`He is too young to die ... and you too, doctor'.

I check my patients daily, talk with them and their parents. I am gentle, warm and sometimes confidential, always professional and objective. My rehabilitation department is a kind of limbo where patients are cured and healed by expert professionals, and they are supposed to be respectful, grateful and polite. But when I enter that particular room I feel a kind of strange dizziness. I know what it is: fear and hate for the people I am going to talk to, who scare me to death with their lawless manners.

"Another coma patient in my department", I had mumbled to myself when I visited him the first time, "dirty routine". The boy had shot himself in the head but had not …