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«Мій син страждає від гастриту, а його харчують фастфудом: це нестерпно спостерігати»

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Мене звуть Людмила Степанівна. Моєму синові Андрію минуло 28 років. Півроку тому він одружився з дівчиною на ім’я Оксана. Вона розумна, гарна, з добрим вихованням. Зараз закічнює шостий курс медінституту, буде лікарем. І начебто все має бути гаразд, але я не можу знайти спокою: серце моє тривожиться. Бо я бачу — вона не доглядає мого сина так, як треба.

Андрій з дитинства страждає на хронічний гастрит. Спадкове, від батькиного боку. Це не просто «шлунок боляє», як багато хто вчє сьогодні. Це хвороба, яка під час загострення робить життя справжнім пеклом. Навесні та восени йому особливо важко: печія, біль, блювання, безсоння. Я знаю, що він переживає, бо сама годувала його роками. Поки жив зі мною, я слідкувала за його харчуванням: дієта, нічого смаженого, шкідливого, їжа за розкладом — кашки, варене м’ясо, супи, киселі. Я не просто годувала — я берегла його.

Перед весіллям я попередила Оксану:
— У Андрія слабкий шлунок. Треба обережно, особливо на межсезоння. Будь ласка, годуй його правильно.
Вона усміхнулась і обіцяла, що все буде під контролем. Я повірила.

Але через місяць зайшла до них у гості й остовпіла. На кухні брудний посуд, у холодильнику — лише кетчуп, пиво та засохлий батон. У смітті — коробки від піци та пакети зі шкідливою їжею. А на плиті — пусто. Я запитала:

— А де Андрій?

— На роботі, скоро буде, — спокійно відповіла Оксана.

— Він хочаб сьогодні їв?

— Та начебто щось… зранку…

У мені все стигло. Я знала, чим це закінчиться. І не помилялась. Через три місяці — лікарня. Гостре загострення. Краплі, дієта, біль. Я майже постійно була поруч, поки він лежав. А Оксана приходила — на годину, максимум дві, потім казала, що їй треба «готуватись до іспитів». Мені стало страшно.

Після виписки я принесла їм курча. Справжнього, свіжого, купленого на ринку. Попросила зварити легкий бульйон. Вона кивнула. Минув тиждень. Я заглянула у морозилку — курча лежало, як було, недоторкане. Навіть не розморожене. Не кажу вже бульйон.

Я запропонувала допомогу:

— Оксано, давай я приготую. Розумію, ти зайнята, навчання, іспити…

— Не треба! — різко відповіла вона. — Я сама впораюсь.

Та бачу, що вона не впорається. І мені боляч…Врешті-решт, я зібрала волю в кулак і сказала: «Оксано, або ти зміниш ставлення до здоров’я мого сина, або я візьму це в свої руки».

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