Чернобыль. Страницы жизни и любви

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.”