Advice for Patients
Kindness Amidst the Conflict
Jerry Gore, a passionate climber and humanitarian, shares his experiences during a harrowing journey cycling from London to Kyiv to raise awareness and funds for children with T1D (Type 1 Diabetes) living in war-torn Ukraine. He sheds light on the impact of the Ukraine war while inspiring kindness and compassion along the way.
As Paul and I cycled away from the Prime Meridian in London's Greenwich Park, I reflected on what we were just about to do - a 3,000Km cycle ride from the safety of western Europe to war-torn Kyiv in the middle of Ukraine. The Prime Meridian represents global unity and human connection across time zones and countries. In a nutshell, that was our mission: to unite the European cycling and diabetes communities and bring a message of hope and solidarity to those Ukrainians who shared the same chronic health condition as I did -- T1D (Type 1 Diabetes). We also wanted to raise money to buy specialist diabetes equipment for displaced T1D children across the country.
I had started planning the logistics and organisation back in January 2023. It was now the 26th of August 2023, one and a half years since the illegal Russian invasion. I had heard from many sources that the country was now a shadowed realm. Would we experience the realities of this stricken country, or fail to even reach its borders? I looked across at Paul and smiled nervously.
I had only met this giant of a man once, just for 30 minutes at a barbecue in the Southern Alps. Neither of us had cycled anything even close to this distance before. Would we survive, would our friendship endure, and would we make it to Kyiv together? Would our ride make any difference to anyone, and would my diabetes condition affect me and prevent me from continuing? Paul smiled back and we pushed our pedals on the first day of what turned out to be an epic adventure.
Every year since 2003 I have undertaken what I call a JIC -- Jerry's Insulin Challenge -- to raise money for impoverished children with Type 1 Diabetes. But 2023 was different. I had tracked and followed the war in Ukraine ever since the start and it had really got under my skin. I had to do something. So, in 2023 I changed tack a little and RideUkraine 2023 was the result.
Whether it's divorce, disease, family disasters or war, I feel only real pain and sorrow for the children affected. They have no defence, no experience and no understanding to be able to cope with suffering and hardship. I could only guess at the level of fear and anxiety an eight-year-old child with T1D would feel in the midst of this illegal and terrifying invasion. I would soon find out.
Preparation and Planning
I live in the Southern Alps, and by pure chance at a dinner in early June that year, I sat next to Paul. I had never met him before, and we started to chat about our lives. Paul is a maintenance man, great at anything practical like plumbing, mechanics and electronics. He had only ever cycled short distances for fun, had never done any bikepacking adventures, had not travelled much, had never been to Eastern Europe, and spoke just one language. And that was very definitely English!
In contrast, I am an entrepreneur. Together with my wife Jackie, we moved our young family to France in 2003 following my T1D diagnosis. I've travelled extensively on numerous climbing expeditions since the late 1970s, speak several languages, and have dual French and British nationality. Paul and I were VERY different, but we didn't know that then. Everything comes out on a long-distance bikepacking adventure!
We were riding into a war zone, so I decided we should be well prepared. I carried a light bike maintenance kit, while Paul carried a far more comprehensive and heavier set of tools and spares. We also carried medical supplies including tourniquets and "Israeli bandages" designed to stop haemorrhaging wounds. I also carried my insulin, needles, and blood-sugar testing kits. My "luxury" item was Specialized's best long-distance road bike saddle. Paul's was two pints of beer every night!
I had been planning the logistics since January 2023. Paul confirmed his participation in early July, buying a second-hand bike for €480 and second-hand panniers. He had just 3 weeks to train, doing 50Km circuits three times a week. It was a gamble we would only know we had won when we reached Kyiv.
The Route
I planned the route to be as direct as possible across Europe, based around the EuroVelo 4 cycle path -- The Central Europe Route. We would cycle back roads to Dover, take the ferry to Dunkirk, and then cycle through France into Belgium, up to Eindhoven in Holland and straight across Germany to Dresden. From there we would drop into Czechia to Prague and continue west. At Ostrava we would cross into Southern Poland and then continue east to the Ukraine border. In Lviv we would meet our Ukrainian cycling guide Alex and our Ukrainian co-lead Dr. Iryna Vlasenko. From Lviv it would be another 700Km to Kyiv.
For accommodation, I chose an assortment of options -- Booking.com, Airbnb, WarmShowers, local friends and members of the European division of The International Diabetes Federation. I planned the route using Strava and downloaded each day onto my Wahoo Roam 2. I would book accommodation as we cycled, two nights in advance, and once we arrived in the vicinity, Paul would navigate the last portion using Google Maps.
