Stories that you confided to us
On December 31, 2013, my husband and I learned that we were expecting a child. It was the most wonderful gift of the outgoing year! That winter in Kyiv, everything was just beginning, and none of us could imagine what it might turn into. And I was only thinking about my little kid that was growing under my heart.
We were preparing to become model parents, so I had a whole list of all the necessities and utilities that we were buying all over Ukraine all winter and spring. But we were not lucky enough to use even half of it.
In the early summer of 2014, the war came to us. It was real! With jet fighters flying over the city at four in the morning, with howitzers, grads, and God knows what else. Tanks were riding around the city alongside with ordinary cars.
A month later, after such restless days and nights, we realized that this would not end quickly, and in order not to endanger the upcoming birth, we decided to give up everything and leave the city.
We went all the way to Cherkasy. My husband was offered a job there, and thanks to friends, they offered to stay with them at first. I was almost nine months pregnant at the time.
The entire pregnancy, despite all the experiences, went perfectly, no complications, no inconvenience until the last ultrasound…
The results showed that we can't do without a caesarean section. (At one point, the baby just rolled over.) But, thank God, everything went well. So our first – born son Timur was born as the hero of Cherkasy.
At first, it was difficult, without help with a baby in our arms and even in a rented house in a strange city. But over time, we got used to it.
For three months we lived in Cherkasy, in the fall of the same year my husband was transferred to Severodonetsk, Luhansk region – and the three of us moved there. It seemed that we were used to everything, to the constant worry for relatives who remained in Luhansk, to the constant shelling on the demarcation line, which is 50 km away from us. But in December 2015, Timur's health worsened in a few days with symptoms that were not clear to us at the time – he was placed in intensive care by ambulance.
The next day, the diagnosis was put – it was diabetes. Of course, it was a blow to the heart for us. We had no idea about this disease, none of our relatives had this disease. I think that month was the worst for us. The child was just over a year old – and such a diagnosis.
Then treatment began, or as it is correctly called, insulin compensation. Numerous trips to Kharkiv for observation in the hospital, constant monitoring of blood glucose levels. We all had to rethink our lifestyle, focusing only on the child.
Five or six insulin injections a day and the same number of blood sugar tests. At that time, Timur still did not understand why his fingers were constantly aching, and even now he sometimes cries when it is not possible to make an injection painlessly. With such intensive treatment, you have to buy expensive consumables for glucose analysis, on average 50 pieces cost about 250 hryvnia, and they last for 10 days.
My husband and my parents live in Luhansk, they have not been able to leave their homes, so they survive as best they can. And it is very difficult for us, as migrants in rented housing, with such prices for everything, and even with such a diagnosis of our child. We received the test strips from the state once, and we were only able to use them for a month and a half, as the end of the use period was approaching.
A great help in our fight for the child's health was the Help of the Humanitarian Center established under the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation. Thanks to your work, we understand that there are still people who care about the grief of others.
When quoting a story, a reference to the source – the Museum of Civilian Voices of the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation – is mandatory, as follows:
The Museum of Civilian Voices of the Rinat Akhmetov Foundation https://civilvoicesmuseum.org/
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