The Rev. Andriy has wed three couples at a regional hospice for terminally ill since it opened in Lutsk eight months ago. All of them were “about my mother’s age,” says Rev. Andriy. They lived together as husbands and wives after civil registration for decades and had grownup children. In one family the mother became terminally ill with cancer, and while at the hospice she asked to be married by a priest two or three weeks before her passing. She had been confined to bed for more than a year by then.
I was interested to see how the young priest (21 years old) and the hospice’s Chief physician Volodymyr Bachynsky communicated with the patients, 90% of whom come to grips with the reality of close death only at the hospice. For most of them it becomes a beginning of spiritual life.
“There are patients that have been a part of the Church. They need our support. There are others who decide to give their life to God and get baptized only at the hospice... I often speak with them. The Lord helps me find the right words to encourage them,” says Rev. Andriy.
He is the first priest in the family. He started by going to church like most people, mainly to celebrate Easter and hear the choir sing “Christ is risen, indeed.” Once, his mother got sick and they did not go to their grandmother’s village for the usual Easter confession. Instead they went to a church in Rovantsi (a village not far from Pryluky) by the invitation of a next door neighbor. Andriy liked the place and started helping the parish priest with two other boys his age. The priest welcomed and accepted him. Eventually Andriy finished the seminary and then served as a deacon at the Cathedral of the Holy Trinity for several years. After ordination he worked as a priest for a year. Archbishop Yakiv assigned him to the Church of St. Panteleymon that was being set up as a part of the hospice. The young man believes that this is his true calling.
Volodymyr Bachynsky wanted to have a church at the hospice from the very beginning. “It is one of those cases when one can’t heal the body without healing the soul. Without Christian faith it is hard to explain to the patients what happened to them and what awaits them as their life on earth is drawing to a close,” says Volodymyr. At the age of twenty-four he was already chief physician of a TB clinic in Zamlynnia, a village in Liuboml district. Now the Lutsk hospice is his place of service.
“The head of the department talked to me for a month trying to persuade me accept that post in Zamlynnia. My wife is also a physician, and usually it is easier for a family to get used to a rural life.
“Those four years in Zamlynnia were crucial, as we learned more about ourselves than we could ever imagine. We assisted in childbirth, sewed torn limbs back in place, visited patients in the middle of the night in neighboring villages, although it was not part of our job. When we were transferred to a TB hospital in Lutsk, nothing seemed too difficult any more, neither night shifts, nor the number of patients (the hospital had 400 beds).
“The village, with 125 homes and the hospital, was like a big family. We were always in contact with the people. One had to be a jack of all trades, in the best meaning of the word, and every patient was like a close relative. We gained experience that is worth a lifetime of training.”
The hospice does not have a hospital smell. It is designed to be like a home for patients, who long for comfort, support, and respect. The hospice staff encourages the patients to enjoy every day they live.
“We’re doing our best not to let our patients think that they are doomed. We try to help them understand that every day is worth living. People are born and live according to God’s will. It means that one should not give up before his time,” explains the chief physician. He adds that Rev. Andriy is “young but experienced and he knows how to communicate with the patients.”
Quite a few patients sign out of the hospice and return home in an elevated mood, described by Volodymyr Bachynsky as a “will to live.”
“Some people ask to be baptized because they are scared or just interested. For most patients, though, the days in the hospice bring about a real change. They learn to persevere, endure, and come to realize that people do not really need all those material goods that are so sought after in this world. These earthly benefits are nothing compared to spiritual life. The hospice priest has a chance to really focus on heavenly values.”
The Church of St. Panteleymon is actually just a room. It cannot accommodate everyone during the service. The most frequent visitors are patients from the oncologic ward, their families and relatives, and also Lutsk residents from the neighborhood. When asked whether people care about current disagreements between the dioceses, Rev. Andriy says ‘no’. People come to communicate with the Lord. Of course, everyone is free to choose between an Orthodox and a Greek Catholic priest for confession.
25 of 102 hospice patients have died since it opened. Some people believe that hospices are not suited for Ukrainian mentality, and that children should take care of their parents at home until they die.
“The fact that we only have a handful of such hospices in Ukraine (six in all —N.M. ) is a great tragedy, a sign of our weakness,” says Bachynsky.
The hospice conditions are much better than what people can afford at home. Special care is given to patients with cancer, people recovering after heart attacks, strokes, and serious body injuries. The rooms have one or two beds, carpets, televisions, and modern bathrooms. Some rooms even have extra beds for visiting relatives. And the kitchen is like a dream come true under the circumstances. It is equipped with two microwave ovens, so patients can have hot meals any time. 52 staff work with 25 patients. The state pays for 40% of all patients. The rest need their relatives and friends to pick up the bill. The fee is 8 to 19 hryvnias a day (an equivalent of $1.5-3.5). It includes accommodation, medicine, and food. In the eight months of its existence the hospice has accumulated UAH 47,000, mostly from humanitarian aid, in its bank account, which is a lot for such a small hospital.
“When a relative dies at home, it is hard for the family. They face a lot of problems, especially fear. The hospice staff prepare the patients for their last journey.”
“The doctors and nurses do not get angry with the patients, and the latter do not feel like a burden to the people around them,” points out Rev. Andriy. “The hospice is not just a hospital, it is a place blessed with the presence of God.”