The Journey Begins
The first stage was London to Dover, about 150Km using back roads. It rained incessantly throughout! We had about 30 volunteers, friends and family to see us off. Just 20 minutes after leaving Greenwich we passed a horrendous car accident, a salient reminder of what potentially lay ahead.
The great news was that a cohesive organizing committee for RideUkraine had formed, proving essential as they generated thousands of followers on social media and a lot of support on our ride across Europe. I had tried various contacts without success but eventually found the perfect lead co-ordinator - Dr. Iryna Vlasenko, a Ukrainian with T1D and Vice President of IDF (The International Diabetes Federation). She immediately understood our mission and helped coordinate with partners including Direct Relief and IDF Europe.
After our triumphant departure from London, we arrived in Dover soaked, tired, and with a strong sense of loneliness as it was just Paul and I from now on. But our adventure had truly begun. The ferry to Dunkirk was fast and easy, and we were soon onto sandy trails along the French section of the EuroVelo Maritime Coast route. Within two days we were in Holland heading west for Germany, loving the peace, calm and security of the endless cycle paths. Although we were averaging 140Km a day, Paul was suffering badly.
Weighing 114Kg, Paul didn't have the ideal build for long-distance endurance events. He struggled manfully with few complaints, but his low-cost bike setup started causing problems. In Holland, the sole of Paul's shoe fell off. We found a local bike shop where the owners treated us with remarkable hospitality, inviting us into their huge premises, telling us to "put your bikes anywhere," and serving us free coffee.
Challenges Along the Way
One of the daily issues was my hypoglaecemic attacks. Counting grams of carbohydrates is impossible on a bikepack when every single meal is different. Plus, we were consuming up to 5,000 calories a day from a huge and diverse array of sources - country to country, “event to event” and from local supermarkets to unexpected home visits. Breakfast could be a full English to virtually nothing in a bid to “get going” that day. A morning snack could be a huge slice of cake and coffee or a measly cereal bar. Lunch stops would range from local supermarkets to buy “plastic” sandwiches”, to an invitation to a local hunters lodge and treated to wild venison and rich creamy sauces laden with potatoes. Evenings would often be a late-night kebab or pizza, after a 14-hour cycle. That is a Diabetic nightmare, so every day I had to simply guess how much insulin I needed. Riding big distances each day you become super insulin sensitivity so just one-half unit of Humalog (I use children’s cartridges) too much might cause a hypo within an hour.
I regularly experienced minor hypos and hypers throughout the ride. When doing multi-day endurance events like climbing expeditions to counteract bad hypos, I run myself artificially high. Generally, I avoid or reduce the quantities of heavy carbs like bread and potatoes and eat a lot of protein and fat, as well as vegetables for nutrition. Typically during RideUkraine I would eat a slice of cake with my morning coffee, but avoided any dessert if available in the evening, to stop bad sugar spikes. My usual HbA1c over the years is around 6.8% (60 mmol/mol), but on this challenge, my HbA1c was recorded at 7.6% (60 mmol/mol), 2 weeks after the end of the challenge. But it was back down to under 7% within 6 weeks.
To counter each hypo, I always carried fast-acting carbs on the ride. My go-to are twix bars because they get my sugars up fast but keep them elevated as I continue to cycle. For me honey or mars bar are useless as they are basically empty calories. It's a constant balance that could make me very grumpy at times. Paul had never dealt with T1Ds before, and now he faced one 24/7 during a long-distance endurance event. Beer was our nightly solution, and often we collapsed onto our beds happy, but absolutely shattered from the day's emotional and physical demands. That in itself was a problem because as we all know not all beers are liquid bread – yet another T1D challenge!
I became very insulin sensitive cycling averaging more than 120km a day. So, I had to reduce my basal dose from 12 units of Levemir in the morning and again in the evening to just 3 units of Levemir in the morning and 8 units of Levemir in the evening. For bolus insulin when not cycling, I would normally take around 5 or 6 units of Humalog before each meal. But on the cycle, I found that whatever I consumed, at those levels I would normally go hypoglaecemic within 2 hours of riding again. So I had to reduce it alot. To avoid going hypo around 2am in the morning (my normal night time low period) I would set the alarm for this time to check sugar levels. This was where I found my Freestyle Libre CGM extremely useful. But I also used a Contour Next BGM a lot for comparison and back up.
