Early Friday morning, I found myself in the emergency room in Kyiv, Ukraine, struggling to breathe. My legs and lips had turned a strange purple and bluish color, and my lower limbs were painfully swollen. I didn’t fully grasp what was happening—just that something was seriously wrong.
After being assessed in the ER, I was immediately transferred to a cardiology hospital. Once there, doctors performed an ultrasound on my heart. The results were devastating: I was diagnosed with severe heart failure. Everything moved quickly after that. I was placed in the intensive care unit (ICU) and monitored closely, surrounded by machines, wires, and a team of professionals who made it clear that this was a critical moment.
The plan was to stabilize me in the ICU and move me to a general ward the next day. There, I would wait for an angiopathy—an important procedure to give doctors a clearer picture of what was going on inside my heart. Though I was weak, every hour brought a bit more clarity. I started thinking not just about recovery, but also about how fragile life really is and how fast things can change.
I’m writing this in retrospect, on the evening of July 24th, 2025, as I sit down to update my blog. The days have blurred together, but I wanted to document this chapter while it’s still fresh.
