Gaby
Gratitude in Times of Illness
Thank you to my husband, who stayed by my side through my illness. He called for “Boris” and, without hesitation, took me to the hospital. In the intensive care unit, after the procedure and several IV drips, I regained consciousness. A doctor came over and said, “Turn to the window and try to smile — your husband has been standing there the whole time, deeply worried about you.” I turned to the window, and through a tiny crack between the curtain and the glass I saw my husband’s familiar, tear-filled eyes looking back at me. Thank you, my love — I would have been lost without you!
Thank you to my dear mom, who took a week off work to be with our daughter and also stayed by my side, trading shifts with Ivan. Having my mom nearby meant everything. I remember from childhood that no illness feels as scary when Mom is around. If I could, I would repay her in every way, but the only thing I could manage was to fall to my knees and give her her favorite yellow roses — thank you, Mom, for everything!
Thank you to my sister Irka — I can’t even remember how many phone cards we used, endlessly calling each other in tears: “I love you so much; you are the most precious thing I have — hang in there!” “I love you too; please pray for me…” Thank you, sister!
Thank you to my dear aunt and her whole family, and to my brother Alyosha — thanks to their efforts, the hospital staff treated me so well. Thank you for the delicious food and your constant care.
Thank you to my roommate, Nadezhda Kharitonovna. She truly was my hope. When my mom or Ivan couldn’t be there, she helped me sit up, brought me food, and tucked me in with a blanket like a mother. She adjusted my pillows, kept me entertained with stories, and genuinely cared for me. When I started feeling better, my sister gave me a very interesting book about the three Optina New Martyrs — monks who were killed by Satanists in 1993 during Easter at the monastery. I read the book aloud to my roommate, and we devoured it. We would wake up, read, eat, and go straight back to reading until sleep. Sometimes I’d have to stop and couldn’t continue; I’d sit there crying, and Nadezhda Kharitonovna would come over, hug me, kiss me, and say, “Child, you have such a kind heart!” and we’d cry together. The book strengthened my spirit; it felt like my wings had spread, and I gained three more helpers: Father Vasily, Father Trofim, and Father Ferapont — thank you. We read until my roommate was discharged, and by the time we parted, we were bonded soul to soul. Thank you so much, Nadezhda Kharitonovna!
Thank you to all my loved ones and friends who visited me, called, prayed for me, and simply cared. Thank you! This illness has taught me so much.
