Vika in hospital

Vika had an emergency hospitalization.
Her ovary ruptured.
I have many questions toward the doctors, since Vika was just recently on a scheduled stay and was evaluated by specialists, including gynecologists, who have her “all clear.”
Now all’s well again, and only because Sveta, Vika’s mom, called emergency services.
Thank God.
Given Vika’s range of ailments, combined with the blindness, it’s not good news.


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Our Bellflower

I was recently asked “How’s our Bellflower?” The “Bellflower” is the name we gave Vika several years ago in reaction to her infectious laughter. May will see the fourth anniversary of us helping this girl from Lugansk.
We met in May ’15. Shortly after her brother’s death, who also had diabetes. It’s been a lifetime since the. During that “lifetime” we have done a lot, but at the same time very little.
We tried to save her eyesight, but couldn’t.
But we did cure her of TB. We did a lot, but also lost a lot, together with Vika.
It’s difficult to write every subsequent Vika post. Because ever time I’m being read by new people, while Vika’s story is a whole big book. A story of one girl, a beautiful girl suffering from diabetes, who lost everything, first and foremost eyesight, due to the war…
Vika’s story is indicative in many ways. One has to understand that the war kills and crushes the most vulnerable. Not only with shells. Sometimes with far more elementary means–wrong insulin, lack of test strips, poor nutrition…
To read more about Vika, click on the “Vika” tag at the bottom of this post.
And yes, it’s also a story about people who care, people who are responsive, people who love. Vika has received help from all over the world–UK, Germany, USA, etc.
So, how is our Bellflower doing?


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Seryozha and Vika

Information noise is driving me nuts. Approval ratings, Zelenskiy, Timoshenko. As soon as you start reading the newsfeed you want to stop forever. But here is something addictive in this senseless staring at the screen.
I lost the thread of the present. Senses are coming and going, leaving me in a confused state. All these news in my feed are mixed with posts about people dying at the border, another shelling, and more civilian deaths on the Donbass. Schizophrenia
But let me instead tell you about our Seryozha and Vika.
Seryozha is doing fine. One day at a time, no changes.
After the summer heart attack, we’re glad to be able to say “no changes”.
The retirement home is warm but boring. We try to think up something, but it’s not working.
People need to live at home, after all.


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Various News

We have news.
I tried to find the right words for this, but couldn’t think anything other than “various”.
Various news.
Tanya is leaving. Tanya, whom we have been helping for several years. Cancer, fourth stage.
The young son is still in an orphanage, the mother can’t do anything anymore. Endless operations, chemos, more chemos.
Now she’s home.
She has more pain, fever has been constant for a while, she’s more frequently unconscious. Our friends managed to obtain an effective painkiller for cancer patients. They make her sleep all the time. She only has days left. Perhaps hours.
A priest was summoned recently.
And we also found a caregiver for her.
It’s our blind Vika’s mom, Sveta.
Sveta spent many years caring for her mother. When we met in the spring of ’15 in Lugansk, in addition to the dead son, ill and blind Vika, she was taking care of her bed-ridden mother. Vika’s grandmother and Sveta’s mom died when the two were in the TB clinic in Moscow. Now Sveta helps us with Tanya.
That’s how things are.

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Viktoria

Many people have written me not go to the Donbass over the next month, due to the expected “offensive”.
I’m not referring to my mom, her default opinion is that the situation is always escalating, particularly when I’m getting ready to go. That’s understandable. Indeed, many sources report that things will get “hot”. Like in Debaltsevo. Like in ’14. But they’ve predicted this so many times, it’s hard to believe it. If you do believe, it’s nothing to get excited about because you’ve gotten used to it.
But I’m actually not going to the Donbass next month. That’s how things turned out, and not because of these predictions. Zhenya hasn’t fixed the car, there’s lots of work at school, everything had to be pushed back and the trip got canceled. My mom exhaled in relief.
But I’m sad. I don’t even know why exactly, but I’m sad I’m not there right now.
I’m said because I miss it.
I miss Seryozha, Lena and Zhenya, our Lev Kuznechik from Pervomaysk.
I miss Vika.
The beautiful girl whom we’ve been helping since the spring of 2015. Who’s been through TB, diabetes, blindness, loss of brother.
You can read more about her by clicking on the “Vika” tag at the bottom of this post.
Friends, thank you for helping her and other people in our care!

