Miles upon miles of snow-covered fields stretched out in front of us with checkpoints punctuating the way, the road becoming sparser as we drew closer to the frontline. Our mobile medical units (MMUs) range from 30 to 120km from Zaporizhzhia.
Here, among the frosted farms and abandoned settlements, you find resolute villagers – determined to stay or not able to leave due to age or financial situations. UK-Med is the last remaining medical INGO that services these remote areas with mobile units and home visits, alternating villages on a roughly bi-weekly schedule.
One such clinic is in Dobropillya, a small village touching distance from Huliaipole which has recently been the target of aerial bombardment. A thud was audible in the near distance. Tatiana, 62, is the village representative who helped UK-Med set up the clinic and facilitates home visits among the residents. Currently, 355 people live here including 85 internally displaced people (IDPs) for whom this was a safer option than their nearby homes. “It is what it is” shrugs Tatiana, she had the chance to leave again last week and chose to stay, “my heart is here”. The water supply to this village was cut off at the start of the war so it’s driven in and distributed; electricity has been reinstated lately after two years and eight months off-grid.
It’s bitterly cold as we head to another village, the closest still inhabited in the area. Residents live in perpetual fear and do not want the location to be named. Svetlana, 79, has been with her husband for 57 years – most of which were spent in the same house. Their children and grandchildren have left for safer parts of Ukraine, but they remain. Her fortnightly check-in with a UK-Med psychologist is a lifeline – she struggles to sleep, sitting at the window waiting for the day shelling will reach this settlement.
More artillery fire can be heard, it sounds much closer. Waiting patients seem nonplussed – “this one is Ukrainian”, they say, now able to differentiate between incoming and outgoing projectiles.
Our mobile medical units (MMUs) mainly see a range of non-communicable diseases (NCDs) from hypertension to diabetes. Without this support, many would not have access to the medication needed to treat their conditions, making an already unimaginable existence markedly worse, and potentially life-threatening.
“Thank you, thank you so much for coming – we are so grateful you haven’t forgotten us. We will keep fighting” weeps Svetlana defiantly, as she exits the building.
But it’s not only elderly patients that are reliant on UK-Med. Olena, 31, has a young daughter, Anastiasiia, with a heart defect. It’s manageable but requires routine appointments and electrocardiogram (ECG) scans. She describes the disbelief of her parents when the war began; hoping their daughter, and indeed granddaughter, would not have a similar experience as their younger years. The ongoing toll of conflict is felt keenly by all but the impact on 5-year-old Anastasiia is already visible.
“She was two when the invasion started, they took her childhood (…) she knows nothing different” explains Olena, “she panics at loud noises, shakes all the time and cries”. On one occasion when Olena and family had to shelter due to an air alert, Anastasiia leapt straight through the hole into the basement, such was the fear that overcame her upon hearing the siren.
UK-Med has three mobile units in this region, each comprises of a doctor, nurse, psychologist, social worker and driver. They visit 20 different locations in Zaporizhzhia Oblast, 75% of which is under occupation, with control of territory fluid and changeable. For this reason, the locations have three levels of risk; medium, high, and very high where personal protective equipment including body armour must be worn as standard.
Emergency support for hospitals
Back in the city and stories of civilians caught up in conflict continue. Ruslan, who worked as a jeweler before his injury, is still unable to walk. His left leg is held aloft by several metal pins after being shelled in early January while walking down the pavement in the middle of town. He still doesn’t know whether the leg can be saved but shares his love of fishing, wishing one day he will be back on the riverbank, spreading his arms to demonstrate the size of his biggest catch yet.
NHS nurse, Nyarai Makona, is on deployment with UK-Med for ten weeks and has reached the midway point. She describes the injuries she witnesses in surgery; shins like jigsaws that must be carefully pieced back together. Sometimes this is not possible.
“It’s a husband or someone’s son. So it touches me so much, thinking what can we do? So by fixing the bone I feel as if we can give him a bit of life…” explains Nyarai.
Based in Carlisle, she recalls the typical injuries witnessed at home, ranging from tripping over pavements to falling off ladders. But her time here is welcomed by the Ukrainian staff in the hospital who have taken her in like family and speak effusively about the expert support she has provided the team.
What’s next for Ukraine?
It would be remiss to make any predictions for the future but what’s clear is the scale of need. The grief is palpable, and everyone has a story. Civilians are caught in the crosshairs and there is no reprieve. Each night, drones and missiles fly overhead, forcing residents back into shelters – sometimes multiple times across a 10-hour period – such is the terrorization and humanitarian support so desperately required.
While the world thinks this is a critical juncture in the ongoing conflict, Ukrainian’s see things more clearly: “We want peace, we never did anything to deserve this. You can’t live without love.”
Since April 2022, UK-Med has provided 30,825 primary healthcare consultations, 16,728 mental health and psychosocial support consultations provided, trained 23,429 health and community workers trained (including local police and firefighters), and conducted 749 life and limb-saving surgeries.
