Кадр выше наш. Полное медиа с Facebook запрошено — подставим его сюда, как только приедет.
toikd.com
My older brother died nine days after knee surgery. He was 63. The surgeon came out into the corridor and said, “We did everything we could. It was a rare case.” One month later, I was supposed to lie on an operating table myself. Except they were going to operate on my back. If your back, knees or hips hurt, and you still believe doctors always know what they are doing, read this to the end. After what happened to our family, I no longer have the right to remain silent. My name is Patrick O’Donnell. I am 59 years old, and I run a small family brewery with a pub attached to it outside Killarney, County Kerry. I have been brewing beer for thirty-two years. The early brews before sunrise. The deliveries. The repairs. The cleaning. The long days in the brewhouse and the late nights behind the bar. I know every pipe, valve and tank better than I know the streets of Cork. I have worked through freezing rain, on wet concrete and beside boiling vessels where one wrong step can put a man on the floor. Sacks of malt. Heavy hoses. Pumps. Kegs. Hours bent over the mash tun. Nights beside the fermenters, listening to the tanks the way other people listen to a sick man breathing. My back had hurt for as long as I could remember. I paid no attention to it. When you work with your hands, you do not complain. You grit your teeth and finish what has to be done. Three years ago, everything collapsed in a single morning. I put my feet on the floor, but I could not stand up. Something closed around my lower back as though somebody had threaded a steel cable through my body and tightened it to the final notch with the winch in the delivery yard. My wife, Mary, came running when she heard me cry out. She put my arm around her shoulder, and we moved in tiny steps towards the kitchen. I was 56. A man who had spent his life lifting sacks, dragging hoses and rolling full kegs across wet floors. And now my wife had to help me cross my own house. One month later, the pain began trave
