Чернобыль. Страницы жизни и любви

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 5

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: