XII

Today we will get to know one of the most difficult research that medicine knows, but at the beginning something for horror lovers ...;)

I had a nice patient - a pensioner who used to work in the healthcare sector. He told me a story - as he claims from his life ...

At the beginning of the 1980s, there was reportedly only one incinerator for "organic human materials" in Krakow, located, of course, away from plants that cut people (read: surgery) or analyze these pieces (read: forensic medicine, histopathology, pathomorphology). And since the socialist system was still flourishing then, of course, these plants did not have any transport, so all things to be "burned" had to be carried by public transport. Of course, so that fellow passengers would not have a clue about the nature of the "parts" being transported. So it was done in plastic bags, which were put into popular nets-plastic bags for convenience (and supposedly for non-recognition).

Once, he and a colleague from work happened to transport to the crematorium a large batch of small, hmm… used parts. Of course, without a ticket, because what for. After all, socialism, i.e. the bus, belonged to them, so why pay for their own ...

The problem in the form of two canaries appeared quite quickly, what is worse, on the line between the center and Nowa Huta, where then there was still a longer piece with no stops. The gentlemen, however, did not panic, and one of them, assuming that there is nothing wrong with the canary on the bus. My patient, being covered by a friend, quickly pulled out an additional handle - amputated at the height of his wrist - and tucked it into his sleeve, so that only a part of his hand with fingers was sticking out. Then he politely waited for the controllers to come ...

At the standard "Check-up tickets, please" he said in a breaking voice that he only left the hospital after the accident and surgery, so the tram pulled up so he got on, and the ticket was gone. He wanted them, as he claims, to give them one last chance and take them for pity, but the canaries, with a smile of superiority, let them get ready to write down "cripples". Seeing that compassion is not the strongest point of the gentlemen from MPK, the patient started to whine a few tones higher (mainly to find as much audience as possible) and approached the higher controller saying that he did not believe that he was fresh after the procedure and that he did not feel in his hands. he still has one, let him give him a hug test. Everything, of course, while putting almost into his hand with your prepared "hand"

The controller, suspecting nothing, grabbed his hand, squeezed ... and a second later he was stunned to see that it was in his hand. There was a deep silence. For a few moments you could hear every scratch of a wheel on the rail, not to mention the buzzing of a few insects. Everyone in the immediate vicinity focused their eyes on the hands joined in a male handshake, one of which was as if somewhat incomplete and stray some kind of ...

The patient, having a dramatic sense of time, waited a moment, then screamed that his canary had been torn off his freshly sewn hand - obviously due to the lack of a ticket. A few seconds later, the controller released his "hand" and began to defend himself loudly against the crowd which, after the Solidarity uprisings, wanted to lynch him, preferably by hanging it on the nearest traction pole. The outrage of the crowd was revealed, among others, in the form of a grandmother using an umbrella like a sword, two workers going on an afternoon shift, who verbally announced to "canaries" what an adult man could do at a rolling mill, and a student who, having with himself some thick volume, started with it threaten gentlemen by proclaiming various patriotic slogans. A dozen or so other people quickly joined the threats, which distracted the controllers so much that the patient and his friend managed to intercept them, push their way to the door and leave as quickly as possible at the first stop from the tumbling tram.

All in all, I wonder if that was the beginning of the riots in Nowa Huta, which I remember from my early youth ...

* * * * *

Immediately after the visit I mentioned earlier today, I got stuck in the studio where I was doing one of the most difficult research that medicine knows. This examination requires the doctor's constant concentration and absolute attention. And tremendous willpower to keep it serious.

This test is called SPIROMETRY !!

The patient's mother:

- Well, doctor, daughter is pretty well blown, right?

A 50-year-old patient:

- Doctor, I can't anymore. Maybe my wife breathes for a while?

Me to the patient at the so-called "flow-volume" loop

- Hold on exhale, just a moment more, please hold on, exhale, more, more… (BOOT) - I looked. The patient, flushed with exertion, collapsed under the table.

Okay, I felt stupid ... ..

[Me] Inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale, inhale ...

[P] I can't concentrate on breathing with the Lord !!

A 20-some-year-old hippie in the 1960s:

- I ate a lot of garlic this morning, will this affect the test result?

(for the atmosphere in the studio, for sure)

Spiroergometric test (i.e. a patient wearing a mask runs on an exercise treadmill)

- Oh God, doctor, I am coming, I am coming, now, now (And the nurses were counting on something ...)

Impatient patient (long waited for the examination)

- Doctor, will I finally deserve to blow myself?

[Me] (seeing that the patient is breathing very unevenly) - Please breathe deeply, evenly. You can count in your mind: inhale, exhale, inhale, exhale ...

[P - 20-year-old prankster] I breathe evenly and deeply, even quickly, only in time.

The father of an 18-year-old who is currently doing the test:

- Come on, blow it hard, what kind of a guy you are that you can't even blow !! ??

60-year-old matron:

- Should I pull out my jaws for examination? Because I would not like artificial respiration to come out ...