I am very reactive by nature. So, to stop myself injecting when my sugars were rising quickly, I would use the BGM to verify exactly where I was. During the cycle my solution was to inject a standard amount (normally 2.5 units of Humalog) of bolus insulin before every meal. And then test hourly afterwards using my Freestyle Libre blue-toothed to my smartphone. If I was smarter I would have my BGM linked to a smartwatch. Next time!
Managing my blood sugar levels whilst consuming so many calories a day, was one of my main priorities. The accommodation, navigation, and daily event publicity were the others. But the good news was that Paul, and I began to gel as we got closer to Kiev. Our bruises, hypos, and bike mechanicals were incidental in comparison to the beauty of the towns, villages and landscape of Central and Eastern Europe. And definitely zero in comparison with what lay ahead in Ukraine.
In Ghent, Belgium, we had both great and awful experiences. We met a team of T1D cyclists from our IDF Europe connections, including a 12-year-old boy with T1D. We rode together for a few hours, sharing stories and feeling the camaraderie and solidarity. The boy's father thanked me warmly for inspiring his son. What wasn't beautiful was when Paul got his wheels caught in tram lines and fell off.
Paul was badly bruised but thankfully nothing was broken. Sadly, soon after this he had his first puncture, and this continued every day for the next 2 weeks, averaging 2-3 punctures daily. Each time Paul would repair without complaint whatever broke on his bike - panniers, punctures, shoe cleats - but I wasn't happy to enter Ukraine knowing we might have to regularly stop for repairs. Finally, the problem was diagnosed by a bike shop in Rzeszów, Poland: bad rim taping on Paul's wheels was causing pressure on the spokes, routinely splitting his inner tubes from the inside.
Deeper Into Europe
Just after Essen in Germany, we experienced how divided Germany is regarding the Russian invasion. In Duisburg, a pedestrian shouted, "I don't like fascists!" at us. "Neither do I!" I shouted back. Later, another pedestrian tried to force Paul into a barrier at 25km/h.
The section from Neheim to Kassel in central Germany was tough. It rained all day! We hit a nasty 10km section of gravel in pouring rain, which damaged our disc brakes. After 10 hours of cycling in heavy rain, we couldn't reach our destination, and I had to search for new accommodation while soaked and very cold. Finally, I found a lodge that was still open with a spare bed and couch. Heaven!
The next day didn’t start well either. My blood sugar went down straight after breakfast because I mistakenly injected too much insulin so now on a full breakfast stomach, I had to start eating again. As my blood sugars dropped, so did my mood. I started arguing with Paul, and soon I was too weak to keep up with him and he faded into the distance. I stopped in the middle of a forest section. I just ate two cereal bars and felt angry. Paul phoned me and asked me where I was. Eventually my sugars rose, and I caught up with him. We found a coffee shop soon after, sat down and talked it through. I apologised for having the hypo and being so argumentative. He understood completely. We hugged and went to a supermarket. I restocked on cereal bars, and we cycled on.
Eventually after leaving the beautiful city of Dresden, we crossed the border into the Czech Republic and shortly arrived in Prague. All my family on my mother’s side were born and raised in this amazing city, and all were destroyed during WW2. Nazis then Russians took care of that.
Meanwhile, our team of organizers and social media volunteers were raising money and awareness. Paul's partner Jayne was organizing fundraising events almost daily, raising £hundreds from afternoon tea’s to ice-skating events!
Approaching Auschwitz in Poland, we saw gloomy brick prison-like accommodation blocks. This was our first view of the concentration camp, and I immediately felt a lump in my throat as tears rolled down my cheeks. Many of my mother's family had ended up there. The next morning, after Paul repaired his bike at a local shop, we toured Auschwitz. The experience was deeply moving, bringing home the need to fight for what you believe in - exactly what RideUkraine was about. What struck me most was how Putin's invasion embodied Hitler's 'Lebensraum' concept of expanding his empire to take lands he felt were rightfully his.
