Stories of Paraná - The cup olive oil

Stories of Paraná - The cup olive oil

The cup olive oil
Lauro Grein Son

Convinced and assumed a good leather doctor, backed by a course winner and a specialization in "Miguel Couto," Rio, excited and motivated by all the illusions that envaidecem the years of youth, Castro began the first steps of the journey.
Had no more than a week in the city, unaware that both me as I wanted to win it, when I received the call around eleven at night.
Came with the taxi, leaving the driver the task only lead me, knowing nothing about the patient, the case, the occurrence.
Only the name and address of the person, known and distinguished person in the square.
Arriving at the house, joined her firm and strong, has the truth, science and everything.
In the bedroom and a queen size bed, a boy of four years whimpered his pain to the audience of seven adults and three minors. And the Syrians proverbial solidarity in health woes. Not missing, because relatives and friends, a whole clan, world joined together in the same concern, united in regret, suffered the same sorrow.
My presence, the kid crying increased in pitch and intensity.
They explained to me then that had fallen from the table and hurt his arm.
After some effort I could finally calm him down, putting him docile and friend in my hands. Careful examination did not reveal the specific signs, no evidence of fracture or dislocation.
I tried, therefore, to allay the environment, explaining the mercy of a single injury, not serious and unimportant, trivial thing, spontaneous recovery within hours. The confirm my words, the boy, now redone physician and fright, rehearsing some smiles to the audience at this point tranquilized.
Readied myself momentarily to exit, right mission closed and well met, when a voice boomed authoritative by the four corners of the room: - "But then, doctor,
Mr. will not do anything? "was a fat lady, elderly and readily, maternal grandmother of the boy.
- Madam, as I
said ...
- Look, doctor, this is good for rubbing hot oil.
Let the children respond.
- And as I aturdia in surprise and indecision, devoted creature went resolutely to the kitchen, bringing there, quick and triumphant an obnoxious cup olive oil warm.
For me not alter the inconvenience and rudeness, plunged boldly fingers in ointments-to repulsive enlambuzar passing him the boy's arm.
The scene lasted about five minutes, the minimum necessary for contentment and approval of all general house.
Expensive price in exchange image preserved, sympathy conquered, grasped the lesson.
I washed my hands to get rid of fat uncomfortable hearing the grateful father appealed the sentence that would accompany me apart from works: "For now thank you after we fixed." Kindly was saying goodbye, one by one, glimpsing the clarity of the evidence faces that left the field safely.
The enlightened lady deserved a comfortable hug, that kiss did not occur haphazardly in the past.
Appearances, resguardei them as it should. The truth, however, is that in that house and that night, left arm innocent kid that dark part of my illusions, as much of my pride of my convictions and a piece of myself.
Many, many times since, along the inland clinic, the experience would lead me to better living with such ways, admitting them in the name of a culture authentically ours, created and packaged in the world of our grandparents simpleton.
But the first confrontation was too unforgiving for me to forget it easily.

Lauro Grein Son, and president of the Medical Center of Arts of Paraná


Source: Stories of Paraná, Brasil.