The day of L.I. Brezhnev’s death, the launch of Columbia, and Tolya’s illness. I woke up around 5 in the morning. I wanted to get up early and record the Far East on the video recorder. I look — Tolya isn’t in bed. I peek into the work compartment, and he’s curled up sitting on the treadmill. I ask: “What’s wrong? What’s the matter?” He says: “Something’s off, I think I ate something bad. Pain in my left side.” An hour passes; I can see the man is suffering. I took the medical kit and gave him Biseptol, then activated charcoal, and also gave him Allochol. We’re passing over Soviet territory. I say: “Tolya, I have no right to keep silent. Let’s get on the comm link and report.” He agreed. We’re passing along the Far East coast; no communication session is scheduled for this orbit. I call: “This is Elbrus-2, respond.” The duty officer at the ground tracking station in Ussuriysk answers. I ask him to establish communications with Mission Control. Viktor comes on. I ask him to get a doctor. About ten minutes later, the shift doctor Valera arrives. I explained everything, and we left the coverage zone.

Well, after that, things gradually started to unfold. On the next session, around 8 AM, another conversation with Valera. At the end he gives me a recommendation — give an atropine injection.

Well then, for the first time in my life I gave someone an injection, aboard the station. I took a syringe-tube from the medical kit, removed the cap, and say: “Tolya, present your backside, I’m going to inject.” He asks: “Valya, just be careful, please.” I took aim, first pinching half the needle between my fingers so it wouldn’t go in all the way, and stuck it in. Tolya said he didn’t even feel it. An hour later he felt better. By the next session, a medical commission had assembled, and they were deciding whether to bring us down or not. It was a crazy situation. Nine years of preparation for the flight, half a year of flying — and to land a week before the record. And on top of that, Ryumin comes on the comm link and says: “Guys, all search-and-rescue assets are ready for landing, so we’re prepared to bring you down tomorrow.” What a way to cheer us up! I hear Academician O.G. Gazenko on the line, addressing me jokingly: “Professor Lebedev?” I reply: “I’m listening, colleague.” “Please palpate the patient.” In short, I was the first to render medical assistance to a comrade in space. After lunch, Mission Control asked us to prepare for descent, just in case.

We performed a partial station conservation. By midday, Tolya was feeling better. I say: “Tolya, what are we going to do? If we say the word, it means landing. Decide. There won’t be another chance to reach this summit.” He says: “I feel pretty decent right now.” “Well then, onward.” We can always land later. By evening, everything had calmed down.

In the evening, Ryumin comes on and says: “At 19:16, the American shuttle Columbia will pass beneath you at a distance of 80 km.” We were in shadow at the time. We looked but never spotted it.