RUNNING ERRANDS

As part of the RetinaDar charitable campaign carried out by the RetinaFond and Alcon in partnership with the Spectrum ophthalmological clinic, the patient underwent surgery (stage 1) for post-traumatic funnel-shaped retinal detachment.

Surgeon – O.V. Unguryanov

Another story that “people are born for people”

This nervous, fast-paced story with a happy ending is full of coincidences and odd chances, but in fact it is strictly logical. All its participants think so, with the exception of the main character. He is nineteen years old, and he came to Moscow for work from a remote Tajik village. He is a little shocked by what is happening. He understands Russian, but he doesn’t speak. However, everyone is important here. In a chain that almost broke. The story begins this way: a young woman named Olga, daughter of the Moscow writer Pyotr Vladimirovich Stanev, goes to buy groceries, and when she returns, she says: “Dad, something happened to the eyes of a Tajik boy!” It takes place at a dacha near Moscow, where the writer is working on a new book. And on the territory of their dacha and garden cooperative, young Tajiks are working, running errands: helping someone around the house, opening the gate for cars and all that little things. At the gate is their booth. The daughter walked past the booth, accidentally looked and saw the fear on the guy’s face. Now she and her father were running back to him. And then all they did was run and hurry. It was this July.

Recounted by Pyotr Vladimirovich.

“We can’t help you here”

– We showed him to three doctors in the Moscow region and even began to swear with them. Because the first two said: just give him these droplets. And the third doctor saw metal shavings in his eye. And they sit idly with their arms dangling, they don’t want to think about anything. Finally they said: “We can’t do anything here, go to Moscow.” And they said it only on the third day, when I called them myself! Olya and I picked up the guy and took him to the city hospital. There, at first, he was treated with injections, but on the third day they made him an operation. A week later he came out, saw both the light and the objects. And then, I don’t know what happened: everything in his eye turned black. A guy works in my garden, he knows Russian. I took him to the doctors as an interpreter. Then he comes, and I ask: how is the friend of ours, what’s with his eye, is it okay? “No, it’s bad.” Again we grab him, into the car, we “fly” to Moscow, to the hospital, to the doctor who performed the operation. “We can’t help you with this,” he says, but gives the address of a private clinic – the Spectrum medical center, and names a doctor. Oleg Vladimirovich Unguryanov. With this information, we went. It turned out that this doctor directed us correctly. It is very important to pass the person down the chain. I myself am a disabled person of the first group. I went through it.

“It went dark in my eyes”

– We came running. Oleg Vladimirovich looked and said: difficult situation, but not hopeless. I’ll try. When the cost of the operation was calculated, my eyes went dark. A huge amount. I wouldn’t have afforded it. And the guy’s parents are poor folk somewhere in the village. And I realized that the guy would lose his eye and another disabled person would be born in front of my eyes. And time is running out. Oleg Vladimirovich says: the eye can dry out, this is an irreversible process. What could I do? Turn around and walk away. I had no one to pass the guy to further. Finally, I asked them to print their results of the eye examination for me. And what I felt was beyond description. The head physician Tatyana Lvovna told the girls to print it out, and when they did it, she suddenly thought about something and took me into the office. And there she says: you know, we’ll have Americans here soon … an American ophthalmology company.

Americans, or Everyone Has a God Who Watches Him

– And she named the company, but I forgot it right away. They, she says, are likely to be able to help you. Unguryanov will operate, and they will pay. Let me invite you in August. For us, Tatyana Lvovna, I tell her, there is no other choice but to wait. And a hope flashed in my heart. We began to wait, and on the fourth or fifth, they call us. “On Monday – consultation, on Tuesday – surgery.” Then they moved it to Wednesday. And here it is, Wednesday, the operation is at four in the afternoon. We are waiting. I know this guy has a god watching over him. He left his home to earn money for the family, although, as I know, they would not let him go. And who would let his son go three or four thousand kilometers away from home? But he still left. The God didn’t like it. And he gave him such a torment for admonition. But he also arranged for us to see each other. And he also brought the Americans so that Unguryanov could operate on the guy. And I told him today, when we were driving here for the operation, I spoke through my interpreter: “God doesn’t want you to work here, he wants you to go home and study. But first you will be cured here. And then choose the right path in life, that is, learn.” He is a naturally good guy, he lives by the laws. Here we are on our way walking, I’m going to cross the street, and he pulls me by the sleeve: “Uncle, you can’t, you need a crosswalk.” They call me uncle.

Who are we really?

– Tell us a little about yourself. Who are you, where are you from. – I am Pyotr Vladimirovich Stanev. My father is Bulgarian, Gagauz, and my mother is from Saratov. They met at a Komsomol construction site. I worked for more than forty years at Mosenergo, and in my youth I spent six years in the Far North, getting there on a Komsomol ticket as a commander of detachment from the city of Moscow. That is, I survived in the Norths. Who passed through this environment, will never become a bad person. The factories that we now see in Yamal, we started them. First, a construction settlement was built. Wooden larch piles were dug out of the ice. They are very heavy. You dig it, drag it to the camp – and it goes dark in your eyes. Olga, my daughter, devoted much time to this matter, she did not allow me to travel alone. But she could not do it all the time, she has children. And I am a free pensioner. And I repay my debt. Maybe one young man will return to normal life. Our Mahmadsharif. Although people live with one eye, he is better off with both. He is young.

Here this story – no, it does not end, but pauses right at the door of the operating room. But before that Mahmadsharif takes his phone and reads the prepared record from it: “Thank you, Doctor Oleg Vladimirovich. I’m very… very lucky. Thanks to the chief physician Tatyana Lvovna”.

Interviewed by: Nina Chugunova

Photo by: Evgeny Stetsko