The patients came to me, calmed me down, told different stories, spoke very well of the surgeons. These kind people supported me. Their presence helped me a lot. Thank you, dear people.
I went to the church, which was opposite the hospital. I went in and said prayers, and lit a candle. My eyes were clouded with tears. When I got out of the church, I bought a crucifix. It was small and gold, on a leather cord. We had christened Sergei in the Ukraine. His godparents were his best friends in that life – his youth. Now I really wanted him to feel that I was beside him the whole time. I knew that he would be in recovery, and I would not be let in to see him; flowers were not allowed in there either, but they had to give him the cross. After the anesthetic he would see it and he would gradually grow calmer.
They had told me that such an operation takes a long time. But in all it took only two hours and our doctor called me into the office. Everything in me seized up, and I felt that I was about to hear the most terrible thing in my life…The doctor began to talk in a calm, soft voice.
“I must tell you the truth.”
It was difficult for him. He could not look me in the eye.
“Yes, Doctor, just tell me the truth”, I answered.
It really was so terrible, that everything turned upside down. It seemed to me that I would go crazy. It was Stage IV Cancer, inoperable… too late.
If only tears and screams could change anything! I cried and did not want to believe it.
“I love him, anything, anything at all, but just not this, not him, no, no.”
To this day I hear my kind doctor’s words: “Go ahead and cry. But only in here and right now, because later you won’t have the right to do so.”
And I cried and cried, and sobbed my heart out.
“How long will he live?”
“Not long. From a few weeks to six months.”
God, how terrible it was, that some inhuman pain could tear you to pieces from within, and that there was no escape from it. I wanted to shout, to roll on the ground, to bang my head against the wall. I did not want to live. The man you love is dying and there is nothing you can do.
Everything in me turned away from it. I cannot lose him. I love him. He is my life. He is everything that has been best in my life. He is the greatest, the most amazing man. I cannot believe that I am losing him. The pain transfixed me. The doctor went out. I remained alone. I had time, at least, to pull myself together a little. The doctor said I could give him the crucifix myself, but I had to calm down. We decided to tell Sergei nothing. I knew that my kind, good man was not ready just now to accept such terrible facts. He must come to himself again and know that everything would be okay. And I would fight for him. Everything really would be all right. Now was not the time for him to know about his ordeal… the fate that awaited him. The doctor came in and his lovely voice brought me back down to earth.
“Let’s go, but you need to pull yourself together.”
I promised.
We went into the intensive care ward. My darling, God, how I love him, lay sleeping. I went up to him, began to kiss him, to whisper words of love.
I heard his voice.
“It hurts. Where am I? Where am I?”
I stroked him, began calming him down: everything was okay, now everything was all right. Tears ran down my cheeks, I kissed him. The doctor helped put the crucifix on him. I left the ward and the strength finally left me. In the hall, I saw some guys there, two friends of Sergei. They came up to me and said that they knew everything. They supported me as best they could. The doctor told them not to leave me alone, to take me home and then watch over me.
“Come back tomorrow. He needs you, but you need to keep yourself together.”
“I’ll keep myself together. I will.”
The guys took me to the café. I cried and we talked for a long time. We didn’t want to believe in the death sentence. Pain smothered me, but I knew that the next day I had to be strong.
I came to him in the morning. He wasn’t sleeping. I had brought a basket of thirty‑three burgundy roses with me. They were very beautiful. I so wanted everything to be okay for him! He had to be happy and feel loved and wanted.
“Why are you spending so much money on me, silly?”
But he said this very pleasantly; his eyes were smiling.
We greeted each other. I kissed him.
“How are things, my sweet?” I said.
He began with a question:
Why was there a crucifix in his hand?
I smiled.
“You know, I felt that you were alongside me. I didn’t see you or hear you, but I could smell you and your tears fell on my cheeks. My darling, you were crying…In the morning, when I woke up, there was a string around my neck. I looked – it was a crucifix, which meant that you had really been beside me. Only you could have put it on me.”
He was happy and satisfied. I said that the operation had been a success, and now there would be a long period of recovery and everything would be fine for us. He hurt all over. It was even difficult for him to go to the toilet. I tried to help him: to raise the bed, so it was comfortable for him, to cover him; I even helped him to drink… when I left the ward, tears stifled me, I ran to the female nurse and asked for a tranquilizer. The evening came and I was getting ready to go home. I kissed him. He said:
“Tomorrow is your birthday.”
“Yes. I will come to you and we will be together.”
In the morning I put on a yellow suit that he really liked, did myself up and went to see him. He was waiting for me, and we greeted and kissed.
“I wish you had brought some sweets.”
I ran to the doctor and asked him if he could have sweets. The doctor said, “Yes, boiled sweets.” I promised to bring them the next day.
“I knew that you would wear this suit.”
He smiled.
Time went by unheeded. We had a great time together. We chatted, did crosswords, he relaxed and I delighted in his breathing. We were together and nothing could disturb us. Taking out his bedpan, going down the long corridor, I thought: “Oh God, how happy I am, yes, happy. I am beloved and I love, I can be beside my loved one and indispensable to him, like the air that he breathes.”
He would often repeat.
“Go on, go home, you will have guests.”
“Sergei, I haven’t invited anyone, I will be with you, my darling.”
I left him late, at eight o’clock. For the first time in many days, I didn’t cry. – I felt very good. We had spent the day so pleasurably together that I was happy.
When I got home, I discovered a surprise. Our friends had laid the table and were waiting for me. They had come to congratulate and support me. They were so kind and dear to me. They gave me presents, congratulated me, and all of them suffered the trials which I was going through together with me.
Sergei had given me a bouquet of 27 red roses for my 25th – a year later, my friends did the same. I will always remember these roses. They were roses of friendship, respect and love. It was wonderful to be among friends, and only the fact that Sergei was not there oppressed and weighed heavily on me. The thought that he had but a short time left to live constantly distracted me.
No, my Sergei would live. I was ready to fight for him, to look for the necessary literature, where I could find the straw to grasp at. But next to me were his friends and doctors – I believed them and believed in them. They gave me money, for I knew Sergei’s cherished childhood dream. In the morning I went to the shop and bought him some binoculars, which I had chosen with his friends from the institute. They were packed in glittering paper with a beautiful bow.
When we went in, he immediately boasted that the doctor had given him a sweet. I went into the ward, put the box on the bed and said: