On the first day in the evening I had an enema, after which I flew out of the shower like a moth. The nurses checked the quality of my hairstyle called shorts and gave me an injection before going to bed. In the morning I woke up from another injection, put on elastic stockings and, after a long wait, found myself on a gurney. A trip to the operating room can be compared to a trip around the world. First, the struggle for the cross on the neck, which was categorically asked to be removed, but I did not succumb, then overcoming obstacles in the form of thresholds and elevators. The journey ended with a gymnastic exercise on the operating table and an injection into the lumbar spine. Apart from the fact that the head of the department performed the operation not with paper, but with a living body and shaking my shoulders for a while, the operation went on normally. The triumphant return after the operation was accompanied by a check by the nurses of the state of my dignity and the counting of catheter tubes. At this time, in the ward, waiting for his turn, the patient Antonov was worried:

– when will they take me to the operation?

An elderly man, who was visited daily by his wife and escorted to the toilet, asked:

– are you going to be cut? Don't worry, surgeons sharpen knives.

This grandfather, as he explained, lost visual memory after a stroke, and if there was no grandmother, he asked anyone to take him to the toilet, saying:

– I don't remember how to go to the toilet. Now left or right. The cuckoo was blown away, I don't remember anything. Show me out.

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