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  I got know about the diagnosis of my son, when he was one year old. Heretofore I was worried about his stomachache, but doctors stated that it is rickets. Once we, by accident, were at the professor's reception and she having examined Igor, said she had neoplasm as large as my fist. Two weeks I could not go out from my flat - I was crying. But I need to pull myself together - the long treatment was waiting for us. Four-month abiding at the hospital did not give prospective results. The tumor was resisting the chemotherapy influence, and five-hour operation appeared to be useless - malignant neoplasm embraced the aorta and that is why it could not be extracted. It is unspeakable what had I gone through being at the children's ward. Extremely thing and bold children, "fettered" to the droppers: all dreams concerning happy childhood were destroyed as house of cards. Since then I like nimble children - they run, make a noise, laugh. They are healthy!

  I was said that Igor had two weeks left to live. And I decided that those two weeks he would stay at home with his family. But fate decreed in another way: my husband became a priest, and I constantly was giving my son herbal infusion. And he had lived not two weeks, but twelve years. Igor studies well. At school he was not just beloved but respected. He was able to get on with either with junior and with senior children. He never asked anything like other children do "Buy me this, mummy, buy me that" in spite of realizing that he was ill. Owing to fund "Oncologist" my child had been to Sweden. On arriving home he were telling me through the whole night how great it was there. Foreigner getting know what children had come, started to bring everything they could - money, cloths, toys, fruits. Every day children were taken to the seaside, McDonald's. They visited the picturesque park with different sideshows, wearing life jackets they were boating and fishing, had been on the fire tower. The Swedish woman, whose son had got fatal illness, organized all the abovementioned. I appreciate her greatly! All that is so necessary for children whose life is so shot. Igor was rather glad of various trips. We have been to Truskavets, Morshyn, Transcarpathian mountings. It was so pleasant to look at buoyant son.

  When he was twelve, he became to feel worse his tumor had increased. We were forced to go to hospital over again. If you just saw how bravely he was suffering the chemotherapy sessions! Doctors told, that not all of adults were capable of it. The first course of treatment comprised ten bags of dropper without a break while the patient is turned inside out over nausea. Igor had stood everything - just to recover. He wanted to live greatly! He even started to douche himself with the cold water - considering that it could help! But nothing had helped: Igor all the same did not fall in despair and hoped on.

  In the intervals between courses of chemotherapy he studied with the teacher in spite of being able to sit not more than for twenty minutes. He had learnt to embroider being in bed. He never complained. Igor even encouraged me. When the tube was set into his belly for dripping liquid out, it seemed to me to be strange, but he said: "Mum, it's OK".

  On account of this tube we were assigned to "Hospice". Before I was afraid of this department, passed it by. But now I cannot imagine/ what could happen with me if I was left alone. There was done everything to relieve our life.

  Igor passed away quietly. Understanding that he was fading away, I did not stir a step from his side. And even then he was caring about me, saying "Mum, go to bed, have a rest." Last his words were: "Thank the nurse."

  Igor died on April, 9, 2004