Chapter V. Feeling Like Gagarin

It was Friday, the fifth day at the hospital. The doctor came as always in the morning to find out who had died and who hadn’t die. He came to me and informed me that I could get up. But I needed a special bandage to put on. Otherwise my scars would tear, and I would have to pick up my guts from the floor and carry them in my pocket. Ha-ha, just kidding, there would have to sew me again)))

So, I put on the bandage and tried to get up. Officially – for the first time, but you know – it was really the second.

Firstly I sat on my bed. ‘I see the Earth through an illuminator’, I remembered the old Russian song about cosmonauts. Everything moved from left to the right and then stopped. I was asked: ‘So, what?’. I answered: ‘Cool, but it would be cooler with one more dose of drugs you gave me’. They answered that I wanted very much.

Then I left my bed and stood up. The way I saw this world can’t be compared to the best effects of Photoshop. There were so many colors in front of my eyes. I was standing for a minute, saw everything clearly and I made a step. A picture called ‘We are on the Moon’. It was hard. I made the second one, than the third one. I tried to concentrate. I went into the hall, there were many people. I decided to go to the toilet. It was my aim to do it by myself. Some minutes later I came back to the room and was about to die because of loss of energy. But the emotions were positive. The world seemed to be a computer game, something like ‘Quake’. I decided to go on playing that quest and walked a little bit more. The day passed in much the same way: lying – walking, lying – walking. Till the late evening I was exersining my legs. But I felt that I must have developed my brain after five days of being there.

Sometimes there were new ‘clients’ with appendicitis, ulcers and something else. I was the hardest patient in the surgery block, but it didn’t add any piece of respect for me from doctors and nurses.

The days were boring and I tried to read books. I began reading Dostoevsky, but there were too many letters for me. I wasn’t allowed to go outside so I figured out how to feel myself in the freedom. I went to the toilet, opened the windows and breathed with the fresh air of Novokuznetsk (as fresh as it can be).

Then the weekend came. The doctor, who was my surgeon, didn’t come to the hospital. Instead of him there were some more guys in white surgical coats, but I didn’t trust them because they were strange. One of them always wore a white cap on his head. He never took it off. And I though that his head ended above his eyebrows and there was an empty place instead of a brain. I was laughing out loud when I saw him. By the way, it was still painful even to laugh. Sometimes that doctor said incredible things which I will remember forever. I will tell about them later. I was thankful to Heaven that he wasn’t the doctor who permormed my surgery. I think I wouldn’t have all the organs after the operation; he could sell some of them to Europe.

On Sunday the other doctor came and asked how long I had been staying there. I answered: ‘One week’ and he said that it was the time to take out the stitches. It wasn’t painful.

So, the whole week passed after the surgery. I had so many disgusting and awful things happen during that week that I had never had happen before. If somebody doubts that this story is true – I don’t care. I was there.