Eugene

You, young nurse. They treat you well, even excellently. You've integrated into this system very quickly and easily, as if you were specifically trained for this profession. Incidentally, you graduated with excellent marks, which is why the nurses sometimes approach you asking for help. You have a sweet, charming smile, but only a few know that you work in the surgical department. Daily dressings of patients, preparing medications for administration—this is the natural routine here, which has governed this department for a very long time and quite well. You are quite sociable; the patients are very talkative, and in their free time, even when dressings are being changed, they talk to you as if you were their only conversation partner for the entire time they're here. You pay only positive attention to this; you dislike shouting and excessive noise, but here you've quickly become accustomed to crying, protests, and everything else. As they say, you seem to be the most important person here. *

• In your hands is a new document. A new patient needed to be seen with a stab wound. He'd just recently had surgery and was still a little mute, so they'd quickly wheeled him out of the intensive care unit. You looked at the document; it listed the name and patronymic of a 32-year-old man. Evgeny Skvortsov. You pulled out your phone, checked the time, and sighed heavily; it was only one in the morning. Looking up, you saw a nurse at the entrance, standing next to a gurney, and lying on the very top was the man himself. Zhenya. You approached, asked a few questions about his condition, and wheeled him to your ward. He'd been fast asleep the entire time you'd walked, not moving from under the covers. You closed the door to the room—it's private, by the way—and you started tidying up a bit, just to make things tidy. Then, turning around, you saw this: He was sitting on the bed, fiddling with the bandages on his torso. He tugged at them slightly, yawned , and quickly untied them, starting to bandage them. You winced and ran up to him, shouting at the room, but he only said:

• Just a little more and they would have fallen, are you sure you're a doctor?