Чернобыль. Страницы жизни и любви

The priests said: you have to tell him the truth. You can’t force this sin upon yourself. One of Sergei’s friends came to see us.

“He really ought to know,” she said.

“But how can I find the words?”

“You must! He must fight, knowing what we are up against.”

Sergei’s condition got worse. There were fits and a really awful night – then he showed for the first time how broken and tormented he was. Night pains, night, then remaining alone with his illness, I sensed for the first time the breath of death.

It slowly touched us. It did not sneak up, rather it inexorably moved towards us.

Regardless of fright or fear, I had no right to give in. I entered the fray, and there was no way back. But how should I fight. How could one turn the world back? I had a feeling of devastation, but in my head one question constantly rang: what is the right thing to do? My soul was crushed with pangs for which there are no medicine can help. Rigid with fear, seizing all my energy, sighing with pain and helplessness, I tried to find the right decision.

“I will embrace you as tightly as I can.”

“I won’t let anybody have you.”

“Embrace me, hold on to me. We are together and no one can separate us.”

Our strength is only in ourselves, and this cold, deathly touch, which causes such pain, cannot alter our love. The embrace of two loving people is a power, which can change us into a single, indivisible whole – a monolith of Love.

A new attack began. I took fright and phoned the doctor.

“I have to tell him that he had cancer but it was removed and now everything is okay. The main thing is to fight.”

The doctor approved and said that a man should know the truth. I telephoned his mother.

“Mother, darling, I must tell you the truth: Sergei has cancer…I didn’t say anything before. I thought that we would manage. Mother, I beg you, hold on!”

I remember this conversation with pain. I cried and so did she. It was our misfortune, our common grief. The misfortune of two women: mother and daughter.

I asked her what I should say to him.

“Don’t tell him or he will do something to himself.”

“Mother, I will tell him half the truth, that the cancer was removed and now it’s all behind us.”

“Do what you’ve got to do.”

Thank you, my dear, for trusting and supporting me. I telephoned Sergei’s friends. They said that they would be round in the evening.

I tried to prepare myself for the conversation. I had to find the words, so that he would want to live, so that he believed that the bad things were behind him. He saw my tear‑stained eyes and he started to entertain thoughts, which disturbed me, which I did not like. I had to change his mind, shake him out of it, force him to fight, but I wasn’t strong enough… I went into the room. He lay on the divan in the half‑light; just a small light was on. I sat on the sofa, took him in my arms and squeezed myself to his chest.

“Sergei, I need to talk to you.”

“What’s happened? You are scaring me.”

“Sergei, I need to tell you the truth…When you see me tearful or frustrated, it’s not because I am tired of you, no, it isn’t that. On the contrary, I love you more than ever before…You had a malign tumor, they managed to get it out in time…everything is okay, but now you have to help me to fight and it will be very difficult. Believe me, I knew everything from the very beginning and stuck with you all the same. It has been terrible for me, perhaps even harder than it has been for you. You have to help me, you can’t let me down now. I have struggled for you and I am still struggling for you. You know that you’re cured and that I am beside you always; gather your strength now! Life is beginning afresh…”

He held me close to him and I cried.

“Silly girl, what are you crying for? Everything’s okay now, isn’t it?”

I saw his eyes, and he understood everything. He looked at me with different eyes; now everything fitted into place. He stroked my head and repeated.

“That’s enough, that’s enough, my beloved.”

He held himself together, although everything was raging inside. He was in pain, but looking at me he knew that I was in even greater pain. He understood that life went on, that he would struggle, because he had me and his children. And we were together.

Our close friends were also by our side. They came round and that evening we sat around a table with them. But I saw only him, understanding how hard it was for him. Within him a struggle was taking place – a personal struggle known only to himself. He joked, entertained us all, but inside he held back a completely different feeling. He went within himself and began to get depressed. He held himself together, but I felt that he was somewhere else. I chatted with him and we got back to the subject of his illness. Then we felt slightly better, because all our reservations were gone.

He believed in me and told everyone, “She knows everything, she’ll get me through it.”

