December 20, 2024, is a date I will never forget. The exact time was 07:12 AM. I remember this number vividly because the clock in the Chief Physician’s office stopped at that precise minute. That was the moment of impact—the moment the clinic I had built for ten years ceased to exist.
I spent that night in a parking garage; Kyiv was humming with the sound of drones and missiles. Then, there was an explosion—staggering in its force. Messages immediately began popping up: “Strike in the city center.” I drove to the clinic instantly.
When I arrived at Antonovycha Street, the clinic was gone. The ambulances, rescuers, and firefighters were still on their way. I was the first one there.
In place of our facade were piles of brick and shards of glass. Charred cars lined the street. A fragment of the missile lay directly in front of the entrance—a burning relic of war. A man in black stopped me, saying it was too dangerous to go further. I had to explain that this was my clinic and that our cleaning staff might still be inside.
“Call them,” he said. “We’ll try to find them.” At that exact moment, the ceiling collapsed. It was a surreal, haunting sensation.
Rubble in Place of Consultations
The blast wave had blown out the windows, torn away part of the facade, and ignited a fire. People were running from the building in robes, barefoot, clutching children and pets. Some were wounded, others paralyzed by shock, silently staring at their shattered lives.
We went to work. The team arrived—our entire BG LAB family. Every doctor went straight to their office to salvage what they could. Our gynecologist searched for the ultrasound machine; our dermatologists looked for the trichoscope, patient files, and dermatoscopes.
We cleared the debris together: builders, security guards, and administrators. Our hands were cut by glass, and our white coats were stained with blood—a contrast I will never be able to forget.
The Strength Found in People
Amidst the smoke and rubble, the international press appeared—journalists from Poland, France, Germany, and the UK. They filmed everything: a chair that would never again hold a patient; a room where people were healed yesterday, now reduced to ash.
But their most valuable contribution was that they listened. They told the world what happened. Their lenses became our eyes; their words became our voice. Truth, after all, is also a weapon.
Then came the patients. Some called to ask, “Are you alive?” Others messaged us, asking where they could donate. Young girls sent 100 UAH with notes saying, “We need you.”
In that moment, I realized: we were not alone.
Resilience Isn’t Pathos—It’s a Routine
We began rebuilding while the rubble was still crunching under our feet and the smoke had yet to clear. Shards of glass seemed to hang in the air, inseparable from the smell of burning. After the strike, the pipes burst, and every corner was soaked; the damp and cold seemed to seep into our very bones. That image haunted us for a long time.
The state recorded us as victims, but that was where the help ended. No compensation, not a single kopek. PrivatBank, where I had been a client for over fifteen years, refused us a loan. That hurt. At our lowest point, when the clinic didn’t physically exist and every hryvnia was worth its weight in gold, we were met with indifference. It was a blow as palpable as the missile itself.
I won’t hide it—that was the moment I almost gave up. Despair and emptiness washed over me. But when I looked up, my team was standing there. They didn’t ask what to do; they were simply there. That gave me the strength to gather myself and start over from zero.
We Didn’t Give Up. We Didn’t Move. We Returned.
While the repairs were underway, the clinic lived on. Thanks to our partners, we found temporary homes. DniproLab offered space for consultations, and SoulSpa (at 90 Antonovycha St.) provided offices for our specialists. Even though much of our equipment was still being repaired, we never stopped seeing patients.
We communicated constantly—through social media, video updates, and banners. Our marketing team was instrumental here; they helped us organize every move, update patients on our locations, and maintain a consistent strategy. Their advice was spot on, and their support was invaluable. People saw that we weren’t quitting, and they supported us every step of the way. When we finally returned to our original location at 72 Antonovycha St., our patients returned with us.
Three Months to Rebirth
March 20 is a date we will never forget. That was the day we reopened the doors of the new BG LAB. In three months, we went from ruins to new walls, from broken windows to light-filled offices. From destruction to life.
This was possible only through the support of our partners. Medical Laser provided equipment on installment; Protect Solution repaired our ultrasound machine for free; Cosmo Trade performed a massive restoration of our broken hardware. SpaLand, ANK, and DMK helped with everything from furniture and supplies to labor.
Even if some equipment was lost forever, and even if some touch-screens still bear scratches—we are working. And we are grateful to everyone who helped us stand again.
A City That Breathes After the Blows
Every day, I looked at Kyiv—wounded but alive. Buildings were being repaired, windows were lighting up again, and cafes were brewing coffee. People were returning to life, and so were we. New walls, same heart.
I saw how beauty became a form of resistance. Because beauty isn’t about perfection; it’s about dignity. It’s about caring for oneself even in the midst of war. It’s about the right to a normal life.
To those standing before the abyss, here is what I’ve learned:
- Don’t be naive. The state is a bureaucracy of silent systems. In a crisis, expect protocols, not necessarily help. Act for yourself. Real support comes from people, not offices.
- Speak your pain. Create awareness—not for pity, but for action. People want to help; they just need to know how. Your words are the threads that hold everything together.
- Don’t cling to the past. If you lose something, adapt. Optimize, change your approach, rewrite your pricing, or find new partners. This isn’t defeat; it’s survival. And in war, survival is a victory.
- Stand with your team. Don’t disappear. Your presence and leadership are their anchor. People follow the leader who stands beside them when it’s terrifying.
- Don’t lose yourself. We are exhausted and wounded, but we are alive. Entrepreneurs and healthcare workers rebuilding from the shards—we are the Ukraine that holds on.
The Ending We Deserved
BG LAB is back at 72 Antonovycha St. We stood our ground. We became stronger. If you are standing among ruins right now, know this: you can build something new from them. Something real. Something even more beautiful, because it will be built with love.
About:
“BG Lab” – founded in 2016, BG Lab specializes in injection therapy, cosmetology, dermatosurgery, liposuction, trichology, and aesthetic gynecology. Our mission is to safeguard beauty and youth. To date, the center has served over 12,080 clients and maintains a 4.7 Google rating with 199 reviews.
Source: interfax
