Asthma complicated patient

My persistence has come into fruition! I wrote a letter to the first secretary of the city party committee and he invited me to his reception. After a short conversation, he said that my question would be resolved positively even despite the fact that the chief physician said: "We have not had a psychotherapist for a hundred years and we will do without it for another fifty years!" And so the rate of a psychotherapist was "knocked out," but no one was going to allocate a normal office for psychotherapy. The chief physician offered an abandoned  room in a terrible state and said that if I put it in order, it would be my office and no one else would work there. In the city, I already enjoyed authority among the patients, and when I threw a cry for help, many came to help in the repair, some took out building materials, others would paint, some more of them helped  in the repair work directly.

About two months later, a decent psychotherapy room was created, after which the chief physician informed me that, in addition to me, a neuropathologist would also be admitted there. And then I remembered how once he stopped me and asked about how the construction work was going. I tried to assert my right to this cabinet, but everything was useless.
Nevertheless, the office was created and I worked in much better conditions, but of course not with the same mood, every day I had this neuropathologist, but that's not all, I was blamed for having a queue for treatment for up to two years and periodically made checks how I work. Of course, I was outraged that they did not check the doctorswho were to be addressed for treatment and their offices were empty during the appointment. Thus, the situation was not very favourable for me, but I had to work and I worked.

During this difficult period for me, a  young patient at the age of 22  came from Bashkiria from the city of Salavat Yulaev, accompanied by his mother. He was a very difficult patient. The story of his arrival is as follows: this young man was the only one with his mother. The eldest son died of suicide as a result of unrequited love. The youngest son has been down with severe bronchial asthma for many years and was in the second group of disability for this disease. His mother took him to Moscow for a consultation at some institute of pulmonology, as she explained to me no higher and important medical institution exissted in Soviet Union.  In this institution, she was told in plain text: "Your son has no slimmest chance, you can go home, we cannot help you."

A desperate woman wrote an article to the newspaper: "Rural Life" in which she begged that if anyone knew where they could cure her son, they would inform her about it. One of my former patients living in the city of Ochakov accidentally read the newspaper and since he was a responsive person and had been looking for me for a long time, he wrote a letter in which he said that there was such a doctor and gave my address.
I could not imagine that the patient could reach out for me in such a serious condition. My mother said that on the way (they were traveling by train) she had had to call an ambulance twice to relieve asthma attacks.

When I examined him, I was a little scared, not sure if I could help him. But there was nothing to do. People have made 1.5 thousand kilometers and it was necessary to do everything possible to save a person.
At first, the treatment went well, asthma attacks became less frequent and weaker (it should be noted that at that time, and this was May, there were constant rains, which is extremely unfavorable for asthmatics). The young man was still on hormones in addition to everything (he took two prednisolone tablets). Having achieved good results, I suggested that the patient gradually reduce the doses of prednisolone. The patient, feeling well, decided that it was possible to reduce hormones much faster and, as a result, there was a sharp deterioration in well-being (attacks became severe and frequent again).

Now attacks occurred not only during the day, but at night several times a day. I conducted sessions in the morning, at lunch and in the evening, and at night on the phone. And this despite the fact that in addition to this patient, I received 50-70 patients a day.
I had to invite a cardiologist for a consultation. After examining the patient, the head of the cardiology department said that I was in vain to take up the treatment of this patient. he was at a high risk group, so he explained this by the fact that in addition to asthma, the patient had circulatory failure in the small circle and pulmonary edema. Given the patient's serious condition, I asked my colleague to hospitalize the patient for at least three days so that in the event of a night attack, the nurse could give the appropriate injection of the medicine on time, but I was refused. When asked why he did not want to take the patient, he replied that he did not need excess mortality in the department.

And so me and my patient were left in a desperate situation, besides this, my patient decided that he was actually dying, and informed his mother about it. My mother tearfully informed me of this. When the patient came to the next session, I told him that if he was going to die, he confused the offices and that his place in the office of the pathologist, but if he was still going to live, then I was ready to help him, but on one condition that he would forget about death and even more so stop talking about it. The patient decided to live, but this desire alone was not enough.

One day, the patient developed a severe asthma attack, which I could not relieve with anything, all my efforts were unsuccessful, I was extremely desperate, I could not allow the patient to die. And at that moment, an insight suddenly came. I told the nurse to put glucose in the intravenous syringe. The patient asked if he was given intravenous euphylline, to which he answered positively and that he helped him well in relieving seizures. Then I told him that now the nurse would give him euphylline and everything would be fine, that the attack would definitely stop. At the time of glucose administration, I talked with the patient all the time and said how he would feel during the injection, I described how the medicine would work and how well he would breathe.

Gradually, the fear of death began to go away and after a while the patient breathed easily and completely. After that moment, a turning point in treatment occurred. The patient reacted well to all the sessions, after a while the attacks stopped and I managed to completely remove the patient from the hormones. The entire course of treatment consisted of 40 sessions. Those were unforgettable days filled with strong nervous tension, anxiety for the patient.

It seems to me that this patient took at least 10 years of my life from me. I can't stand the second such patient. And the most unpleasant thing was that the patient not only got rid of asthma, but, as expected, began to drink, just like all real men (his mother later wrote to me about this.).