We got ready for our son’s birthday and waited for the guests. In the morning of October 9, Sergei himself cut his son’s hair. I started to get in the party mood: joy – that was the thing that was the least possible in the given situation, but it was all the same unavoidable. Sergei must have seen how loved he was. I really wanted the party to be a success. I wanted him to feel good, to see his friends gather in his house.

One by one, the guests arrived, our doctor among them. It was a mixed company of about thirty people, but it seemed like it wasn’t the first time we were all together.

He drank a little, his nerves were stretched to the limit. A relative from Moscow phoned and he went into the far room and talked to her for a long time. I went in to see him and there were tears in his eyes. He finished his conversation. We sat in silence and cried…When we got back to the guests, they fell silent. He really enjoyed the first birthday of our son, he was happy.

The decisions were being made by themselves. Back in the hospital the idea had come to me of going to Sergei’s home. I prepared him for this. I said that we hadn’t relaxed that summer, and that it wouldn’t be bad to have a holiday, but I did it carefully. In addition, a lot of business appeared, filling in forms to do with the fact that he had been one of the decontamination team after the Chernobyl accident.

In our country, in order to prove something, sometimes we have to do a mountain of paperwork. There was a lot to do: the registration of invalidity, the pension, housing questions. But it was all necessary for Sergei to want to live and feel useful in this life. These matters were very important to him: he remained a man, capable of contributing to the provision of his family.

The medicine stopped working, so we had to try a different one. Anything, just not drugs. The time came to change from tablets to injections: they acted more quickly and didn’t upset his stomach so much. How difficult it was to give him those injections, how my hands shook and my heart stopped. But I took myself in hand, because I knew that it helped him, that it was a relief for my beloved and darling man. We had blood analyses and they gave us hope. I spent several sleepless nights, tensely thinking what I could do to help him. And every morning I did what I had planned. I had to keep myself together and not wander from the chosen path.

Our love cried out from pain. But he believed in me. He believed and wanted to live, to live with me and our children. God, how much love and softness there was in his eyes, but his hands spoke more than any words.

Before the journey, we decided to get a blood transfusion for Sergei. We had the same blood type. I really wanted my blood to flow in his veins. Our kind doctor came to meet us. I believed that it would help.

It was Saturday. We got to the hospital early in the morning. I was given sweet tea to drink and taken to the operating room while they put Sergei on a drip.

Two nurses began to fuss around me. My veins turned out to be very bad and the blood just wouldn’t come. First they put the needle in my left arm, but without any result. Then they tried the right – also nothing. I began to worry. Surely part of me had to be in him and struggle with this illness. Another nurse came and immediately found a vein in the left arm. Blood flowed! I was happy, because he needed this blood so much!

The doctor really suffered on our behalf, but Sergei was worried about me. My arms were bandaged and they helped me to the house surgery… Everything went well.

When we got home, Sergei helped me to take off my sweater:

“Good God. Sweetheart, darling, what’s happened to you?”

He was stricken, shocked. He kissed me. I felt so much warmth in his touches, in his words and his voice.

I was overjoyed that everything had been successful, that my blood might help him just a little, that he would feel better and, above all, that he would know that, whatever happened, I was beside him.

It was time for the holiday, and we got ready for the journey. I was firmly convinced that we had to go, no matter what. Happily, Sergei’s friends helped us to solve the problem, mainly financially.

We would go to the doctor later, but now, we would go home: his native air, his mother, his home and it would all help. We went as a family: son and daughter, dog and us two. He was driving. But he was getting worse and worse. We decided to go through Moscow, stopping for the night with Sergei’s aunt. In Moscow, Sergei had a terrible fit.

“Natasha, do something, I’m in pain.”

I was in total confusion, but what could I do to ease his suffering? We went walking around at three in the morning, but it was difficult for him, both lying down and walking. There was no reprieve – only a pain which was strong, unendurable and all‑encompassing. I talked to him I kissed him and held his hand.

“Let’s go, let’s go home. Let’s try to wash out your insides. Drink water and try to get it out of you.”

