Whenever there is a heated argument whether things were better during the USSR times, this statement invariably pops up as a mighty ace: At least they had free medical care in the Soviet Union! This is supposed to bring the opponent to the knees and make them beg mercy and forgiveness for betraying the Great October achievements.
Well well well. Let’s have a close look at what really was free then.
My iPad has really got me reading recently. On iBooks almost all of classic literature is free, so I am reading a book by Arthur Conan Doyle — The Adventures of Sherlock Holmes: The Man with the Twisted Lip. There was a passage that struck me as remarkable (or, as Conan Doyle would put it, rather singular):
One night — it was in June 1889 — there came a ring to my bell. … We heard the door open, a few hurried words, and then quick steps upon the linoleum. Our door flew open, and a lady, clad in some dark-coloured stuff, with a black veil, entered the room.
The Soviet movie illustration of this book. 1979. Vasily Livanov as Sherlock Holmes and Vitaly Solomin as Dr Watson.
Really. In June 1881, just like that, Sherlock had linoleum, which was nothing extraordinary at the time — given he was presumed to somewhat struggle financially, and thus his need to share a flat. In the USSR — and this is the point I am making now — linoleum was one of the highest sought-after products until at least early 1980. I wouldn’t believe it myself, but I remember how excited my Mum was when in 199o we managed to “secure” some of this precious material to floor the kitchen in our apartment.
What was the price of those space exploration programmes if linoleum was a scarce commodity at least for a century after it became widespread in the rotten, capitalistic West? You feel my pain?
Remember our post about Slava Kurilov, the guy who jumped off the cruise ship near the Philippines islands — and swam to freedom for three consecutive days, completely alone at sea? Our today’s post tells a story just as remarkable — a young Russian surgeon Leonid Rogozov, stranded in Antarctica with the Sixth Soviet Antarctic Expedition, in 1961 performs a self-operation: under local anesthesia, surrounded by a bunch of guys whose only experience with medicine was sitting in a dentist’s chair, the 27th years old doctor removes his own appendix.
1953 was the last year of long and terrifying governing of Stalin. In January the huge country although accustomed to repressions shuddered from the new horror – this time the enemies-saboteurs were Kremlin doctors of a Jewish origin. The commenced persecution also applied to ordinary doctors. Soviet people who believed to the politically edited stories broadcast in the media were scared to be patients of Jewish doctors. On March, 5 of 1953 Stalin passed away and the case of Kremlin doctors was dismissed. Humiliated, maimed doctors were released. However this was only the beginning of the political repressions of the Jewish specialists and today we would like to introduce you to a striking example — the story of my family.