Medications for Vika

Thanks to everyone who, in spite of the holidays, vacations, and personal affairs, continue to send money.
Separate thanks to Denis from Australia, who is an important reason why we are able to continue helping Vika.

Thanks to everyone! And I hope very much to be able to see Vika in person soon.
She’s doing more or less well. Not better, but also not worse.
.

If you want to join the aid effort for the people of the Donbass, please write me in person through LiveJournal, facebookV Kontakte, or email: littlehirosima@gmail.com. Paypal address: littlehirosima@gmail.com.

Please label contributions for Vika “Vika”.

Our Vika

We’ve been helping Vika for over three years now. We’re helping her and her mom. They live in Lugansk, LPR.
She has diabetes and lost her eyesight. Had TB. Lost a brother, also a diabetic.
That’s the short version.
Why did she lose her eyesight?
Sometime ago I wrote a post about how my nephew asked about her and her eyesight, why she lost it, I curtly replied “war”.
It’s probably the most accurate answer and it’s hard to add anything to it. Even though my posts about Vika are visited by the “all-knowing” who tell me the war had nothing to do with it, it’s Vika own fault and her mom’s too. That they inject insulin improperly, monitor blood sugar improperly, etc. I even stopped getting angry reading these comments. Although initially I would try, with shaking hands, explain how difficult it was to get insulin in LPR in ’14 and ’15. Explain what it’s like to live with no money and ability to buy even test strips. When you are alone, without a husband, with a bedridden mother, and your son is dying. When there is bombing, when you are sitting in a cellar. But I stopped.
You read a post about Vika about once a month on this blog. We’ve been through a lot in these three years. If you want to know more, click on the “Vika” tag at the bottom of this post.

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Viktoria–it means victory

My book about the Donbass was written during the 2015-16 winter. At that time we were busy taking Vika from Lugansk to Moscow to try to save her sight.
Vika was taken in by one of the best opthalmological wards in Moscow. The hospital at FMBA.
While Zhenya and I were driving around Moscow, Vika was smiling from ear to ear and listened to our descriptions of what we saw. We drove through the center, and Our Bellflower kept listening to the street noise. It was her first time in Moscow so she wanted to know every detail.

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“i will see”

Oh, and Vika wrote. A simple, laconic note.
But when you know it’s written by someone who can no longer see, you smile from ear to ear:
“good dayevdokia today mom read article .tell feodora and aleksandr thati will see i believe inn miracles and they should believe dreams come true . in the bible it says that we recive according to our faith .how are you is daughter ready for school convay greetings to all and give a big big hug to daughter .sorry for errors kisses for everyone”
Vika’s mom Sveta sent the most recent photos of the lovely girl.
I can’t believe it. I simply can’t believe it. I showed it to friends who know Vika’s story well and they were all surprised. And I nearly cried. Because I will never forget our first meeting. I won’t forget what the war did to this girl. Illness. Brother’s death. When I saw the thin, worn out girl who couldn’t even stand up, who didn’t want to live.


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“I see”

