When, a few days later, I was discharged did not seem real. After exactly one month I could finally leave this place of suffering and death.
That morning, the ambulance arrived, which should have been transported to the rehabilitation center, all gathered to salute him for a few minutes doctors and nurses who had learned to know so well, sometimes in fear, but above all to respect, they stopped and embraced me. I thanked them one by one. There were those who had pointed out as the black man, a nurse, a little grumpy that I had a holy terror and that, in lucubrations gained in the long hours of boredom, I was labeled as unprofessional as well as rude. I was able to convince me to the point that I anguish that I once confided to the doctor and she promised me that he would speak.
From that day he came over to my bed.
Apart from the fact that it was actually a little gruff, there was actually a real reason to be afraid of, was, as the certainty of becoming a drug addict, one of many fixed my mind, empty of other concerns , had given birth.
I could never find the courage to apologize for thinking so ill of him, but hugged him harder than the other, while I was leaving.
The doctor, while the stretcher to take me away, I whispered to the phone number of the department. Call and let us know how it goes, "he said.
And I was so excited to leave this place that I stopped even for a second to think about what I expected.
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