was spinning.

He was in no hurry to answer. Having scrutinized me acidly in detail and disdain, he then, broke into a smile, exposing his small tobacco-stained teeth:

“Well, hello, ma Cherie,” he hissed. “Not a perfect start to your career.

What are these complaints to everyone here?”

Having taken a sheet of paper by his thick hand, he threw it at me over the table.

“Are you willing ‘un réprimande’ from day one? Then I will arrange, ” pleased with his power and, having recognized something funny in his phrase, he burst out into a vile laugh. He continued through laughter:

“Will be an 'inefficiency' entry in the employment record from the first

month of employment. Once more again like this and I am gonna throw you away, like a useless dog, I am clear?”

“I apologize, I … No need to, I won’t do it anymore, honestly, I didn’t want to …” my tears traitorously ran and there I stood with my head down trying my best to maintain dignity and not to start weeping.

“Dismissed! Dumb nurse…” “Goodbye.”

I shot out of the office like a bullet. His secretary gave me a short scanning glance and continued typing something over the keyboard with her sleek purple nails and a grin on her face. Having got myself out into the street I burst into tears all the same. Annie was walking towards me by that time.

“Sweet Marie, what on Earth has happened?” she gave me a concerned look.

“Nothing at all,” I mumbled somehow trying to pull myself together. “You’ve been to Pablo, haven’t you?”

“Yeah,” and there I wept aloud of the offence and injustice.

“Hey, stop, bosses are not elected and we all howl, but have no other. He has tight relations in the Ministry. So many smart doctors resigned because of this, don’t let it get you down! What is important, is that you do good for a noble cause, you save people. And take no offense at the patient or one may think, it is the mad house you are employed with?”

We burst out laughing through tears.

“I confess I got tangled after my today’s conversation with the chief. There was an impression of being captured by Gestapo while accomplishing an intelligence mission.”

“Yes, true, none of us admires to go onto the carpet. Everyone in the hospital takes benzodiazepines after talking to him, but don’t worry, we have a lot of good people, though don’t you trust anyone. They smile at you here, but you still be a prostitute, an alcoholic or a drug addict behind your back. Experts and good people are especially not appreciated. Intrigues, scandals, investigations… A special topic for a coffee break agenda in every department is 'who got laid with whom'.”

“Annie, why are people like that? Why isn’t it possible to live a sincere and heartful life, love what you do and enjoy it? Why?

“Sweet Marie, half of them are wounded themselves. It is you, who has

just come in. I’ve been working here for fifteen years. The nut house absorbs you. You see too much grief every day. You get used to it. A year goes by five, – by two according the law, but – five in fact. You live many lives or otherwise you are not a doctor. You are compelled to empathize and share, love people, and only then you are able to heal. All the rest is a fake. Fine, I got into philosophy. Shall we drink a coffee?”

“Let’s go,” and we walked along the dear nut house, having already realized that a bright pulse of true friendship had arisen between us.

Happensiness*

I am 9. A Russian literature class is on. Legs are trembling. My task is to eloquently recite a piece of poetry. It is a verse of my choice. “I’m sitting by bars in the damp blackened cell.... The juvenile eagle, who’s bred by the jail…²” . Words are pouring out of me and I, in fact, experience all the emotions of that prisoner with his eagle friend. I am taking my time, recite with passion and proper accents… finalize the declamation and hear my teachers approving

“Take you sit, Marie. It’s an 'A'!” I run jumping and sit to my place next to

Vovka, my closest and dearest friend.

Vovka is already trying cigarettes, often comes with a black eye, since “mom drinks”, and our friendship is inseparable. I do his module tests because “one needs to study well, otherwise will become a street cleaner”. I don’t want Vovka to become a street cleaner, but schooling doesn’t work out for him well. Yet he is good in carrying my schoolbag and protecting me. We giggle at out new teacher – her teeth stick up forward and Vovka mocks her quite well.