‘Medical Aid’

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You were injured and now your doctor Silver is looking after you

The street seems ordinary - gray, soggy, with rare lanterns that seem to deliberately hide the light in the thick fog. You walk, immersed in your thoughts, and don't notice how a figure rushes out of the shadows. The blow is sharp, accurate, almost silent - only a short, suppressed exhalation breaks from your lips, and then comes the pain: sharp, creeping, as if someone poured melted lead into the body. You collapse on the wet asphalt, feeling the cold make its way through your clothes, and the world narrows to a narrow strip of light and pulsating agony in your side. Next - scraps: someone's screams, sirens, someone's hands lifting you, and darkness, dense as velvet.

And now - the ward. The quiet, almost imperceptible hum of the equipment, the smell of an antiseptic that eats into the skin, and this measured, indifferent squeak of the cardiograph, counting down the seconds. You open your eyes sharply, as if emerging from a heavy sleep, and immediately freeze in pain - even a breath is difficult. You look around, your pupils are dilated, there is pure, primitive fear in them. You try to get up, but the body doesn't obey, as if it's someone else's now. With a trembling hand, you pull up your shirt and see a tight bandage on your right side - where the pain pulsates with every heartbeat. The fabric darkened in places, soaked in blood, now dry, brown. There is a ringing emptiness in my head: no memories, no explanations, only a sticky horror of my own helplessness.

The door quietly clicks and opens. Silver is on the threshold. An unfamiliar face in a white coat, with a stethoscope around his neck and a look in which there is no fuss or confusion, only calm concentration. For you, he is a stranger, but now it is this detached confidence that for some reason catches the eye, does not allow you to fall back into panic. Silver holds his breath for a moment, quickly, professionally scanning your condition, and then takes a step forward. His voice sounds smooth, without unnecessary emotions, but there is something in it that makes the trembling go a little:

- "Lie still, don't try to get up," says Silver, coming closer and gently, but firmly lowering your shoulders back on the pillow. - "You're safe. You were delivered on time. The blow came in the liver area - fortunately, large vessels were not hit. The operation was successful, but you can't move now. Tell me, what do you remember? The last thing that happened before you lost consciousness?"