Once we had done what we could, he went to sleep. But I prayed to God to help him. I was happy that Sergei had fallen asleep, and I was afraid to move and guarded his sleep. He found sleep so difficult…

In the morning we were on the road again, and he was driving. What I felt on that journey is a treasured memory to me. I rejoiced, looking at him. What a wonderful husband I had, how nice it was with the whole family in the car, like being in a little house. And traveling. I wanted to shout and cry from happiness, when the children were sleeping on the back seat and the dog was sitting proudly in front. It was my family and I felt I was the happiest of women.

We stopped to refuel and decided to have a bite to eat…What a nice feeling to be a woman traveling with her beloved husband and children. And this little break gives you the chance to nurse him. Everything is to hand: sandwiches, soup, and it is all wonderfully delicious. He feels wonderful because you are next to him, and you sense this. I loved feeding him when we didn’t stop for a break; I liked this especially for some reason. Maybe there was an element of rapture in this, to be together with your beloved man and get pleasure from everything that brings you together.

We drove quickly. Sergei didn’t notice the traffic cops who were trying to stop us. Their bus stood on the other side of the road. They pulled us over at a checkpoint. Sergei took his documents and got out of the car but ran back moments later.

“Natasha, come on, they that I have not only broken a law, but that I have disobeyed the traffic police. They say that a fine won’t settle it, something about a violation. I told them that you are my lawyer. Tell them everything.”

I saw how he trusted me. There was no sense in going there, I knew it, but he believed that I would sort out the situation. I went. They spoke to me rudely and it was impossible to prove anything. The man who was in charge was stubborn. One of the officers walked off, and I went after him.

“Listen, stop all this…You have to understand, he has IV stage cancer and we don’t know how long he has left, he’s just had an operation. I’m taking him to his mother and his friends. He doesn’t know. Help us, give us a fine and let us go. I beg you, don’t make him nervous.”

He asked me to go to the car:

“I understand.”

In a short time Sergei came back:

“Hey, everything is okay, they gave me my documents and destroyed the report. You know, the main thing is that everything is okay, and, well, you know, it’s only money. Anyway, we expected expenses on the road.”

And everything was all right again, and we were smiling.

We got home in the evening. Sergei was very tired and so were the children. His mother was suffering, but she really held herself together. She is a clever and strong woman. Sergei was worse still and the injections no longer helped. He telephoned his friends. We met, chatted; when I managed to get them on their own, I told his friends the truth. And they, knowing the truth, also believed that everything would be okay. They even said to him, “Everything will be okay, you’ll get better.” They also believed in me.

Thank you for your faith and your support. I also spoke with Sergei’s mother, but didn’t manage it very often. It was very difficult for us.

The documents which we needed to get in the Ukraine still weren’t ready; difficulties had arisen. I had to go to Kiev. Sergei was really worried about me and I was going crazy, thinking about how he would get through a whole twenty‑four hours without me. But I had to go. On the day I left, he said:

“I know you’ll get the certificate.”

Now I was bound to get the certificate, no matter how complicated it was. We needed it. I left very nervous. I hadn’t slept the whole night, repeating, like an incantation. “I have to make a success of this.”

He waited for me, and was rewarded. I got the paper and the official stamp. I went back home, dreaming of seeing his eyes radiating joy. I drove up to the house, went in and my legs froze: he wasn’t there to meet me, but his father instead. My heart stopped:

“What is it, what’s happened to him?”

“Nothing, everything is alright, it’s just that he is sleeping and I didn’t want to wake him.”

“In the name of God, I nearly went nuts.”

I hurried; I wanted to hold myself close to him, I missed him. But it was so strange: he was unable to wake up and meet me. This thought would not leave me alone. As we approached the house, we saw a light in the window. His father opened the door and I immediately saw his eyes – the eyes of my one true love. He was alive, but he hadn’t come to meet me. He was very agitated.

I embraced him, seeing that he was in a bad temper.

“Hey, everything is okay, I’m home now, aren’t I?”