A classic “T1D disaster day” happened in Southern Poland, cycling from Krakow to Tarnow (105km). Paul and I got up late after a terrible night’s sleep due to a hot, noisy apartment in the centre of the city. By 11am, my sugars started going low. We stopped at a coffee shop for pastry and pizza, and very quickly, my glucose levels went sky-high. I injected one more unit of insulin and cycled hard for an hour to try to bring the levels down. By mid-afternoon we were on a smooth bike track that followed the motorway into Tarnow, and as we cycled along a deserted 20km section my glucose levels started to drop. I had already chewed my way through four cereal bars and now I was down to the last one. I was desperate for more carbs and told Paul I really needed food. We eventually found a petrol station. Paul went in to buy some coke and whilst waiting outside I was confronted by a large group of party goers who were next door at wedding party. I was invited in and immediately given vodka and people started dancing with me. Bemused, Paul eventually found me and gave me the orange juice he had kindly bought me, and within 30 minutes we were the life and soul of a very rowdy party. Being included in a huge extended family, plied with vodka and Polish delicacies and dancing for hours was just an amazing experience but very hard to manage with T1D. By now it was about 18.00hrs and the sun was setting so we had to then cycle on as there was still another 20km to go to our accommodation. Soon we found themselves passing teenage drug dealers and addicts via dark streets littered with broken glass on the deserted outskirts of the city. Battling the effects of the afternoon hypo and then all that vodka and cake we cycled on through the night-time streets of Tarnow. Eventually we found the gite, settled in quickly, cleaned the bikes and then went in search of dinner. Around 11pm I had to guess what a kebab and chips would do to my battered body and my night time blood sugar levels. We got to bed just before midnight. Miraculously I guessed right with my “before bed bolus” and woke up the next morning at 150mg/dl. Success!
Our time in Southern Poland was amazing despite all the challenges. The cycle paths were amazing, the people welcoming, and the mood hugely positive. We met members of the Polish Diabetes Association, received gifts and medals of courage, and heard stories about volunteer groups that lined up at the border to welcome, feed and accommodate Ukrainian refugees at the start of the war.
Entering Ukraine
The day before entering Ukraine, tensions rose as we faced our final challenges in Poland. Paul's rear luggage rack fell apart after hitting a culvert, and his continuing punctures were sapping his energy. A small incident - I accidentally spat while riding and it hit Paul - led to a big argument. By the time we reached our accommodation in Budomierz, he had stopped talking to me. I knew I had to intervene, or he might abandon the journey. I reminded him our ride wasn't about us but about helping innocent children. Eventually he agreed, and we reconciled over dinner and drinks.
We left at 6:30am for the border crossing. After initially being told we couldn't take bikes through that checkpoint, a border guard eventually took pity on us. The ride from the border to Lviv was one of the most terrifying experiences of my life. For five hours, we cycled along busy main roads in pouring rain with lorries roaring past, often forcing us off the road completely. Paul was attacked by two dogs, managing to fend them off. Along the roadside, we saw damaged vehicles, and ambulances whizzed past regularly.
We reached Lviv in darkness, where I fell off my bike for the first time when my wheels caught in a tram line. I bounced back up and grabbed my bike before it was crushed by a passing lorry. Several lorries had giant spikes attached to their wheel hubs - clearly designed as weapons against other vehicles. Everywhere around us was evidence of war - buildings badly damaged or destroyed by bombs and drone attacks.
Unable to access mobile networks, we were helped by a kind English-speaking woman we met in a supermarket. She walked with us 2km to our accommodation where we met Dougal Glaisher, another T1D athlete. He told us about the Ukrainians who want British right-hand drive cars. They put dummies on the left-hand side, so that Russian snipers hit the dummies. And we learned about the hundreds of thousands of IDPs (internally displaced persons) throughout Ukraine. The next day we joined a convoy of Siobhan's Trust pizza trucks to an area on the outskirts of Lviv where many IDPs have been adopted by the community. This UK-created charity works with local community and church groups to provide food and to boost morale among the displaced Ukrainians. One story stuck with me, about a 14-year-old boy who escaped Mariupol with his cancer-stricken mother, only for her to die in surgery, leaving him orphaned.
I spoke to many Ukrainians in Lviv. One woman cried when she told me how much she was looking forward to seeing her husband next week. First time in a year. They have two children under 8 years old. Ukraine Soldiers get only 10 days a year to go home and see their families – usually that means three days to travel and one week at home.
Ukraine has one of highest rates of civilian casualties from landmines and unexploded ordnances in the world and ranks the highest for anti-vehicle mine incidents. As of April 2023, it was estimated that approximately 174,000 square kilometres of Ukrainian territory are contaminated by landmines. Now it is far greater, and it will take a generation to clear them.
We spent four days in Lviv, recovering before our final push to Kyiv. We met with diabetes specialists who told us about the rapid increase in juvenile onset T1D, clearly stress-related. We did numerous interviews for Ukrainian media, and I spoke at the start of a big Ukrainian Diabetes Conference.
