“A multitude of sad stories begin in a hospital ward. Gray buildings, gloomy corridors, the smell of chlorine and medicines, sad faces—everything plunges you into gloom and hardly helps recovery. As it happens, I’ve rarely been in ordinary hospitals. And today my path led to a private clinic. Behind me are doubts, quarrels with my parents, my friends’ misunderstandings, and a year of total saving. The services of the city’s best plastic surgeon weren’t cheap…”