Maria is around 40 years old. Together with her family, she lives in a small village just a few dozen kilometres from the front line. Locals used to measure the distance to the nearest large cities — Zaporizhzhia or Dnipro — now they measure how close they are to the positions of Russian troops.
‘When the war started, we planned to flee. We were already packing our things, but eventually decided to stay. Our son is 11, and he refused to go anywhere. I won't leave my husband, either. I would also feel bad about leaving behind my home. We would have had to leave it to someone or sell it’. Maria shares.
Living without a health clinic
For Maria, like many others, staying meant sacrifice. Her village no longer has a health clinic nor a pharmacy. An ambulance from a nearby city is the only form of medical assistance, which often cannot fulfil the day-to-day health needs.
In April, a mobile health clinic from the NGO FRIDA reached one of the communities in the Zaporizhzhia region for the first time in a very long time. The volunteers had to wait for military clearance as the region was deemed too dangerous. But eventually permission came, and so did the doctors. All made possible with support from the European Union and the German Federal Ministry for Economic Cooperation and Development.
For the villagers, the arrival of this health clinic felt like a lifeline.
They set up wherever the community can host them. Sometimes it is a hospital, this time it was a local school. Geography classrooms became opticians’ offices, and medicine was handed out in the teachers' lounge.
‘We like working in schools because they have everything we need’, shares the clinic's coordinator.
What sets such missions apart is their holistic approach: in one visit, patients can be seen by several specialists, often receiving more care in a day than they have in years.
‘I came to the clinic with bad anxiety. I visited an endocrinologist, had an ultrasound of my thyroid, a neurologist gave me recommendations, daily practices on how to remove anxiety, and prescribed medication’, shares Maria, as the emotional toll of the war finally caught up with her.
The mental health impact of the war is difficult to fully grasp. In Kyiv, far from the front line, over 74% of women reported a decline in well-being last year. In frontline villages like Maria’s, the number is most likely higher.
After speaking with a psychologist and getting help, Maria felt strong enough to take the next step. She saw a gynecologist for the first time since before her maternity leave.
‘The last time I was at the doctor’s was three years ago, before my maternity leave. Doctors here treat me very well, and I got the help I needed’.
Bringing healthcare and dignity to Ukraine’s most vulnerable
As if to support Maria’s words, a woman knocks on the doctor’s door during our conversation and brings the narcissus just cut from her garden as a thank-you. What stands out in every conversation with patients is simple, yet profound: they are treated here respectfully. This may seem basic, but it is critical for people who have not been in contact with healthcare professionals for years. Doctors say, ‘During the examinations, we give people a sense of dignity. Often, they just want to be heard and taken seriously’.
Maria’s story is one of many. During this visit alone, over 100 people received care. In places where doctors rarely come, serious conditions often go undetected - this time, several complex cases were caught in time for follow-up.
As of February 2025, 13 mobile missions reached 11 remote settlements across four frontline communities in Sumy and Zaporizhzhia oblasts. In total, 1,228 medical consultations were provided to 963 patients - 69% of them women and 17% persons with disabilities.
These numbers speak to the scale of need - and the power of bringing healthcare directly to those who would otherwise go without.
In areas where medical support is scarce and daily life is marked by risk and uncertainty, each visit is more than just a medical check-up. It’s a reminder that help is still coming - and hope is still possible.
