When the war broke out in Ukraine, staying in Belgium was not an option for Ghent wound care specialist Ihor Vitenko (56). With contempt for death, he went three times to his native country to treat wounded soldiers and train healthcare personnel. Despite dramas in his personal life – Ihor lost both his parents in 2022 – he wants to return next year. “I have no choice: too many people need my help.”
Ihor Vitenko: “I was born and raised in Ukraine. I worked as a young doctor in a hospital and wanted to become a surgeon, but due to the crisis in my country, I moved to Belgium 23 years ago. I live here with my wife and children and work as a wound care specialist in Ghent’s Jan Palfijn hospital. I have also had my own wound care clinic for several years.
“Ukraine will forever be my homeland. When the rocket attacks started in February, I immediately told my wife: ‘I have to leave.’ Ukraine needed my help. I had already returned to help: in 2014, when the Russians annexed Crimea, I also went to care for soldiers at the front.”
What did you do this time?
Vitenko: “I heard from colleagues in Ukraine that there was an acute shortage of medical equipment: painkillers, bandages, compresses, surgical gowns, and so on. I went looking and launched a call. The solidarity was overwhelming. Pharmacists, vets, general practitioners, colleagues, companies, former patients, distant acquaintances, complete strangers… Everyone came trotting along with material and money. After barely a week, I left for my country with some volunteers and three crowded second-hand ambulances. Because people kept donating, ambulances full of materials drove to Ukraine all year round. This is how we have kept many hospitals running.”
What did you notice when you arrived in Ukraine in March?
Vitenko: “That my country was really at war. In 2014 there was a local battle in Crimea, now the atmosphere of fear and terror hung in the air everywhere. I thought: this is like World War II, but in my own country. I took up post in Vinnitsa, a city in the heart of Ukraine. Three railway lines converge there, so in the first weeks of the war wounded soldiers from the north, south and east of the country poured in.
“The first weeks were chaotic. I was almost always in the operating room and slept far too little. The battle is dirtier than eight years ago, I could tell by the horrific injuries. In 2014, the soldiers mainly had gunshot wounds, now they bear the marks of grenade explosions and rocket hits. That made my job more difficult: missile fragments not only cause more and bigger wounds, they also cause invisible damage in the body. After a few days, a patient with a wound below the knee suddenly developed an abscess in the groin. I had to read up quickly, because that was also new to me.”
Did you also cater for civilians?
Vitenko: “Not much, that was too heavy for me. I don’t get emotional easily when I see a wounded soldier coming in, but the elderly, women and children: that’s something else.”
What is the difference?
Vitenko: “War is something between soldiers, I think, but the Russians apparently see it differently. When they conquer villages, they attack ordinary families in their farms and houses. In civilian hospitals I saw people without ears or noses: the Russians had mutilated their faces. I’ve seen women with their breasts cut off, castrated men, children and seniors hit by bullets… When I first saw that horror, I was in shock. I had to take a day off to recover.
“I spoke to a woman who had been raped by several Russian soldiers, got pregnant and lost the baby. A horrible story, but she told it almost euphorically. She was so traumatized that she completely lost herself. Psychologically she was a wreck.
“I lost ten kilos in the first months from the stress. At night it was sometimes difficult for me to fall asleep because of everything I had seen and experienced that day.”
You travel from city to city in Ukraine.
Vitenko: “Indeed, I cross the country with my own improvised ambulance: a second-hand Opel Zafira. I distribute medical supplies, take care of soldiers and train healthcare personnel. The latter is also necessary, because wound care is a profession in itself. Thanks to my training, I master techniques that many Ukrainian nurses do not know. As a result, we hardly have to amputate any body parts in some hospitals. In collaboration with the Ukrainian Ministry of Health, I have now developed a course to become a wound care specialist.”
In a report by Rudi Vranckx you can see how you continue to work undisturbed in the hospital despite the sound of the air raid alarm.
Vitenko: “If you are operating, you cannot just drop everything and go into hiding. I was rarely in real danger, because I have only worked in liberated areas. I wanted to work closer to the front, but the Ukrainian authorities are very strict and would not let me pass.
“However, I have experienced a few bombing raids. The first time I hardly knew what hit me. It was six o’clock in the evening and I had just finished work. I was walking out of the hospital and heard a messy sound I couldn’t place. I wasn’t panicked, but when I looked around I saw patients and soldiers taking cover. They knew the sound of rockets, but I didn’t. Another rocket fell barely two hundred meters from my residence in Vinnitsa, but fortunately I was not at home at the time.
“I want to do everything in my power to stop Vladimir Putin. I can’t shoot, so I use my hands for what they do best: tending wounds.”
How are your family and friends in Ukraine?
Vitenko: “Most of them have fled the country. I lost both my parents this year, but not to the war. My father passed away at the beginning of this year, my mother a few weeks ago. She had a cerebral hemorrhage. I traveled to Ukraine for her funeral and stayed for several weeks to tend to soldiers. I have been back in Belgium since last week.”
Wasn’t all this too much in one year for one person? Don’t you also have to mourn?
Vitenko: “Everyone grieves in their own way. Sitting still at home would only make me unhappy, especially when my compatriots need help. It’s my way of coping with the loss of my parents.”
You have been back in Belgium since last week.
Vitenko: “Yes, I traveled to Ukraine three times, in total I was there for almost six months. Fortunately, my family is 100 percent behind my mission. I also feel a lot of support at work: the hospital has given me three weeks of paid vacation on top of my legal days off and my colleagues have taken over my shifts without complaint. But I also did a lot of unpaid work in Ukraine and my heavy loan from the bank did not suddenly disappear. But those are concerns for later. I have no choice: too many people need my help.”
What does the near future hold for you?
Vitenko: “I will spend the holidays and the first weeks of the new year in Belgium. I feel that the past year has been tough for me, physically and mentally. My country at war, the horror, the loss of my mom and dad… I need to rest, take care of myself. I hope to return in the spring.
“But I really can’t sit still. I organize truck transports with medical equipment and generators, I provide online training to healthcare providers in local hospitals, and from January Ukrainian nurses will do an internship with me. This way I can also contribute from Ghent.”
Meanwhile, the Ukrainian army has its sights on Crimea. Rudi Vranckx said in There that he is worried about the advance, because a reconquest of Crimea could really give Putin nuclear ideas.
Vitenko: “I have one message for the West: if we give in one centimeter now, Putin will never stop. This war determines the rules of the game for the world of tomorrow. If we admit now, Putin will soon invade Moldova, then Lithuania, and who knows which country next? Ukraine is the only buffer against its conquest.
“Patriotism in Ukraine is stronger than ever. Wounded soldiers groan in pain, but still want to return to the front as soon as possible. They are not afraid. Our soldiers fight for the freedom of everyone, including you and me.”
Those who want to support Ihor’s mission can visit www.ihorvitenko.org.
© There