Waking up in a hospital gown (no cap and tassel included) felt utterly puzzling, to say the least. The emergency room was full of easily recognizable medical devices, but I had no idea what on earth to do with them. Trying to remember how I ended up there proved equally futile, as I could only draw a blank. Little could I tell that I had narrowly escaped eternity a few days before – on St. Alexander’s Day exactly – as Alex K.’s CPR skills managed to restart a heat-exhausted soccer player’s heart.
Then, there was Dr. Alexander Drtil, who expertly stuffed some strange electronic gadget into my chest, to avoid, his argument was, a repeat performance by my heart in the future. And finally, there was Dr. K., Alex’s dad, who was trying to calm down the family with rational advice while I was put to sleep for days at freezing temperatures.
In the end, it all worked out miraculously well. By Design, perhaps. Or by extraordinarily good luck, who knows… Regarless, one cannot but relish one’s good fortune and send thanks «To Whom It May Concern».