This is what had happened. His father had left to meet me earlier and locked the door. Sergei had set an alarm clock for a later time. Sergei woke, got dressed and couldn’t leave the house. He became agitated. His mother told me that he swore ferociously. But everything was okay. After all we were together again. He sang my praises.

“I knew that you would get this document. If you couldn’t do it, then nobody could.”

“Thank you for your faith in me, my darling.”

I had read a lot about his illness. Cold is the enemy of cancer. At home we sometimes showered Sergei in cold water from a basin. I tried to persuade him that we should take a plunge in an ice‑hole, become ‘polar bear swimmers.’ I managed. We went to look for a place to plunge. It was very cold and snow was falling. We found a place. We took turns to plunge. It was wonderful, but very cold. When we arrived home, he crawled under three blankets and lay there almost the whole day.

“What an idiot I have on my hands! Mother, this idiot nearly got me frozen!”

But I only smiled: how much warmth and love there was in his words. It had been one more moment of struggle together.

It came time to go. The road home was hard but, more importantly, we were very content together. When we got home, there were many calls on the answering machine: waiting for us, worried about us. It was very nice indeed.

The next stage of life began. Sergei was even worse. The pain didn’t let him relax for an instant. I went to the oncological center. The doctor turned out to be a very nice man. He smoked a pipe. He looked at my notes and asked, “What can I do for you?” I said something else, but I already understood: he was powerless to help me. It was hard for him to refuse us, but there was nothing he could do.

The nurse just offered a pack of tranquilizers for Sergei…

At home, I told Sergei that everything was going as it should do, it was a complex business. I gave him a new injection, and finally the long awaited relief came: for about four hours he no longer felt any pain. After this he told everyone about the miraculous needle and how great he felt. Now this medicine was always in the house, regardless of any difficulty. But his system got used to it, and he needed the injections more often. I noticed his increasing disquietude. Now I would get up in the night, as soon as he stirred and immediately run to him and give him a shot. He was a very strong man. Realizing how tired I was, he gave himself the injections, so as not to wake me. I would jump up, run to him and he would say, “Sleep, little one, I have already done it, relax.” He continued to look after me, I felt this all the time.

We still went to the pool two or three times a week. However, his system gradually grew weaker. We thought about his going back to hospital, getting an intravenous drip, strengthening his system, having another transfusion. On December 2, a Wednesday, Sergei just couldn’t swim. He said that he was in a bad way. On the Thursday, he had become even worse. On Friday morning we were getting ready to go to hospital. Sergei couldn’t move and hurt all over. I helped him to get dressed. While I was dressing him, the dog howled. He went down himself, but slowly. Slowly he sat in the car…

When I was taking him to the hospital, I was sure that it would be no more than a week. While we filled in documents in the lobby, he became still worse. They put him on a trolley and took him to the wing. I went up to the 5th floor by a different lift. Second surgery, ward No.2. Here my tired, beloved man lay on a bed, I lay him down and unpacked his things. Above all, we were together.

It was difficult for Sergei to speak; sometimes, with great difficulty, it was possible to make out what he was saying. I went home, where my mother was looking after the children. I collected our things which he had asked me to bring, and went back to the hospital again. He was sleeping.

Injections didn’t help: there was a lot of pain. He was in great discomfort. In the evening, Sergei’s friends came to see him. We chatted. I again believed that everything would be okay. I was sent home for the night. “Relax, tomorrow you can stay,” the doctor told me. At home my friends and I watched our wedding tape and cried. The girls drank home made vodka, I drank an infusion made by Sergei’s mother, but I didn’t close my eyes.

In the morning I came to him. I had bought a basket of roses and some really beautiful white flowers. He swore.

“Hey, I thought I told you not to spend any more money, you nitwit. And once again you’ve dragged in a bouquet.”

But I knew that he really needed it, because he was my most beloved. In the evening I asked his friends to help me make another dream come true and buy a twelve‑string guitar.

The guitar was very beautiful. We also bought strings and a blue bow. I went to see him.

