“It was March 2, 2001. Wet snow was falling, and in the evening, a frost hit, and the roads were covered with an icy crust. I received a call saying that the first official donor was at the Institute of Neurosurgery. It was not difficult to obtain the relatives’ consent — their family had previously faced a donation issue (they were looking for a kidney), so they understood how difficult all this is. We also had a patient who needed a heart — a 35-year-old man.

Closer to one o’clock in the morning, we were able to take the heart from the donor. When I left the institute, I already had a container with 4 kg of ice and the cargo itself. I exited through the back door, behind me, they slammed the iron bolt shut, and I was left alone in the dark courtyard. The frost was about 10 degrees, and there I was, in surgical attire, slippers, and hoping that an ambulance I had arranged for in advance was waiting for me on the street. But it wasn’t there. In the end, I had to walk up the slippery street at night to catch a ride. By the time I got there, I had fallen several times, bruised my knees, trying my best not to damage the precious box. A few minutes later, a white ‘Zhiguli’ appeared. I stop it, jump into the front seat and say: ‘Let’s go quickly to the Shalimov Institute, I need to transplant a heart!’. He looked at me for a long time and said: ‘Get out’. I was nervous: ‘Hurry, there’s no time, I need to sew in the heart!’. He pulls out an iron rod: ‘Get out, or I’ll hit you on the head! I don’t drive schizophrenics at night!’.

I had to get out. I stood for another 10 minutes – I was completely frozen, turned all blue. At some point, I just cried like a child – from insult, from the cold, from the horror of the whole situation.

Finally, another car appeared. I jumped into the middle of the road, the car tried to stop, and it skidded. The driver, cursing and with a heavy object in his hands, got out and headed towards me. When he approached, I recognized him — he was my classmate. I barely persuaded him to give me a lift — he was in a hurry to get to the station. On the way, he asked, “Why do you have a box?” – “I’m transporting a heart” – “Oh, come on!”. I opened the box, took out the bag with the heart floating in it, and showed him. He said nothing — just stepped on the gas.