It will only be mine! Part1. In hospital. Story

It will only be mine!
 
 Part 1. In hospital. Story.
 
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Push. My eyes are still closed, but my mind is awake. I hear sounds: a long low howl from somewhere on the right... and then a sob from the left, a croaking cough of a cold crow in front, a thin whine behind, rolling roulades of powerful snoring, iridescent whistle with hiccups, plaintive lamentations, howls, sighs, ahs, oohs, trumpet clearing of the throat, etc., etc. from all sides!
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; God, where am I?!
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; it hurts me to move, to breathe, to move my hands. The legs ... seem to be intact. Head ... cast iron, eyes ... distinguish the gray spot of the window... white, it seems, the ceiling... Oh! A flash of light!& nbsp; Yellow circles, spots... a Loud female voice imperiously says something... Remembered! I'm in the hospital, in the trauma Department in a ten-person ward.
      and here I am no longer lying down, but walking, as my legs fortunately did not suffer. My mobility is very pleasing to me and brings some benefit to those around me, those who are chained to the bed sometimes in the truest sense of the word: many of the legs are attached to a bulky structure, or from some part of the body protrude metal pins... and although I can not lift something heavy and my hand movements are limited, What I do willingly and diligently, even if not always successfully, hiding fear, confusion and pain, so amazes me what I saw.
      & nbsp;a Thin old woman of about eighty is moaning softly on the bed by the door. Her bare leg was blue from the cold, but it was already purple! Poor girl, we must close it as soon as possible! I lean over Granny…
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; - Drink... - barely moves her dry lips.
      & nbsp;I pour her a Cup of water from the bottle on the nightstand, serve. She swallows greedily and hard. Wearily, she leans her head back on the pillow.
 But when I reach for the edge of the blanket to cover her ridiculously protruding leg, she shakes her head and whispers:
    & nbsp; - Don't…
 I nbsp;  & nbsp; I nod confusedly and slowly walk away, puzzled. Suddenly I'm overwhelmed by a wave of understanding – Yes, she has gangrene! Oh!
    & nbsp; someone's insistent call does not immediately break into consciousness. A plump woman asks me to bring her water from a tank in the hallway, because she has run out of water in the bottle. Another woman asks for a boat. NDA, this is more difficult, it is difficult for me to bend down and move my hands, broken ribs and chest hurt. Well, nothing, somehow cope. I put the boat on the stand, turn around, and…
    & nbsp; many burning eyes stare at me – she did not refuse! It can help you! The ship!!!
      & nbsp;Who did not lie in a helpless state, will not understand all the fuss of bedridden sufferers. Nurses... where are you, ow?! They're on a schedule. Even those who are paid or put chocolates in their pockets are not in a hurry to perform their duties. And I - here it is, near, WALKING!!!
      & nbsp; And I walk conscientiously. Wear. Bring. Taking out the trash. I walk around the room, sometimes two or three times, and finally lie down. They give me painkillers, which numb the pain but don't completely relieve it.
 In addition, some individuals, noticing my reliability, begin to brazen, unceremoniously, imperiously demand something when I lay down to rest.
 & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; & nbsp; Hey, wait a minute, I'm SICK too, and I'm actually in this hospital, not working, even part-time! And I don't need your candy, but you're not in a hurry to fill me up with them, especially those who like to command…
    & nbsp; I resolutely close my eyes. Sleep. No. Suffer. My chest hurts. From the corner I hear the grumbling of two impudent aunts, who have sung their dissatisfaction with my refusal of the honorary title of slave. The terrible stench from the crowded ship just loudly relieved great need gluttonous aunt nearby, does not add optimism. Why does a woman in such a difficult situation eat so much? Knows in fact that the toilet can not be reached! Wasn't she disgusted? I'd rather starve to death! No, it's probably too early for me to die, I'd like to eat a little.
      & nbsp; How unlucky I am! Tears boil in my eyes. The slam of the door opening distracts from sad thoughts. A doctor enters the room. A young, tall, handsome surgeon. And of course it goes straight to the far wall, to the bed, which is surrounded on all sides by sheets in the form of a tent. Throws back the sheet, and goes inside.
      & nbsp; From the very first days, when I lay almost all the time, I was very interested in what lies behind the white walls. Then my head stopped spinning so much, and I began to walk, performing my missionary function, and, to be honest, slowly circling around the mysterious tent, hoping to get a glimpse inside. But to no avail.
    & nbsp; and three days later the doctor came and carried out of the tent a thin girl, almost a girl, and carried her somewhere outside the door. After a while, he brought her back. The doctor was walking very fast, but I still noticed that the girl was completely naked. You can not consider clothing bandages on the hands, shins and bandages on the stomach and head. From the girl's thigh protruded in all directions some pins.
       curiosity is not a sin. The entire chamber was intrigued. Fortunately, the girl soon got better, and she wanted to communicate with the people, asked for a drink, and after a while told us her story.
      & nbsp;Thin as a reed, very pretty, naive, poorly educated fifteen-year-old girl from a not very prosperous family.& nbsp; Lived with a constantly busy mother and older sister.
      & nbsp; And was in love. A twenty-three-year-old boy.
 
 It will only be mine!
 Part 2. The Girl's Story. Poem
 See continuation.