"I intended to commit suicide." How psychiatrists help soldiers heal from the effects of war.

“They treat you humanely. Honestly, I didn't expect that”

Before the large-scale war, "Pavlovka" primarily treated individuals with severe mental health disorders. Later, a new cohort of patients—soldiers—was added. In June 2022, a separate ward was opened for them, initially with 40 beds. By August of last year, it was moved to a different building.

Currently, all 70 spots are occupied. The beds hardly have a chance to cool down: when one soldier is discharged, another takes his place. It's like a conveyor belt. On the day we visited the hospital, four new patients were admitted.

Post-traumatic stress disorder, panic attacks, anxiety, and the aftermath of explosive injuries are the common conditions among these soldiers. Almost all of them return to service.

We first meet a man wearing a sailor shirt. He has a neatly trimmed gray beard and an earring in his ear. The call sign "Gray" suits him well. He explains that he has been with this name since his biker days.

He introduces himself as Vadim Kononov, 59 years old. In civilian life, he is a director and actor, having appeared in Ukrainian and Russian films. Born in Konotop, his family moved to Russia when he was just a child. He grew up in Siberia and graduated from a philology faculty in Russia. Yet, fate eventually brought him back to Ukraine.

“I have polar bloodlines: one half of my family lives in St. Petersburg, while the other hails from Kolomyia. My native language is Russian, but I learned Ukrainian because it’s important to know the language of the country where you live. It’s a sign of respect for this land. That way, you become one of those who live here”, says Kononov.

The man joined the military with his son in the early days of the large-scale war. He fought in Kyiv, Kharkiv, and Donetsk regions. He served as a mortar man and a radio operator. This year, he became a press officer and aims to document the stories of soldiers in this role.

Kononov ended up in "Pavlovka" due to a concussion. He lost sleep and his blood pressure spiked, prompting the chief medical officer to send him for treatment. Initially, Kononov was skeptical about his psychiatrist, thinking she was too young. However, he quickly realized that she knew her craft well. The same went for the psychologist.

“They treat you humanely. Honestly, I didn't expect that. This communication is important for me, and we are far from triggers. Imagine, in the first days, I didn’t want to go home. The area here is nice; I walk around and admire the sculptures”, shares the man.

While we talk, he is alone in the ward, despite there being four beds. Next to each bed are rubber slippers and tactical shoes, and on the chairs and windowsill are pixel-patterned backpacks. Through the wide windows, one can see the Kirillov Hills. The ward has a newly renovated bathroom, with turquoise walls adorned with clay artworks. Among them is an icon of Archangel Michael.

“This is already the Soviet era”

Kononov worries that he may never be able to sleep without medication again. In April, he has his “demobilization,” and he adds at the end: “I’ll somehow get by.”

– So, how are we doing? Cozy, like at home? — a stout man enters the ward. He greets Kononov. This is the head of the department, Igor Dubinin.

— Cozy! — Kononov replies lively. He promises to return here to make a film after demobilization.

According to Dubinin, assembling the current team was not easy. Few want to work with soldiers, and not everyone is prepared for a long workday. Currently, there are four psychiatrists for 70 patients.

The hospital lacks psychologists. More psychiatrists are also needed because they are currently under immense pressure. Whether the ward will be expanded is an open question due to funding issues.

Treatment in "Pavlovka" is comprehensive. It includes medication, psychological support and correction, various types of rehabilitation, including physiotherapy. At any time, soldiers can approach a psychologist and share their experiences. They also visit the swimming pool or play football. There is time for leisure as well.

The head states that the first floor of the ward has been renovated, but the second is “already Soviet.” He leads us to show it. We climb the stairs, and in the dark corridor, there is old linoleum on the floor.

“See how beautiful the floors are, what walls and doors? Bomb!” — the doctor jokes and adds: “I’m tired of begging: give me this, give me beds...”

On the first floor, there is a zone with a huge aquarium and a television where the guys play games. The second floor is considerably poorer. When asked if the state and city help, the doctor does not respond. But it’s clear that there is a lack of funds.

Dubinin leaves us as he has a lot of work to do. We take a picture by a wall adorned with flags from fighters who received treatment here. The tour is then continued by occupational therapist Mikhail Parfenov. He is a veteran himself, has a medal for the defense of Kyiv, and is also a master of sports in kickboxing.

We enter the gym, which had been just a storage room before the military ward was established. It has been equipped by volunteers and caring individuals. Now, it’s frequented not only by patients but also by staff, says Parfenov, showing a video of a doctor from another ward doing pull-ups on a bar.

“The most active participants were the guys after captivity. I also remember a man with an amputated arm who came every day for boxing and tennis but still asked for even more training”, says the occupational therapist.

“If you don’t want to live, spend your life for a good cause”

As we leave the hospital, we meet Ivan. He praises the doctors here—motivated and trying to help the fighters. There’s nothing like the “Soviet era,” where they would just give you a pill and monitor to ensure you didn’t run away.

“Why am I here? On one side—an enemy, on the other—I can’t go on leave; I have to serve. I had the intention to commit suicide, and after that, I ended up here for treatment”, the young man recounts his condition.

Ivan claims that if he hadn’t asked for treatment himself, he would never have been sent.

“My commanders have this mindset: if you don’t want to live, f*ck off and spend your life for a good cause, dig a trench for the f*ckers to make it easier to storm,” Ivan explains.

His father passed away when he was young, and his mother is abroad—they don’t communicate. His sister and her husband, who recently died at the front, replaced his parents.

“I feel that my support is needed by my sister. Most people do this: they neglect their health when loved ones need help. I do too”, the soldier says about why he sleeps at home.

He shares that he had a “white ticket” and could have avoided military service, but he joined the defense of the country. Now, he wants to leave the army and move on with his life.

We said goodbye to Ivan at the intersection, fist-bumping. From there, we parted ways. Ivan will return to "Pavlovka" tomorrow, where those like him smoke cigarette after cigarette on the benches.

This material was created with the support of the Federal Foreign Office of Germany.