Years later I was again ambushed and I walked into operating theatres, I was subjected to hepatic biopsies, Radio ablation, ligation of esophageal Varices IV of Piquet and a liver transplant! and I know many physicians anesthesiologists, the most representative of this stage are Eusebio Palomino, Jorge Menacho, Soraya Oyanguren, doctors anesthesiologists of the transplant liver to which I was subjected, I still remember that morning when it looked like the end, Eusebio received me at the door of SOP with a smile, he put his hand on my shoulder and I was his friend, and that gave me enough confidence, up to now memory of Soraya you’ll put an alita and that is all the pain you feel: I promise and so it was, just a piling in the back of the right hand and this was all despite the fact that it was a liver transplant!, then Jorge told me I will give him a mask, breathe deep and slow, you will be sleeping slowly and so was, breathed deep and iba me slowly dying until I delved into unconsciousness looking clock SOP that marked the 3 and 20 in the morning on a 15 of October 2008 in the Hospital Guillermo Almenara is health, was an inhalation General anesthesia as I had dreamed it, as patients we dream it, rather than anesthesiologists seemed my brothers and sisters, my friends, rather than doctors seemed heralds descended from heaven. Hours later was in my bed in the ICU and on the door was a doctor dress green and covered with a white dust, staring me, who will be? – I said-, then approached, put his hand on my shoulder and asked me how are you?, well thank you! – I said-, but quien eres? I asked him, I’m Dr. Palomino your anesthesiologist, told me hugs and thanked him with all my soul Eusebio knows it, you must remember it. Anesthesiologists are the surgeries anonymous heroes, hidden behind the bow, masks and sunglasses, inhaling gases, sitting at the bedside, vigilant and alerts next to dying patients, are anonymous names that then patients nor recall, are invisible faces that then patients nor recognized, are spirits that family members ignore and when marching by the passage of the Hospital leaving her patient awake and pain free, do so many times in silence, charging in his emblematic Briefcase ampoules, anaesthetics, wings and probes, in the midst of the ingratitude of patients and relatives and sometimes even of the same surgeons. I pay this modest and lively tribute to the Anesthesiologists doctors of Peru, full of emotion and with the wounds still, in living flesh, these words are not literary, but the actual testimony of a patient whose dramatic existence and life has been fought and won in different theatres of the Peru, with the invaluable help of anesthesiologists, anonymous surgeries heroes, invisible faces, faces no name, to whom medicine, society and history them should a fair recognition by the invaluable role before, within and after the operating theatres.