Many years ago, an unpleasant story happened with my eldest son. On the playground in the park, he fell off the horizontal bar and lost consciousness. First they brought him to our regional hospital, but the doctors just shrugged their shoulders - we can’t do anything, take him to the regional one.
They barely waited for the ambulance, drove some 60 kilometers for three hours, then the wheel burst, then the gasoline ran out …
Barely begged then to skip the queue at the gas station, because there was such a line of cars that the mind is incomprehensible. Some man, I remember, took a can of gasoline from the trunk of the trunk, because the vacation rate was 10 liters, and there were no indulgences for the ambulance.
We arrived at the regional hospital at 3 am, and my son was taken to the intensive care unit. I categorically refused to go back and remained in the emergency room. The ambulance has left, I am sitting on a couch in the hallway. A sister comes out and says that it is not supposed to be here, everything will be known by morning and, they say, it does not concern me where you, mother, are now going.
I burst into tears from powerlessness in front of this human callousness, but - nothing can be done! - got up and walked to the exit. An elderly nurse called me and offered to sit out in the cleaning room. I had no strength, and I agreed.
The next morning it turned out that they had not brought a referral from the district hospital. I didn't know what to do anymore, there were no cell phones, I couldn't get through long distance calls …
I decided to go myself. I knew that the regional hospital was not located in the city itself, but outside it, that there was a bus going to the bus station. And time is running out, I may not be in time for my scheduled trip. I leave the hospital through the back door, walk along the sidewalk, almost run, and suddenly I see a narrow openwork bridge just off to the side above the river, most likely newly built, specifically for pedestrians, not cars.
It took me 10 minutes to reach the bus station across this bridge and in the evening I brought all the documents. The son came to his senses that day, I was completely calmed down. You could go home.
Promotional video:
I go to the bridge again, but … it's not there. As it was not. There is not even a path along which I was walking. It turns out that at a difficult moment for me, someone sent me help? I still don't know what it was.
Anastasia Pavlova, Murom