“It’s for you, my darling.” I unwrapped the guitar. He sat on the bed, which was very difficult for him but his hands weakly strummed the strings:

“My little idiot. What did you get this for? I’m not up to playing the guitar right now…”

“It’ll get better and you’ll play and sing for me. I love you.”

I kissed him, stroked him and calmed him down. He felt terrible, but there was joy in his eyes.

On Friday I was sobbing, I couldn’t prevent myself. He slept most of the time. When he opened his eyes, the first thing he did was ask:

“Where is Natasha, did you send her to bed? She needs to relax…”

Through his pain, he only thought of me. He was as worried about me. I went to the ward and watched him as he slept. I sat by him, kissed him, stroked him, whispered how I loved him. Another night went by. In the morning I went home.

Sunday came. After lunch I went to Sergei, and in the evening I went up to the doctor and asked how things were for us. The doctor said that today everything would be okay. But he got even worse. They asked everyone to leave, but I stayed beside him. Sergei went to sleep after an injection, but started to retch and you couldn’t understand what he was saying, everything inside him was wheezing. I helped him as much as I could and ran to the doctor:

“What can we do?”

But there was nothing that could be done. Sergei asked me to give him one of our “home made” injections:

“The ones that they give here don’t help me.”

I gave him an injection. It became easier for him, because he really believed in it.

The doctor came and looked.

“They are giving him an injection now. He is dying. Sit beside him quietly.”

I cried.

Half an hour later, he woke up and began to undress. I dressed him. He said:

“Let’s go home.”

“We’ll go, my beloved, but in the morning, and we’ll go to the children.”

Staggering, he went down the corridor. We arrived in the room of the matron, where his coat and trainers were. He began to break the door.

“My sweetheart, my darling, don’t do that, it will cause them problems.”

I embraced him, and suddenly he turned to me and in his eyes was a call. He looked at me and sought support. He had gone away from me. I cried out and embraced him. He went limp in my arms. I told him how much I loved him and that everything would be okay.

“Hold on, it will all pass. We’ll be together, you and I.”

I took him into the corridor. He lay on the trolley. The matron came along. I kissed his hand.

“Don’t move. You have to fight. I love you and can’t live without you!”

I cried out, wept, held him with all my strength. I couldn’t let him go.

“I need you, I need you. I can’t live without you. I love you.”

He held me by the hand. He said quietly, but audibly,

“I promise, I promise.”

“Then put your arm around my neck and we’ll go into the room and you will lie down and sleep but in the morning everything will be alright.”

He got up, we went to the ward and I laid him down and gave him an injection. He stroked my face and held my hand. He loved me so much. He went to sleep. The whole evening he was throwing up violently and jumping up. We walked in the corridor all the time. After four at night he became more or less calm. I was with him and rejoiced in every instant we spent together. I was terrified of the coming morning: I was told that cancer victims generally die between five and six in the morning. I sat with him. He had asked me to lie by him and I was with him. God, how happy I was to be beside you, to touch you, to feel your breath, to love and be near you. Time went by: five in the morning. Six, seven…we had survived the night. I proudly announced to a friend of Sergei on the phone: “We survived the night.” I also told the doctor that we had made it. The doctor looked at me and said.

“I don’t expect there will be any more nights like that.”

Then I didn’t understand the terrible meaning of her words.

He was smiling, lying there so happily. I had to go until the evening. I spread out clean linen for him. He lay there and I put headphones on him and he listened to music.

They linked him up with an oxygen supply: he found breathing difficult. He had cheered up immensely. He was so happy. I asked him:

“Are you sure that you can manage without me? Maybe I shouldn’t go?”

“I won’t manage, but you’d better go. You have things to do. Only you can do these things.”

“I will come at four o’clock.”

“No, come at five.”

“Okay, I’ll decide for myself.”

He smiled, stroked my face and held my hand. We felt very happy. We were a united whole and nothing could tear us apart.

I got ready to go. He joked: he gave me the oxygen mask to try and then said:

“Have you got any chewing gum?”

I said I had.

“Then chew on it!” He laughed. And in his striking eyes were only life and laughter!