Making decisions in principle is not easy. And when it comes to the fact that he threatens to directly affect our lives, and we cannot boast of information and competence in this matter, it becomes completely unbearable.
-It is necessary to break the wall, the pipes will have to be changed entirely,-the plumber said with adamant sobriety.The case happened on the morning of January 3. The night before, a neighbor from below rang violently to our apartment. His rage was more than clear: in his corridor on the ceiling, a puddle was drawn, from which a rare rain soon went. Wow New Year’s gift! The plumber that he had covered from the house management came only the next day (which is also clear: the holiday!). The leak was not discovered immediately. The specialist was about to leave when it occurred to me to look “inon there, below and to the left”. In a white ray of a flashlight from the darkness, a drop of water flashed insidiously. Pipes were changed by the previous owner of the apartment. Who knows how much they had to serve? Resolved, put new! I was full of enthusiasm – until I heard what to do for this.
“Well, and the tile, of course, will have to be removed,” the plumber finished me, tapping me with an indifferent hand along my snow -white tiles. Repair was completed a year ago. I just paid off debts. Now everything was preparing to go ashes. But when I was ready to say “do what you want, if only it didn’t flow”, it turned out that in any case, nothing could be done before January 9th. Cause? All the same: holidays! So we were doomed to renew the enmity with the poor neighbor who presented us with a fair, but impossible requirement – to stop using water. But at the same time, we suddenly received extra time for thinking.
Two months before the episode described above, I entered the hospital. What exactly, I will not tell – for my story, it does not matter in itself the diagnosis, but the fact that it was not the only. Only a few days have passed after a small operation I did, when I was called to the office by the
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factory. A whole consultation gathered there. Having surrounded me with a tight circle, good doctors with sad eyes recommended that I immediately do another operation, more. In case of refusal, they promised terrible consequences. I trembled, but I decided to think about free, outside the hospital walls. Having written out, I went around several doctors. Two agreed with a diagnosis, but considered that surgical treatment was too radical, and offered therapy – two different therapeutic methods. Two more made a different diagnosis, that is, two more different diagnoses. And I managed to go a couple of times to the ultrasound. And it turned out that there, in the black and white decorations of my flickering insides, different viewers see completely different performances. What was a Shakespearean tragedy alone, from the point of view of the other, pulled the maximum on a household drama. As a result, I turned out to be a bunch of tests on my hands, three diagnoses and an inconspicuous number of versions of further development of events.
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