Ditto Thursday 19 October … in the beginning anyway.
I retraced my steps to ‘The Old Building, Floor 3’. Valeriy had already told me that he would likely be in another city and that Oleksandr and Ruslana would accompany me to Nova Poshta. I pressed the entry buzzer to the Microsurgery Ward and entered; Valeriy was speeding down the corridor, obviously behind schedule. He grabbed me by the arm ‘apparata, super-good’; a happy fella.
Ihor later told me that Valeriy had phoned him last night saying he never believed that someone would keep their word in the way we have; from our first meeting in June to the reality of yesterday; to provide support to these dedicated professionals means the world to them. So often, their pleas for help fall on deaf ears.
On the way to the ward, I stopped to buy some flowers for Lada and some chocolate for Kseniia. As I arrived at the ward, they were also walking in the corridor. You can’t begin to imagine the pain they must have endured; yet, both with smiles from ear to ear.
In the event, Oleksandr was also busy; so it was Ruslana and me; she offered the choice of walking or public bus to Nova Poshta. We walked; we walked in; the same staff; some merriment; the package appeared; I paid; we walked out; job done. Now it was raining but we walked back to Okhmatdyt, a little soggy. We bid ‘au revoir’ … until the next time.
Ihor had already told me that he would finish work at lunchtime today so, yesterday, we had said our farewells after some extraordinary times; as I was leaving the hospital Ihor messaged to say if I was still there to wait 45 minutes and he would give me a lift back to Osokorky. He appeared, looking grey; he had started work at 07:00 hrs yesterday morning; he finished work at 16:00 hrs this afternoon; a shift of 33 hours; not a one-off; not a monthly occurrence; often a weekly occurrence. A day in the life of a surgeon in war torn Ukraine.
We headed home through the Kyiv Friday night rush hour; slow progress with security checks at various point.
Tonight, Dmitry and Oleg had invited Vasilj and Natasha for dinner; next door but two neighbours. I first met Vasilj and Natasha a year ago on the first day of my first visit to Kyiv; Natasha christened me ‘The Man from Great Britain’; whenever I return, there’s a chorus of ‘The Man from Great Britain is in the street’; really, they welcome the connection with someone from afar.
I was in Kyiv in January; it was Orthodox New Year, Saturday 14 January 2023. Vasilj and Natasha had been invited to join us; during dinner, Natasha reminded Vasilj that it was her fiftieth in June; and also that, for an eternity, he had promised to marry her; sensing the occasion, I suggested to Vasilj there was an opportunity; that he could strike a cut price deal; two for one. And, the plan was hatched for a double celebration in June; I was, of course, invited to attend.
I returned to Kyiv in April, the rumour being to check that Vasilj had not reneged. The grand occasion in June was truly wonderful; a traditional private reception in a local restaurant; amazing food, overflowing; and a Mistress of Ceremony who engaged every guest (today’s picture, a wedding scene). It is tradition that everyone gives a short speech; every guest firstly paid tribute to the extraordinary fortitude of the Ukrainian military and paying respect to those who had fallen.
My phone pinged; a train ticket had been secured for me for my preferred Sunday night train; there was, of course, a mark-up; after all, this is Ukraine.
Late in the evening, Misha, a friend of Dmitry’s joined us.
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