Where to begin our story... I guess, like everyone else, I'll start from the beginning. Our family isn't very happy — three children, a single mother, first my brother and I were in a full-time daycare, then in boarding schools. When I was in sixth grade, my mother traded our apartment in Odessa for a house in B.-Dnistrovskyi. That was the end of my education, and my brother's, too. Mom never enrolled us in school again, and, most importantly, social services didn't come to see us. We had something to eat for a month, and then that was it. Mom practically drank away the rent, and she wasn't in any hurry to work, but we were hungry. At first, we begged people to help us dig, like in the villages. I was 9 years old, and my brother 8. People laughed, of course, but they took us. We barely made it through a year like that, then I freaked out, took my brother, and we went back to Odessa. There we met some friends who gave us the address of a man at 7km. We went to see him, and he gave us defective shoes, rubber boots (galoshes). We worked like that for years 5, getting up at 5 in the morning, walking an hour and twenty minutes to the commuter train (9 km), getting shoes paired at a warehouse, and lugging huge bags back, selling them on the commuter train. It's always easier for kids, but we've grown up.

While I could — my brother was with me, then we each made our own lives as best we could, since I had no education, so my work was appropriate... My first official job was at 15 years old — making pies, then I was a salesperson, a waiter, a bartender—basically, I worked wherever I could earn enough to rent a room. It was hard alone... Finally, by 20 years old, I got a job as a janitor and got a wheelchair license. I was very happy about that! I was 20 and I had no idea why I needed this life, why I was living, or for whom. I felt like I'd already lived and seen everything, I didn't want anything, I kept telling God: if only I had a child, then I'd have something to live for and someone to live for. I walked past playgrounds and cried, I even got a dog, thinking — it's more fun now, I'll be able to walk with it, at least I won't have to sit at home. I cried to God for a year, I didn't even immediately realize I was pregnant. I just took a test and when I saw two lines — I literally jumped for joy. I'll probably keep quiet about the story with Vanya's father, but I'll just say that Vanya wasn't just a random guy, and he was very much wanted! I wasn't afraid of anything. I didn't think about having nothing but work and a wheelchair. I didn't think Vanya's father would abandon him (although that was a shock for me). He abandoned us three months into my pregnancy, but he helped as much as he could. Until he found out he had cancer, and then he just disappeared. I carried Vanya easily, even though I was constantly at risk of miscarriage and cried throughout the pregnancy. Sometimes there was nothing to eat, but luckily, friends helped me out. Even though I gave birth a little early, — Vanyushka was born a completely healthy baby; until 7 months, he was practically healthy.

In November 2011 (he was 1 year and 3 months old), I began to notice that when we were playing, he would suddenly grab his head—this happened a couple of times, but I didn't think anything of it. Then he became nervous and irritable. At eighteen months, we ended up in the infectious diseases hospital with severe food poisoning. After the infectious diseases hospital, Vanyusha had two colds (a month apart), and then more... He started vomiting, rarely at first, then more often. I couldn't understand what was happening to him. I rushed from one ultrasound room to another, but no one could tell what was wrong. We had endless tests, and gradually he refused to walk. I cried over him, I was desperately short of money, I just didn't know what to do. I borrowed money from a neighbor and went with him to the Children's Hospital for an examination. They kept us there for two weeks, gave us rheosorbilact and other medications. When I asked the neurologist why he wasn't walking, they told me he had neurasthenic syndrome. Nothing helped, not even the antiemetics, he was vomiting all the time. In the end, the doctor told us she didn't know what was wrong with us and told us to go to the Second City Hospital, to the gastroenterology department. Let them figure it out. That's how we ended up there. The doctor, after taking all the tests and convening a panel of doctors, said to me, "Karina, you know, I'm sure this isn't our case. All the baby's tests are normal. You need to consult with other doctors, because Vanya even sleeps in the position 3 — «of a pointer dog»— that is, with his head thrown back."

We caught a cold again, and she couldn't let us go, and our cold was cured. Then we went to the village for a gastroscopy. Our doctor said, if everything is fine there — go there immediately for a consultation. And so we went (28.02.2012)... The neurosurgeon, hearing the symptoms, said, "I already know what's wrong with him," and took us for a head ultrasound. There, he discovered a tumor so huge for a baby, he said, "You stay here, the baby can't be transported!" So we ended up in the neurosurgery department. The doctor said, "We can't wait, he could die..." Within a week, they ran all the tests and 07.03.12 we had surgery. Then the histology test, and another stroke. — The tumor is malignant! 23.03.12 We were transferred to the hematology department for chemotherapy. It was very difficult mentally, but Vanyusha is a great guy! Block after block of treatment went well, ignoring the incontinence and chickenpox. They even canceled radiation therapy. 33 Weeks passed. We finished treatment and a new life began. — A period of adaptation and recovery. Gradually, Vanya forgot everything—no, he remembers the nurses, the children, his friends, and he's completely forgotten that he was sick. We even went to kindergarten, since I had to work and study; I wanted to at least get a diploma. A year and a half of remission... we were sure everything was fine. And then, (11.06.14) a scheduled MRI showed we had a relapse... Words can't describe what I felt. Vanya was under anesthesia, but he still remembers, and still asks: "Mommy, why were you crying there, in the ward?" I can't even answer him, he wouldn't understand anyway. Now he's 4 years and 5 months old, he's a wonderful child — helper, and I can't imagine my life without him, because he — is all I have, and he only has me. An anonymous person helped us with our last treatment; he paid for all our chemotherapy, for which I bow low to him! I don't know how we would have coped. This time, there's no such person; the second time is always harder than the first. My only hope is in caring people. Help cure and save my baby!!!

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