“We had our own front”: one doctor and 400 lives saved during the occupation

By Diana Butsko

Since the beginning of the hostilities, most of the doctors left Izium. For 10,000 residents of the occupied city, there are only two dozen medics left. They dared to work under the barrels of Russian machine guns. Overcoming the fear for their lives in the destroyed city, they had to look for food, water, and medicine. Despite everything, they continued to rescue the wounded and sick.

Yurii Kuznietsov, a traumatologist of the Izium department of emergency medical care, did not have to choose — to stay or evacuate. On March 6, during the massive shelling, he was on duty, and the next day no one came to replace him. So he was the only doctor in the hospital. And he could not leave Izium. On the other side of the Siverskyi Donets, which divides the city, was his family - a bedridden mother and a brother with the first group disabilities.

At that time, there were 72 patients and employees in the hospital. Everyone went down to the basement. They organized an improvised operating room there. Kuznietsov did not know then that his round-the-clock duty would stretch for four and a half months — and he would live at work until mid-July.

Yurii Kuznietsov, a traumatologist at the Izium department of emergency medical care
Photo: Diana Butsko / hromadske

“Mommy, are they going to kill us?”

Olena Riabenka, a paramedic at the Izium department of emergency medical care, lived on the other side of the river, just like Kuznietsov's family members. Bridges were destroyed at the beginning of March, her family was cut off from the city. Russians bombed so hard that she thought: there was no one alive on that side of the river. She was very scared for her four children.

“Mommy, are they going to kill us?” they asked. Olena held on so as not to cry and frighten the children even more. Only in the evening, when everyone was asleep, did she allow herself to cry.

In addition to the bombs, Olena was terrified of hunger. All her life, her husband and she built a house for a large family and had no savings. They received Ukrainian wages on the cards even during the occupation, but it was impossible to withdraw cash. Grocery stores stopped working. Elena was happy that every year she planted 20 buckets of potatoes, had her own onions, beets, carrots, and preserved salads. She clearly understood: her family would live as long as there was enough food in the cellar. In the worst times, Olena imagined how all the food would run out and the children would die of hunger in her arms.

Olena was wrong. On the opposite side of Izium, her colleagues tried to resume work. There were three of them left at the ambulance service. After her shift on March 7, nurse Tetiana Myznikova told the head of the ambulance service, Serhii Botsman, that she would go home because she could no longer bear the shelling. Russian aviation leveled the city with the ground. However, she returned the next day.

Botsman himself wanted to leave the city. But he stayed. Now he explains: “When you visited a sick or injured person between shelling, you understood that it depends only on you. So all this was going somewhere. If we left, there would be no one to help.”

Meanwhile, The Russians established their power and began to purge. They also went to the hospital: searched the premises, and looked for something suspicious among the medicines. Doctors were ordered to take off their uniforms with chevrons with the coat of arms of Ukraine. “No, we work near Kharkiv,” was the reply.

Every time they went out on a call, they were checked at each checkpoint — their car, documents, and pockets were examined. In the hospital itself, traumatologist Kuznietsov did not discuss sensitive topics with the Russians. Especially after his colleague, a forensic medical expert, was shot because he argued with the occupier.

Olena Riabenka, a paramedic at the Izium department of emergency medical care
Photo: Diana Butsko / hromadske

Izium was bombed, and doctors went to work

Serhii Botsman, a senior paramedic of the ambulance service, walked around the city and asked his colleagues who had not left to return to work. Izium was mercilessly bombed then.

They went around the houses. They went down to the basements, where people were hiding from the shelling, and asked who needed help. Due to hypothermia, many people fell ill with pneumonia. Then they collected the wounded after the shelling. And when Izium was cleared a little after the March battles, the drivers of the ambulance service repaired their cars and a month later went out on calls. At least 25-30 people were treated per day, says Botsman. There were so many patients that he no longer remembers whom he helped — people now approach him on the street and thank him.

When the bridge was restored a month later, Botsman came to paramedic Olena Riabenka and said: “Go to work, my dear”. Olena kissed him and burst into tears of happiness. It was a miracle for her — she did not think that any of her colleagues survived. However, she was afraid to go to work — there were rumors in the city that people were being shot on the pedestrian bridge.

The ambulance service had to work in the city without connection. When patients asked how to get in touch with them, the nurses jokingly replied: “Ring the bell.” The phone did not work, so people walked, came on bicycles, and asked for help. They left notes with the addresses of the sick or wounded at checkpoints. They tried to catch the ambulance car.

Serhii Botsman (on the left) with medics of the Izium department of emergency medical care
Photo: Diana Butsko / hromadske

Medicines were found in a garbage dump

When Izium was in the gray zone, marauders started robbing pharmacies - they took essential medicines and threw away the rest. Once, passing by a garbage can, nurse Tetшana Myznikova saw the medicine they needed - that's how they replenished their supplies.

Botsman's team transported high-risk patients to the basement of the surviving hospital, where Yurii Kuznietsov and several colleagues set up an operating room. The Russians built a military hospital in a nearby building and brought their doctors there. Here, in the basement, Kuznietsov operated only on civilians.

“We had our own front - to provide assistance to the population that remained here,” says the doctor.

And they did it around the clock. He could perform surgery on one couch, while a nurse put the patient on a drip on another one. If you ask any of the medics now what was the most difficult thing during the occupation, they will all say that it’s not having time. But still, they managed a lot. During the occupation, Kuznietsov and his colleagues operated on 400 patients and actually saved their lives.

However, it happened that people died in front of their eyes. In one basement, says nurse Myznikova, they found an unconscious woman. During the inspection, it turned out that the balcony had collapsed on her. The son of the wounded woman cried and asked to save his mother. The doctors understood that there was no chance, but they still put the woman on a gurney and took her to the hospital under fire across the city.

“It's very scary when you see that you can't do anything... and you can't pull it out. As for the children...” - Tetiana Yuriivna makes a long pause and holds back tears with her last strength. “War is tasteless, as my grandmother once said.”