Ukraine Adventures – Part 4

By Matt Evans 

(Editor’s Note: Local critical care paramedic Matt Evans spent five weeks helping out in Ukraine this past summer. In this final installment of the four-part series, he describes some of his adventures…)

Coming home

I got to share my final day at the house with a few good friends: a medic from England and two doctors, one from Norway and one from Arizona. My Norwegian friend was the most well-read person I’ve ever known. Every conversation we had I learned something new, and he could cite the exact study mentioned. Literally every single one. A man dedicated to his craft. My English friend had spent time as a private bodyguard/paramedic and he had worked various contracts around the world. He’d even worked at the royal wedding. He was a jovial and dialed paramedic. My friend from Arizona was quiet and unassuming. After a few weeks I finally pried enough to hear her life stories like deployment to Iraq in 2008 with the Army, working as an ER doc on a reservation in Arizona and doing relief work in Gaza. They were all top-notch humans. Which was, in my experience, the norm out there.

I was sad to leave. Both on position and off, I was surrounded by dedicated, professional, like-minded people. I was always the least cool, least accomplished person in the room and I loved it.

We talked a lot about the challenges of returning home on that last day. It can be a rough transition for some. There is, of course, the excitement of seeing my family and friends. The emotions were mixed. Always being surrounded by strong, incredible people, always being in a state of hyper-vigilance, always surveying your surroundings for potential threats. Never leaving the house without at least a tourniquet, knife and some basic stop-the-bleed supplies. I love being in that state of mind, although it can be the source of many peoples’ challenges with re-integration. It’s hard to turn it off.

It came time to go to the train station. My Norwegian friend accompanied me on the drive.

“How are you feeling? Still mixed emotions about leaving?” he asked.

“No. Mostly just sad now,” I responded.

I was missing the life before I even left. It was like leaving a summer camp when you’re a kid, not knowing when or if you’ll see all these people again. But everything comes to an end. And living like that can take a toll. You just have to look into the eyes of the Ukrainian soldiers to see that.

I am fortunate, I was only there for five weeks. The normal day-to-day problems back home seem so mundane. Which is good. It provides perspective. I was hardly there long enough to be really traumatized. The only challenges I faced coming home were a deep desire to return. A desire I still feel. I miss the people, and the unity of the mission. I wish I could’ve done more to help. Which is why I am writing this. 

When it comes down to it, anyone can help as much or more than I did. Money can save more lives than I could ever dream of. One tourniquet can save one life. And a tourniquet is a lot easier to get to where it is needed than a Western volunteer is. If anyone wants to help the conflict in Ukraine, donations go a long way. Frontline medics does real hands-on work. I have seen it, and every dollar helps. Be cautious about which organizations you choose to support, as there are NGOs with a bad reputation for using the conflict to promote their image more than actually help Ukrainians. Below is a list of other NGOs I learned about from people on the ground. They have good reputations and do real work:

•Blue Yellow Foundation: https://blueyellowfoundation.org/

•Swallows Foundation: https://swallowsfoundation.org/reports

•The Red Cross in Ukraine: https://www.redcross.org/about-us/our-work/international-services/ukraine-crisis.html?srsltid=AfmBOopNIg7D6xTmCvq27DnfhbJuc6qzT7ai8vI5cfGMIC_NkiHLFIDZ

•Free Ukraine: https://freeukraine.life/

•Ukraine Children’s Action Project (UCAP): https://ucap.help/