Studying outside, physical and mental fatigue, it is inevitable that one day I will get up or have a bump on my cheek, or my legs are red and swollen. The author's bedroom is like a pigsty, wonderful, and the upper bunk is too lazy to wash clothes. It is said that a pair of underwear was worn for two weeks. After the first week, it turned inside out in the second week, and finally he got scabies. Because he stepped on my bed all day, I was not spared. At night, the whole bed creaked and the pajamas were dripping with blood, but it recovered in a few days, which is why Buddhism was founded in India and developed in China.
The next day, I went to the school hospital to tuck me in. The school doctor already knew me very well, so he put his hand on my shoulder and asked me why I came here. When I said scabies, she took it back from my shoulder, saying that the school conditions were limited and it was impossible to make a diagnosis. It's best to go to a big hospital.
So I went to a big hospital. Although the big hospital is big, the windows at the registration office are like mouse holes, and one hand can barely reach in. I paid the registration fee and waited for a long time, but nothing happened inside. Carefully bent over, suddenly stretched out a white palm, itchy all over, scared half. After filling out the form, I put it in my hand and retracted it, and there was no movement inside. I spent half a day flying out to find some coins.
I took the medical record card to the dermatology department, but there were conference rooms all the way, from the first conference room to the N conference room. Too much tea in the meeting will inevitably lead to going to the toilet, so there is a toilet next to the meeting room. Looking for it for a long time, there is no dermatology department. So I asked a doctor, who was so cold that he didn't even look, pointing to an empty wall behind his ass: "There." He took a few steps and found that dermatology and surgery were together in conscience.
An old man undergoing surgery was reading a medical book and was about to say hello. A woman behind him stepped in front of me and handed me the medical record card. The old gentleman is poised and looks like an alcoholic. He touched the woman several times and asked, "What's the matter with you?" The woman was stunned by this question. I guess she must be scolding the doctor for talking nonsense, but she didn't come to the hospital when she knew what was going on. The woman said that her hand was bruised and festered. When she finished lifting her sleeves, the doctor indicated that it was unnecessary and immediately prescribed a prescription. The disease was diagnosed in less than 30 seconds, which is probably the most efficient place in the country. The school doctor is very experienced in this field and advised me not to look for such a careless doctor in advance. So, I changed a female doctor.
How do you know that the doctors in this hospital seem to have made a statement in advance, and the female doctor also asked me what happened. I told her I was itchy. The female doctor is more serious and wants me to point out the itchy place, but I was resting just now and I can't point out where it is at the moment. The doctor laughed at me for not being ill, which was hard for me to refute. Suddenly, the itch came unexpectedly. First, it floated up a little from my elbow. I dare not move, for fear of scaring off the itch. Then I scratched my finger a few times, and it really fooled me and became more and more rampant. I totally lured it out. I pointed to it and shouted, "This! Here! This! " The doctor looked at it and said, "Is this it?" This sentence was heard by latent itch, and I was very dissatisfied. I came out to prove it to the doctor. The doctor smiled and said, "Good! Good! " I'm very glad to hear that. My hands kept scratching on me, my back kept rubbing on the back of the chair, and my feet kept rubbing against each other.
After greeting, the doctor wrote it on the back of the medical record card. I have met two kinds of doctors: one is knowledgeable and can write for half a day. The content is nothing more than "the whole body suddenly itches ... the feet, head and abdomen itch everywhere ... when the patient itches, the symptoms are as follows ..." I once heard a doctor write very well, and the patient was asleep. There is also a doctor who cherishes words like gold and writes an "itch" on a big card. The female doctor I met today is different from the first two. After writing a paragraph, she became shy and had nothing to write about. Look at my colleagues. They are writing articles at their desks. The medical record card has been written in black, which is quite spectacular. At first glance, it represents authority and knowledge. Not to be outdone, the female doctor couldn't write a few words, and she was afraid that her embarrassment would be seen through by me, so she had to talk to me one day. She looked at the card and knew my name was "Han Han", but she didn't know how to pronounce Mandarin. She closed her eyes and read: "Yuan Han!" Sigmund Freud has a book "Psychopathology of EVndny Life", which says that deliberately mispronouncing a person's name is tantamount to an insult. I'm not sure if she mispronounced it on purpose, so I can't vent it, and I can't help but admit that I'm "cold in the garden".
After a while, she was like a pen flying, with words longer and without words longer. She finally put together a page and told me to get the medicine. I took the prescription and looked at it. I saw irregular dots and coils on it. But I studied for many years and pretended to be very knowledgeable, but I didn't understand a word. I once met an intern who just came out of college. The little girl who just became a doctor is proud, her handwriting is horizontal and vertical, and her pen is vigorous and powerful. She accidentally made a mistake and used an eraser, but the speed was too slow. It often takes half a day to write a word. If she was in an emergency, I'm afraid the patient would have died before the medical record was finished. There are fewer and fewer doctors who write so hard. I once read a short article saying that today's incomprehensible words are the so-called weeds, and the hospital is a place where experts from all over the world gather. A doctor may not be a physician all his life, but entering the hospital means that you are a calligrapher.
I didn't expect the toll booth to be illiterate, so an old doctor next to me asked what this word was. After asking, he said that the medicine was out of stock, fearing that he would go to the drugstore to buy it. I ran back to the female surgeon. She looked at me for a long time and asked, "What's the matter with you?" There is a passage in Father and Son: "The Governor invited Chanove and Bazarov to sit in the hall. A few minutes later, he invited them again, but regarded them as brothers and called them Chanove. " Who knows that the situation today is more serious? She didn't know anyone for a few seconds! When she saw that I finally recognized me for a long time, she was as excited as the reunion of mother and son, but she couldn't name me. In Turgenev's Smoke, Ratmirov forgot the name of Livinov, which is understandable. Russian names are like trains. They are too long to be unfamiliar, and it is unforgivable to forget my name.
When I walked out of the operating room, I heard a doctor in the internal medicine department scold the patient for being stupid. The patient said timidly, "Don't write' Please use it-thank you, goodbye, sorry' on the wall here ..."
I sighed and laughed at the patient's innocence. I didn't know these words were addressed to us, which meant that when I saw the doctor, I didn't forget to say to the doctor, "Thank you, goodbye, I'm sorry!