How many epics like this, full of heroes and martyrs, sleep anonymously in the dusty old Divan del Olvido … Marujita not ?… If Migue!, … God said while smiling. When Oct. 15 opened my eyes, do not know if it was night or day, know where I stood, the anesthetic amnesia prevented me from remembering what had happened, there was also struggling to come out of hypnosis and reality check there, too … was given the fight.
In the supine position, exorcising my fears, nurses circulating around, cleaned dressings, administering medications, accounted for the drips, they controlled the vital signs monitors with metal rings and placed the monotonous music of the Post-operative rang in the distance … bells, the UCI Medical Dr. Montenegro revised again and again the clinical history, then went over, greeted me and told me I will examine, shook my head, my lungs sounded, took my pulse, felt my abdomen … We have to get an X-ray Chest!, continued with the pipe, my breathing was shallow, not well-saturated … Breathe!, Breathe! – they said I had no pain, it was a little cold, not thinking about food … but if ye had enough I wanted ice …
they knew it, apparently all transplants have this thirst, this hunger of ice. An X-ray technician, came to UCI’s Box where he was, covered the rolling stock, dressed to the technician and entered the box … Hi – I said I’m going to get a plate of lungs, I sat down, I stripped the top coat, put a plate on my back.