
My son, Yevhenii, was born on May 25, 1996. Before the war, he worked in Poland for three years. He was a kind, calm, and hard-working young man. He dreamed of starting a family and having children.

When the war began, on February 25, 2022, he was already back in Ukraine — he didn’t hesitate for a moment and immediately returned home. On March 8, he went to the military enlistment office and volunteered to join the territorial defense of our village. Later, he was assigned to serve in the 115th Brigade, where he operated a 120-mm mortar.
His call sign was ZHEKA.
He fought in difficult areas — Donetsk, Sievierodonetsk. His messages were always short: “Everything’s fine,” just to keep me from worrying.
On August 23, 2022, near the village of Spartak, close to the Donetsk airport, during heavy shelling, Zhenia suffered a mine-blast injury. Shrapnel wounded his head and both legs.
His brothers-in-arms — Serhii, Ivan, and Artem — carried him out under fire and brought him to a hospital.
A friend of his came to our home and said only: “Zhenia is wounded…” — and nothing more. I started calling every hospital until I finally learned that he was in Dnipro, at Mechnikov Hospital.

Zhenia was in a coma for four days. He underwent brain surgery — doctors tried to reduce intracranial pressure. A week later, he was flown by helicopter to Kyiv, to the Romodanov Institute of Neurosurgery. On September 6, he underwent another surgery — doctors removed a fragment from the back of his head. Later, they installed two shunts because the brain ventricles that circulate cerebrospinal fluid had stopped functioning. We stayed there from September 3, 2022, to January 20, 2023.
After that began the long road of rehabilitation.
First, we were sent to Tsybli, then to Kyiv, to the Adonis clinic — we felt comfortable there, but suddenly Zhenia’s kidney condition worsened, and we were transferred to the Kyiv Military Hospital. That’s where the real ordeal began. The care was poor, the attitude — terrifying. They intimidated him, and I feared he would not survive.
The doctor said bluntly: “He will neither walk, nor talk, nor sit. Take him outside at least, so he can see some fresh air.”
I replied: “No! That will not happen. My son will live.”
Then a nurse came up quietly and whispered: “Take him out of here while he’s still alive…”
That’s how we ended up in a hospital in Lviv. Within two weeks, he developed severe bedsores that took a year to heal. He weighed 37 kilograms. We left Lviv for Cherkasy, where he was admitted to a palliative care unit.
No other hospital would take us — the doctor at Cherkasy City Hospital No. 3 said: “We don’t take such patients.” But I didn’t give up. I found volunteers who, after much struggle, helped transfer us to the Cherkasy Regional Hospital.
In Lviv, I had begged a urologist to examine his kidney — he just waved his hand. In Cherkasy, they told me the kidney had rotted because the stent should have been removed back in Lviv.
Then came Modrychi. Zhenia was in critical condition, with deep bedsores.
I kept calling the Ministry of Health hotline, pleading to send us abroad for treatment. Finally, we were heard — and we were sent to Croatia.
We stayed there for six months. Zhenia was literally brought back from the brink of death — doctors treated all the infections he had caught in hospitals, healed his wounds, and stabilized his condition. When we were leaving, the doctor said:
“He has been born again.”

After that, we came to the AGAPE Rehabilitation Center. The first days were very hard. It was there that Zhenia learned again to talk, sit, and walk. He slowly began to recognize family members and recall their names. He remembers nothing about the war.
But we do not give up. I have been by his side since the day he was wounded. Together we have gone through dozens of hospitals, indifference, pain, sleepless nights — and small victories.
Now every step he takes is a miracle.
Once, already at home, as we were walking down the road, a piece of shrapnel came out of his leg on its own — a chunk of metal the size of half a matchbox. I thought it was just a blister from training, but when I saw the metal, my hands started trembling. In that moment I realized again: the war doesn’t end, even when your son is standing beside you.
Ahead lies another surgery in Kyiv — to fix his leg so it won’t hang down. Zhenia fights every day. He wants to walk again, to speak, to live like everyone else. He once dreamed of having a son — Alyosha. I so deeply wish that one day he’ll say those words again.
Now he needs long-term specialized rehabilitation at the AGAPE center.
It is very expensive, but without it my son cannot move forward. We have already been through hell, but we do not give up.
I appeal to everyone reading this — please help my Yevhen.He deserves a full, active life.
Thank you to everyone who does not look away.
May God bless you.

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The fundraiser for our defender Yevhen Sytnyk has been successfully closed!
The rehabilitation at the “AGAPE” center has already been paid for, and Zhenya continues his recovery. Ahead lies a lot of work, strength training, new steps, and challenges — but now he’s walking this path not alone.
Yevhen underwent a rehabilitation course from September 20 to November 1, 2025 — 43 days of intensive recovery with his mother constantly by his side, helping him every step of the way.

Ahead are another 62 days of rehabilitation, during which Zhenya will continue working with specialists to strengthen his muscles, improve coordination and speech, and develop greater independence in daily activities.
We sincerely thank everyone who contributed — with donations, reposts, kind words, and simple human support.
Special thanks to Dobro.ua for assisting in organizing the fundraiser, “Vikna-Novyny” for informational support, and the team of specialists at the “AGAPE” rehabilitation center for their daily dedication, care, and already visible results.
Every contribution you made is a part of Zhenya’s recovery — his strength and his faith. There’s still a long road ahead, but it continues!
COLLECTED AND TRANSFERRED: UAH 419,000