Story of a cinic

It was Sunday night. A short middle age woman sat on a chair in the kitchen. Sobs were heard from the living room. For some reason the woman could not cry. Her lips were swollen and bleeding. She was doing her husband CPR for two and a half hours until her lips felt the cold and numbness of her husband’s body. He returned from the hospital the night before after a successful heart surgery. She hadn’t seen him so happy and content for a very long time. As they went to bed he told her that he never imagined how lucky he was to be married to her and that he is grateful for every minute of their marriage.
He was still asleep when she got up in the morning. His breathing was smooth and quiet. The woman tiptoed into the kitchen trying not to wake her husband and began preparing a big family breakfast. He did not get up for breakfast. At 10 am he was still asleep. At 11 am she finally decided to wake him up.

He did not react when she called him. She shook his shoulder and noticed the paleness of his skin. Bluish lips were outlined against the bloodless face. She could not remember what she was doing. She desperately attempted to bring her husband back to life by doing CPR. His teeth cut her lip. She felt salty taste of blood. Her daughter called the ambulance. Having heard the age of the man and the cause of call, the ambulance did not rush to come. When the ambulance arrived the man was already in the state of postmortem rigor.

A young good-looking doctor was slowly filling out the death certificate.  Two ambulance men in white coats were taking out the decedent on a stretcher. A faint smile remained on his lips – he died happy.

-          “I don’t understand it. He was perfectly fine last night. Said his health improved after the heart surgery. And then… this morning… I did CPR for two hours and could not bring him back. He was still warm when I began” – said the woman taking a sedative.
-          “Believe me, he would not be grateful if you brought him back” -  said the young doctor, staring into vacancy.

Moscow State Medical Academy #1 gave the world many legendary doctors and scientists. Academy was deservedly proud of its graduates.  It has always been an institution with the highest entry level and attracted the most talented and gifted young people.
Ivan was an extremely ambitious young man. First in his class in biology and chemistry. As many young people, after finishing school he headed for Moscow to conquer the big city. His choice of institution was never determined by noble aspiration for healing the sick and helping those in distress, but rather by his ambitious pursuits. He chose to become a doctor to continue the family tradition. Besides, he was attracted by the aura of admiration and worship people had for white coats. He pictured himself walking down the hospital hall in a haughty and condescending manner. His patients would bow and scrape before him,  devotedly looking him in the eyes in hope of recovery.

He successfully passed all the entering exams and was admitted to the surgery department. First year was at the same time boring and stressful. First year of studies is not only meant to teach students general theoretical subjects and basics of their future profession, but also to eliminate the weakest students.
The second year began the anatomy practicum. Classes took place in the morgue of the adjacent hospital. Before descending the shabby marble stairs of morgue each student received a plastic bag and  cotton, moistened in ammonium chloride.  Exuding sickly formaline odor, anatomy professor put on an oilcloth apron and rubber gloves and lead the students into the mortuary. In the middle of the gloomy room  stood a  high metal slab on top of which laid a skinny body of an old man. His limbs were unnaturally crooked and bloodless skin had a yellowish tinge. Some of the students instantly got out their plastic bags. Ivan suppressed sickness and turned his mind to the practicum.

-          This object happens to be the corpse of a man, who died of consuming a large amount of dichlorvos – explained professor.
Then followed  a long description of the possible cause of death. Professor’s voice sounded boring and monotonous as the students were getting lost in the reverie.

-          Now, let’s begin the autopsy – said professor beaming with joy in flush of enthusiasm.
Professor longingly gazed at the set of dissecting knives and chose the one he fancied. He ran the knife down from the throat to the pubic bone, opened up the abdomen, took the trachea with one hand and pulled it with a jerk. When Ivan saw the cleared out abdomen and glanced at the self-satisfied professor holding the man’s internals by trachea, he felt a chill gradually going down from the top of his head to his toes. In a second he fainted. It was the first and the last time Ivan fell unconscious.

In the course of years Ivan’s feelings progressively hardened and he considerably improved his professional skills. He could eat while dissecting a decomposing body. He did not notice nudity. He was not afraid of catching disease and would even anatomize without gloves. Although he learned his lesson when he cold-bloodedly dissected a body not bothering to put on gloves. Pathologist’s report showed that the man had AIDS.
As it often happens, medical students played jokes on each other. The more they got involved, the more cruel the jokes were becoming. And one day Ivan excelled his group mates  in sophistication and inhumanity of his joke, causing confusion and even horror among his friends.
It was one week before the New Year. A time when the whole city was buzzing. People ran around searching for presents and delicacies for New Years eve. Ivan was on duty at the hospital. He sat in the staffroom drinking tea. At noon a 6- months pregnant woman was admitted to the hospital. Examination showed that her condition was critical and the fetus had to be removed immediately.
The surgery was over. Woman’s condition was stable. Ivan stood at the sink washing his hands. He glanced at the remains of the fetus and a diabolical idea suddenly struck his mind… That evening Ivan was going to a New Year party, traditionally held by Ivan’s best friend. It was a small quiet gathering meant to exchange gifts and New Year wishes.
The party went well. Friendly atmosphere, tasty dishes and excited conversation made it pleasant, however, something else made it unforgettable. At midnight everyone gathered at the Christmas tree to open presents. Suddenly the rustling of wrappers was interrupted  by a scream, striking terror in the present company. As a present Ivan’s friend received a New Year post card and a plastic bag with a tiny disjointed human body inside. 
Time passed and, gradually, Ivan learned to ignore groans of pain, wailing and cries of his patients. He did notice the change in his character. His heart used to sink at the sight of suffering. Now his countenance was impenetrable and his heart was stony. However, he derived consolation at the thought of being second to none in his profession. He was now cool and self-possessed. His every move was precise and measured. A patient’s body was no more than an attribute of a practicum. He ignored the consequence of his words and actions motivating his indifference by striving for perfection. As they say, each surgeon has his own little graveyard. Ivan’s graveyard unavoidably grew and flourished. The first time a patient died on the operating table, Ivan drank heavily for a week. Over the time he began to treat the battle for human life as venturous game with death, which he did not always win.

-          Son, you cannot be a good doctor if you don’t love people – once said one of his patients, who suffered from arthritis – You better come to your senses now, before you are brought to reason by a higher force. A doctor has to be humane like no other.
-          I don’t like your tedious attempts to moralize me. Take your prescription. Your x-ray will be ready by Monday. See you then. – said the young man.
Who ever would have thought that the man’s words were prophetic. A fatal car accident took the lives of his wife and five-year old son. Ivan had seven infarctions and clinical death. It was the first time he actually prayed. He begged for an eighth infarction to become lethal. Passing into nothingness, Ivan rejoiced that his prayers were finally heard. Thrilling chill gave way to a wave of heat, feeling of tranquility and serenity. Then came the stabbing pain and inconceivable sense of misery and despair, which increased and redoubled as he was being brought back to life. He never expected life to be so insufferable. However, with suffering returned sympathy and compassion. His body was perishing while his soul revived. By all accounts he had no more than three years to live. Another heart attack was to become last.  He left medical practice and volunteered to work at the ambulance attending fatal cases. The last days of his life he was offering people comfort and consolation.