Neuromed Невропатолог Винница (2025)

One afternoon, six weeks later, Halyna was struggling with a stubborn jar of pickled tomatoes. Without thinking, Leonid reached over, his right hand steady as a rock, and twisted the lid off.

Halyna stared. Leonid stared at his own hand. neuromed невропатолог винница

His wife, Halyna, had finally had enough. "You are not fading away in this chair," she announced, holding up his worn coat. "We are going to Neuromed." One afternoon, six weeks later, Halyna was struggling

Dr. Sokolova didn't argue. She simply placed a small, cold tuning fork on his wrist, then on his kneecap. She shone a penlight into his eyes, watching his pupils dilate like blooming poppies. Then came the strange part. She made him walk heel-to-toe along a line on the floor, then close his eyes and touch his nose. Leonid stared at his own hand

"See this? It's not a tumor. It's not a stroke. It's a tiny vascular whisper. A micro-hemorrhage that has healed badly. Your brain is sending signals, but the wires are frayed."