–Mom, can Vika be cured?
–No.
–But technology changes. Maybe they’ll find a cure?
–Perhaps.
–Absolutely, I’ll grow up, and Vika will see. I’m sure of it, no doubt about it. Right, mom?
I’m writing a post about our girl. Kids are running around and occasionally look at the computer. And on the screen Vika is laughing in sunglasses. Daughter knows Vika well and tells Sasha:
–That’s Vika. She can’t see. She gave me a bracelet, she made it herself.
The boy started to think.
–Dunya, why can’t she see?
I started to think too. The answer to this question is so complex, and the boy wants simple words so that it would become clear immediately.
–She has diabetes.
That is true. But there is something I didn’t say.
–You go blind from that?
–It can happen, but nowadays people can live with diabetes for a long time if they take proper medications.
–She didn’t?
–You know, Sasha, Vika went blind because of the war?
–She is from the Donbass?
–Yes, Sasha, she’s from the Donbass. She lives there.
Я задумалась. За вопросом стоит такой сложный ответ, а ребенок ведь хочет какие-то простые слова, чтобы сразу всё стало ясно.
– У нее диабет.
Кажется так, да. Но что-то не сказала.
– От него слепнут?
– Такое может случится, но сейчас с диабетом люди могут жить долго, если принимать правильно лекарство.
– Она не принимала?
– Понимаешь Саша, Вика ослепла из-за войны.
– Она из Донбасса?
– Да, Саша. Она с Донбасса. Она там живет.
–I see.


Yes, our Vika is from Donbass, from Lugansk. We’ve been trying to help her for three years. Three years of fighting for her life. But we weren’t able to save her sight. And the diabetes is incurable. Vika lost two front teeth, she has many health problems, but dammit, the girl is alive.

She had TB and it was cured. The pressure within her eye jumps so much that she screams, but Vika takes eyedrops every day and now she laughs. She’s had several hypoglycemic comas but she now goes to the store on her own.
She has a computer for the blind and even a glucose meter which speaks the glucose levels out loud, and which we all provided her with.
You know, I don’t know whether to be happy about what I’m writing. Because I wanted to write something positive but the kids knocked me off that path.
They asked so many questions that I immersed myself again in these three years of struggle. You can read these posts, and there are many, by clicking on the “Vika” tag at the end of this post.


Vika is doing well, as you see. But her life still consists of constant visits to the doctor. Every six months she has to go to the hospital and undergo a course of treatment. We try to buy her everything needed. Sveta, her mom, doesn’t always tell us about family problems. I recently found out by accident they have big problems with water. In the winter they simply do without. Everything freezes, so the pipes rotted out. They have to be replaced but that costs money. There is water only during the warm part of the year. Sveta was embarrassed to tell me about it.
That’s how things are.
But overall, Vika is on the upswing, and that’s the main thing.
She’s mastering the computer, goes out, and laughs.

Thank you, everyone, for your caring, aid, responsiveness!
Vika would not be here if it weren’t for you. Those aren’t empty words. That’s the truth.
Thank you!!!

Medications.

If you want to join the aid effort for the people of the Donbass, please write me in person through LiveJournal, facebookV Kontakte, or email: littlehirosima@gmail.com. Paypal address: littlehirosima@gmail.com.

Please label contributions for Vika “Vika”.

Not for nought

When I graduated from college, I went to work for a PR agency. , I remember myself swimming in a pool, after a month of endless press releases, press clippings, and press kits, and thinking–what’s the point? What’s the outcome? The answer upset me. It’s possible I poorly chose the way to apply myself and had I chosen something other than PR I’d have found myself. But it was what it was.
Back then, under a thick layer of chlorinated water, I thought about how much I wanted to go somewhere as a volunteer, so that my efforts would be useful and lead me to believe I do not live for nought. Volunteer at an orphanage, a retirement home, a hospice. Of course, I had no idea what these places were like, and that in reality helping there is an unbelievably difficult endeavor. Although perhaps I realized what the reality was like, because I did not advance beyond thinking about it. Even today I can say I’m not quite up to it. But by paths unknown, without even wishing it, I became a leader (is there a more correct way of stating it?) of a tiny unofficial welfare fund for aiding the people of the Donbass. There are many of us and the main people in this process are our Lugansk Zhenya and Lena. It’s also my many helpers and friends here, in Moscow, other cities, and other countries. I don’t fully know the scale of work we’ve done. I only see what’s happening today and write about it. We got ourselves into various situations, sometimes got experienced disappointment, bitterness. A lot happened–some of that you’ve read about and experienced with us. But there are several people whom we help on a permanent basis, people who have become flags, markers.

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