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Dr Longbow

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    Afghanistan

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47 h Friendly in Cherno

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  1. My name is Hansel Longbau, but people call me Doc Longbow. I am a military veteran with multiple deployments to combat. But that was a different life. After my service I decided I wanted to settle down in a quiet place on the country side and find a new life. I decided I wanted to become a veterinary and after a few years I finished my schooling (#doubleVET). I opened a small practice in a rural town some hours away from Cherno. I really enjoyed working with animals and found a lot of satisfaction in my work. One night I when I was having a glass of scotch, I received an urgent call from the local farmer Mr Johnson: "Huns, Hanzi... Dammint Dr. Longbow! Come quick! It's Damian , I came home and he...he....he's not breathing! (Damian was of course his prized sheep herding Otter)." I sprinted to my car, a racing red 1979 Lada Riva, throwing my leather veterinary bag in the back seat as i fumbled with my keys. The drive felt like it took ages. It was only 4 miles from my house but it felt like an eternity. No sooner had I pulled into his long dirt driveway when my dim yellow headlights silhouetted the farmer and the lifeless animal in hands. I quickly grabbed my bag and took the animal from the farmer's trembling hands as we ran inside. "Quick, lay him on the table" The Otter was limp and i could tell didn't have much life left in him. I grabbed my tiny defibrillator from my bag and began wiring the electrical leads onto the fur of the small creature. "CLEAR!" I yelled as I pulsed him once, then twice. Nothing. I turned up the voltage. "CLEAR!" A third time. Still nothing. "Dammit, we're going to do this the old fashion way!" I yelled as I grabbed my scalpel. I made a neat incision starting below the animals neck. I opened the cut just enough to get my thumb and pointer in his chest. I felt his still heart and began to massage it. One, Two, Three, Four. Come on Little Guy, COME ON. DAMMIT DON'T YOU LEAVE US DAMIAN!!!! Then I felt it, a little murmur; building, then it began to pulse. He was back, his heart between my fingers. Thump. Thump. Thump. The farmers tears were still wet when he thanked me for my work. As he should my hand and came close to give me a hug, he reeled back and exclaimed "You... You smell like booze! Did you just conduct open heart surgery on my prized Damian DRUNK! With one swing he cracked me in the jaw. I felt a snap when things went dark. I woke up in the local hospital writhing in pain. The dotors told me my jaw was broken in 7 places and I would need to see a specialist 7 hours away in Chernarus if I ever wanted to eat solid food again. The next day I was transferred by ambulance to the hospital in Cherno. The jaw doctors let me know that I required immediate surgery to lockwire my jaw shut for it to heal properly. As the anesthesiologist counted down from 10 thought about how Damian was doing 9 and hoped wondered what would happen 8 to my practice if people 7 found out I worked on a patient 6 with alcohol in my system 5.... The world went black. I opened my eyes and was alone. The curtains were torn, hospital equipment was scattered across the floor. Broken glass and blood. Was it My Blood? No I was fine. I tried to yell out to the nurse, but nothing. I couldn't move my mouth. As I wandered out of the hospital I looked onto a very different world then when I entered.
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