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*"You need to help Vova. He isn't opening his door. He might have done something to himself."* 

People knock on my door because I have become an on-call Santa. I keep my door and ears open for every Ukrainian in the location. Any time they need help with something I try to do my best. The kids here have nicknamed me дед мороз because of that. But this time, Santa could think of nothing but the worst. 


In the last few months Vova and I had become close acquaintances. With every passing day I noticed him getting worse and worse. I asked everytime I saw him if everything was okay...but being the diplomatic person he is he always answered very calmly. That's the thing with mental health - it's mental. Very rarely does it manifest physically or verbally. It is hard to know who is dealing with what, and how, from the outside. 


That is also the sad part with my current position. Ability does not correspond to action. I know what I'm capable of professionally but seldom can anyone actually utilise by abilities as a doctor. If I were in a position of a registered doctor, maybe all the Vovas would feel more comfortable talking to me about their issues. I still wish there was more I could do. I still wish they'd feel comfortable to talk to me...but would it even be helpful given I have no medical authority?


I rushed to his room with Julia and Gala right behind me. In the few short seconds I was only told that Vova's mom had called his colleague and said there may be trouble. His colleague called Gala and when they went to check on him they could only hear a knife opening and closing from behind the locked door.

I put two and two together and had already reached my conclusion. Was it too late already? 

We knocked on his door. We pleaded him to open. I kicked the door trying to break it open. When the door opened, I saw yet another unfortunate victim of this senseless war accompanied by unbearable screams from the women. I yelled at the ladies to move away, held the door by one hand and Vova's open throat by the other.  

Life isn't beautiful and colorful. People think just because a lot have fled and kept in shelters everything is bright and sunny. There is no measure of the things People deal with while in "safety". Family members stuck in the war torn country, news of deaths of friend and family, loss of possession and property, systematic mishandling of refugees and so much more. The reasons of a mental breakdown can be little to many. Some have the strength to push through and survive, others find bravery in ending it all. It was the harshest reminder of the reality we are in. Wish I could have done more. Why didn't he come to me? Why didn't he ever reach out for help? Was there a lacking in my efforts? 

I couldn't help but allow all the intrusive thoughts in my head as I felt his blood gush through my fingers. *"I'm here now. It'll all be okay. Don't worry."* I kept talking to Vova. He had lost a lot of blood till then. The dark brown floor of his room was painted red. My hands and shoes soiled in a friend's blood. The shock, the disbelief, the weight of the door on me, the phone stuck in between my ear and shoulder, my hand on his neck struggling to stop the blood...I was collapsing. 

"Сахар!" 

Remember, when you see blood, especially in a highly tensed situation, and you feel dizzy then you need sugar. Your blood glucose is dropping. I yelled for sugar as I landed butt first on the floor. 

With the little energy I had left in me I kept repeating the address to the emergency handler on the phone. After a sachet of sugar I quickly got back up, put a t-shirt on his throat and put his hands on it. "Hold it there. All will be okay."  I had to stop the bleeding. The cut was deep and his entire throat was exposed. Luckily I was there in time and more luckily he missed the jugular. 

Understanding signs of mental illness is very important. But everyone isn't trained for that, right? So let's make it a habit to check in with friends once in a while. Ask them if they have something to tell and make them understand its a no judgement zone. I failed at doing that with Vova, and this was the result. I wish I could have done more, and I dont want you to be in that position. 

Earlier this month I had recognised signs of stroke in an elderly Ukrainian woman and we successfullywere able to move her to a hospital in time after my recommendationto the shelter manager. And now Vova. If I were in a better position professionally then maybe I could have really done much more. But I really did the most I could possibly do. I tried, and Vova survived. The first responders came in after after a few minutes. A lot of questions from the police and the municipality directed at me,  but most importantly - he will live. 

I washed my shoes and hands, stayed a little longer with Julia and Gala. I'm still in a little bit of shock. A lot of us saw Vova smiling this very morning. 

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 There's a little bit of Vova in all of us, and I want to tell us all that you aren't alone. There are people who care and will be happy to help.