December 20, 2024, is a day that will remain etched in my memory forever. The exact time was 7:12 a.m. I remember that time not from a calendar or the news, but from the clock in the chief physician’s office. It stopped at the very second a missile struck our building, destroying the clinic I had built, nurtured, and developed for ten years.
I spent that night of hellish shelling in an underground parking lot, listening to the hum of kamikaze drones and the distant, muffled thuds of explosions. Kyiv felt like a tightly wound string—anxious and tense. Suddenly, there was a massive explosion, so loud that my entire body felt it, as if an invisible wave had passed through my bones. My phone immediately alerted me to a strike in the city center. I grabbed my bag and drove toward Antonovycha Street, never imagining that the disaster had struck right there.
When I arrived, the clinic was gone. There was only a cloud of dust, fragments of brick, and an endless sea of glass under my feet that crunched with every step. Rescuers, ambulances, and firefighters were still on their way. I became the first witness to the catastrophe of my life’s work.
Before me was a scene from a post-apocalyptic movie: a gaping black hole where the facade once stood. Torn metal structures protruded like broken bones. A burning fragment of the missile lay right at the entrance, sending thick smoke with the scent of burning metal into the morning sky.
A man in black stopped me, saying it was too dangerous to go further. “That’s my clinic! The cleaning lady might be inside!” I replied, trying to push past. He told me to call my colleague to help locate her among the ruins. At that moment, right before my eyes, the damaged ceiling collapsed.
Everything happened in slow motion. I remember the falling chunks of concrete, the cloud of dust, and the silence that follows an explosion—which felt even more terrifying. For a second, I felt fear, raw hatred, confusion, and numbness, but I quickly pulled myself together, determined to act.
The Offices That Are No More
The blast wave had blown out the windows and parts of the facade, and a fire broke out inside. People from neighboring apartments ran out in whatever they were wearing: bathrobes, running out barefoot, carrying children, cats in carriers, or wrapped in blankets. Children cried, and adults trembled from the cold and shock. Some stood silently, heads in their hands, staring at the fragments of their lives.
Within minutes, my colleagues began to arrive. The entire BG LAB team was there without a single order or phone call. Everyone went to their offices to save whatever remained. The gynecologist searched for the ultrasound machine; the dermatologists looked for the trichoscope, dermatoscopes, and our patient records.
As if by magic, hot tea and warm blankets appeared. Medics provided first aid, rescuers extinguished the fire, and volunteers cleared the debris. Everyone worked together—doctors, security guards, administrators, and even builders from neighboring sites. People cut their hands on the glass that was everywhere. The doctors’ white coats were stained with blood—the contrast of sterile white and red stains is an image that will stay with me forever.
The Power of Support
Soon, journalists appeared amidst this Armageddon. First came the Poles, then the French, Germans, and British. With the help of our administrator, Ms. Daria, they recorded every detail. Most importantly, they listened. They broadcast our pain and the truth to the world in real-time. Their cameras became our eyes, and their reports became our voice. Truth can be a powerful weapon, and that day, it worked for us.
Then, our patients started reaching out. They called anxiously, asking, “Are you alive? Where can we donate?” Everyone offered help. Young girls sent small amounts with the note, “We need you.” In that moment, I felt that we were not alone, and we had no right to give up.
Rebuilding Among the Ruins
We began repairs while the scent of burning still hung in the air. Burst pipes had flooded the offices, and icy moisture clung to the corners. It was hard work, but we didn’t stop because we had a common goal—to return.
While government agencies recorded us as victims, their assistance ended there. PrivatBank, where I had been a client for 15 years, refused to provide a loan. It brought a painful sense of indifference at a time when every hryvnia was worth its weight in gold.
I remember the moment I felt empty and powerless. But I looked up and saw my team standing before me. They didn’t ask what to do; they were simply there, refusing to let me fall. This unity became the foundation for our new life.
We Stayed for the Future
While the repairs were ongoing, the clinic lived on in temporary spaces provided by our friends and partners. DniproLab provided space for patient visits, and the SoulSpa medical center offered cozy offices for our specialists. DOC.UA, a partner of the clinic, also stood by us.
Despite the loss of equipment, we never stopped working. We used social media and banners to tell people where to find us. Marketers helped with every step—photos, videos, posts, and messaging. People saw our struggle and supported us at every turn. Everyone followed our recovery in real-time, waiting for the doors of BG LAB to open again.
When we finally returned to 72 Antonovycha St., a new chapter began. We managed not only to keep our entire medical team and every single patient but also to meet many wonderful new people.
Three Months of Struggle
We will never forget the date March 20. We celebrate it as the second birthday of BG LAB. In three months, we traveled the path from ashes to new walls. We know what it means to be a modern-day phoenix.
This recovery was made possible by our partners. Medical Laser provided lasers on an installment plan. Protect Solution repaired our ultrasound machine for free. Cosmo Trade restored our equipment, ordering new casings directly from the manufacturers. SpaLand, ANK, and DMK helped with furniture, supplies, and maximum discounts.
Some things were lost forever, while others still work today with scratches on their screens. We are sincerely grateful to everyone who was with us during those difficult days.
My advice for those who are currently in the dark and need guidance:
- Adopt an Adult Position. Understand that the state is, first and foremost, a bureaucracy. Do not waste time waiting for help in government offices. Real help comes from society—from people who know that a morning follows every terrible night.
- Speak About Your Pain. This opens the path to action. Do not be afraid of publicity; use social media to share what is happening. Your words are a signal to those ready to help.
- Leave the Past in the Past. Adapt and change your approach. An updated price list and new contracts with partners will help you hold on, change, and win.
- Be a Leader for Your Team. Your presence is more important than orders. People need a real leader—tired and worried, but resolute and unbroken.
- Save Yourself and What Inspires You. Even when ruined, we are capable of creating something new. Businesses, women, and healthcare workers are the pillars the country stands on. We have no choice but to move forward.
If you find yourself among the ruins of your dream, take what is left. Add a little faith, strength, and support. Build something new, human, and sincere. If you do your work with love, you will inevitably achieve the best result.
BG Lab Aesthetic Medicine Center has been operating since 2016, offering a full range of modern beauty and health procedures.
Source: doc.ua
