Nearly all those years Getmanets has been working at the same post of chief doctor in a village hospital. He has personally contributed to the Soviet Peace found over. I now longer remember what melody doctor was playing on the piano as he and i sat in his home on evening? i do however remember his hands - they were not the hands of a musican, not even those of a doctor. They were the strong hands of a ploughman. The deep wrinkles on his face relaxed as he played with gusto. My eyes were drawn to those wonderful hands which had done so much for so many people. Legends are told about the village hospital, and the man who brought it into life has become a legend too. He is to this day still called fantastic, by some with admiration and by others wih reproach. He has held the same job for half a century, ignoring the most profitable offers. There were invitations to research institutes, o clinics in Kiev, and to the Ukraine's Ministry of Health. Yet he clung to his little hosp
ital in the village of Dobryanka he built with the help of the villagers in 1930. This devotion stems from the pledge made by young Feodosy Getmanets, a graduate from the Odessa Medical School, to work as a doctor in one and the same village to the end of his days. He has always combined the dedication of a doctor with a high sense of civic duty. As i listened to the docor playing on the piano i recalled the sing-song local speech of one of his patients, Maria Lysenko, from he distant village of Osichki, as she old me her story. It was in early spring , the woman said. I remember as if it were yesterday that the ice had already broken on the Sinyukha river. I lifted something heavy, and premature would take far too long. My husband ran to the chairman of the local rural council, and they rang up Dr. Getmanets. He grasped the situation at once, and shouted into the receiver that he would reach the village on a tractor. By the time he appeared in the hall, covered in mud a
nd wet from head to foot, i was already convinced i was going to die. i was in terrible pain, but i remember thinking: My goodness, what's the matter with him? He'll fall ill himself! But he pulled me through and didn't even go down with a cold. Maria adjusted the kerchief on her head, took it off altogether, then put it on again. She was evidently deeply moved, recalling the incident.
ital in the village of Dobryanka he built with the help of the villagers in 1930. This devotion stems from the pledge made by young Feodosy Getmanets, a graduate from the Odessa Medical School, to work as a doctor in one and the same village to the end of his days. He has always combined the dedication of a doctor with a high sense of civic duty. As i listened to the docor playing on the piano i recalled the sing-song local speech of one of his patients, Maria Lysenko, from he distant village of Osichki, as she old me her story. It was in early spring , the woman said. I remember as if it were yesterday that the ice had already broken on the Sinyukha river. I lifted something heavy, and premature would take far too long. My husband ran to the chairman of the local rural council, and they rang up Dr. Getmanets. He grasped the situation at once, and shouted into the receiver that he would reach the village on a tractor. By the time he appeared in the hall, covered in mud a
nd wet from head to foot, i was already convinced i was going to die. i was in terrible pain, but i remember thinking: My goodness, what's the matter with him? He'll fall ill himself! But he pulled me through and didn't even go down with a cold. Maria adjusted the kerchief on her head, took it off altogether, then put it on again. She was evidently deeply moved, recalling the incident.