Have time to remember

To the dying let everyone and at any time. My relatives were invited to call my relatives for a funeral, and a chain of grieving relatives reached out to say goodbye. I understood their difficulties: well, what to talk about with a dying person who, moreover, knows about it. I was funny to look at their confused faces.

I was glad: when would I still see them all? And most of all I wanted to share my love for Life with them - well, how can you not be happy just because you live? I amused my friends and relatives as best I could: telling jokes, stories from life. All, thank God, laughed, and the farewell took place in an atmosphere of joy and contentment. Somewhere on the third day I was tired of lying down, I began to walk around the ward, to sit by the window. Behind this occupation, the doctor caught me, rolling a tantrum that I should not get up.

I was genuinely surprised:
- Will it change something?
“Well ... No,” the doctor was confused now. - But you can't walk.
- Why?
“You have a body test.” You can not live, and began to get up.
A maximum of four days passed to me. I did not die, but with appetite I burst sausage and bananas. I was fine. But the doctor was bad: she did not understand anything. The tests did not change, the blood dripped to a barely pinkish color, and I began to go out into the hall, watching TV.

The doctor was sorry. And Love demanded the joy of others.
- Doctor, and what would you like to see my tests?
- Well, at least so.
She quickly wrote me some letters and numbers on a piece of paper, then what should be. I did not understand, but carefully read. The doctor looked sympathetically at me, mumbled something and left.
And at 9 am she broke into my ward with a shout:
- How are you doing this ...
- Analyzes! They are as I wrote to you.
- How do I know? And what good? And what, on fig, a difference?

Lafa is over. I was transferred to a common ward (this is where they no longer die). Relatives have already said goodbye and stopped walking.

There were five more women in the ward. They lay buried in a wall, and gloomily, silently, and actively died. I survived three hours. My love began to choke. It was necessary to urgently do something.

Rolling out a watermelon from under the bed, I dragged him to the table, cut it, and loudly said:
- Watermelon relieves nausea after chemotherapy.
The smell of fresh laughter drifted around the room. The rest hesitantly pulled up to the table.
- And really, shoots?
- Yeah, - I confirmed with knowledge, thinking: "But hell knows ..."
Watermelon crunched juicy.
- And the truth is gone! - said the one that lay at the window and walked on crutches.
- And I have. And mine, the others happily confirmed.
“Here,” I nodded in satisfaction. - But I once had a case ... Do you know the anecdote?

At two o'clock in the morning a nurse looked into the ward and was indignant:
- When will you stop laughing? You are disturbing the whole floor!
Three days later, the doctor hesitantly asked me:
- Could you move to another room?
- What for?
- In this ward, everyone's condition improved. And in the next lot of heavy.
- Not! - My neighbors shouted. - Do not let go.

Not let go. Only neighbors reached out to our ward - just sit and chat. Have a laugh And I understood why. Just in our chamber lived Love. She covered everyone with a golden wave, and everything became comfortable and calm.

I especially liked the Bashkir girl of about sixteen in a white kerchief tied at the back of the head with a bundle. The ends of a handkerchief sticking out in different directions made it look like a hare. She had cancer of the lymph nodes, and it seemed to me that she could not smile.

A week later, I saw what a charming and shy smile she had. And when she said that the medicine began to act and she was recovering, we arranged a celebration by setting the chic table, which was topped with koumiss, from which we quickly lost sight, and then went on to the dances.

The doctor on duty who came to the noise first looked at us frantically, and then said:
- I have been working here for 30 years, but I see this for the first time. Turned around and left.

We laughed for a long time, remembering his expression. It was nice.

I read books, wrote poems, looked out the window, talked with my neighbors, walked along the corridor and loved everything I saw: books, compote, neighbor, car outside the window, and old wood.

I stabbed vitamins. It was just necessary to prick at least something.
The doctor barely spoke to me, only looked strangely as she passed by, and three weeks later she said quietly:
- Hemoglobin you have 20 units more than the norm of a healthy person. No need to raise it anymore.

She seemed to be angry with me for something. In theory, it turned out that she was a fool, and was mistaken with the diagnosis, but this could not be, and she knew that too.

And once she complained to me:
- I can not confirm the diagnosis. After all, you are recovering, although no one treats you. And this can not be!
- And what is my diagnosis now?
“I haven't thought of it yet,” she answered quietly and left.
When I was discharged, the doctor admitted:
- So it is a pity that you leave, we still have a lot of heavy.
From our chamber all were discharged. And in terms of separation, the death rate this month has decreased by 30%. Life went on. Only a glance at her became different. It seemed that I began to look at the world from above, and therefore the scale of the review of what was happening changed.

And the meaning of life was so simple and accessible. You just need to learn to love - and then your possibilities will become endless, and desires will come true, if you, of course, will shape these desires with love, and you will not deceive anyone, you will not envy, be offended and wish evil to someone. So everything is simple, and so everything is difficult!

After all, it is true that God is Love. We just need to have time to remember it ...

 Lyudmila Fedorovna Lamonova

Source: http: //xn--80aaaanefedv8cbg8cp7h.xn--p1ai/node/227