During our time in Lviv, we heard many stories about the war's impact. The most compelling came from Alicia - the woman who guided us through the city on our first night. She and her family had sheltered in underground tunnels when Russians invaded Mykolaiv Oblast in Southern Ukraine. They lived underground for six months, surviving on bread, jam and rainwater. Many of their friends were captured, raped, tortured and murdered. Alicia said: "This war has brought out the best in some people and the worst in others... But this war united Ukrainians everywhere."
At the start of the war approximately 130,000 people with type 1 diabetes and over 2.3 million with type 2 diabetes in Ukraine faced inconsistent access to insulin, supplies, medical professionals and diabetes care. Many of the estimated 15 to 20,000 children with type 1 and their families fled westward to other more stable European countries as refugees. But now in Lviv we saw a lot of evidence of Ukrainian women with T1D children who have returned to their homeland and struggle to deal with such a complex condition in a war zone.
The main distribution channels for insulin and diabetes supplies in Ukraine are being coordinated through the Ukrainian Ministry of Health, according to Dr. Iryna Vlasenko, our RideUkraine Project Coordinator. And the main problem today is still to get crucial medications to regions in active combat areas. While humanitarian corridors are requested for both civilian escape and emergency medical supply delivery, they are not always safe. Supplies of insulin and other specialist diabetes medication is being brought into Ukraine as part of sanctioned humanitarian efforts, including a comprehensive coordination effort between Direct Relief, International Diabetes Federation (IDF), IDF Europe and the Ukrainian Ministry of Health. The monies we raised from the RideUkraine challenge went towards this initiative.
Once in Ukraine we started witnessing firsthand the effect of the huge increased levels of stress especially on the young as a direct result of this war, especially from the effects of intense shelling. We heard tales of children who contracted T1D as a result of hearing about what happened to their friends who had been raped and tortured by Russian soldiers. One mother called Anna, told us about her 12-year-old son called Danilo, who contracted T1D in June 2022 as a direct result of stress when his classmate called him from Bucha following the Russian invasion and asked for help saying she was naked with Russian soldiers and her parents had been killed. The mother's work colleagues took the girl abroad, but she died in October last year. Danilo could not handle this news. He was not ready for this and T1D was the result.
Another woman, Katya Sovyak, founder of the Ukrainian charity Betavision - A T1D diabetes foundation to help Ukrainian children with T1D receive better treatment - told us about how she supplied insulin and test strips to children with T1D inside the Azovstal Iron and Steel Works in occupied Mariupol - Katya sent insulin and strips to the Ukrainian military who delivered insulin using military resources to 6 – 10 year old boys in the Azovstal steel works. The children were inside the steel works from 18 March to 20 May 2022. Supplies were sent weekly, and they succeeded in keeping these boys alive throughout this very dark period.
We also met family carers whose daily lives were a living nightmare trying to balance their children’s sugar levels whilst living in a warzone. One story especially illustrated this. A mother called Natalia told us about her experiences of being forced to live in an air raid shelter four nights a week out of seven with her 11-year-old son Artem. Natalia was forced to buy nappies (pampers) as her son was constantly frightened and could not control his bowels. Another carer said that often there was no time to go to the toilet before descending to air raid shelters, so she also needed nappies as her 12-year-old daughter was shy and did not want to use the toilet bucket in the shelter.
Lviv to Kyiv
In Lviv, we also met our guide Alex; a professional cyclist whose job was to get us safely to Kyiv. He knew the safe areas to cycle, where landmines had been laid, and importantly for Paul, also had a huge thirst for beer!
Our last day in Lviv concluded at the Diabetes conference, with moving speeches from both delegates and the Mayor of Lviv. He presented Paul and I with civilian medals of honour.
The journey to Kyiv was gruelling. We covered 185km and almost 1,000m of elevation on our first day out of Lviv, including off-road riding not suited to our skinny road tires. We practiced "drafting" - one person riding hard for 10 minutes, then the next taking their place in rotation. It's efficient but requires intense focus, riding with wheels only inches from the person ahead at speeds up to 40 km/h.
The landscape was incredibly rural, with more horses and carts than cars. Everywhere we went, when we explained our mission, people gave us money for our cause - mostly €10 or less, but it meant so much. We witnessed a church funeral for a teenage local killed by a Russian bullet, another innocent life lost.
Each night we slept no more than 3 or 4 hours - the sound of drones and massive missile attacks keeping us all awake. Bomb attacks in Ukrainian towns and cities can often last between 4 and 7 hours. One mother told me her son’s blood sugar levels were always high – around 15mmols of sugar or higher – as a result of the effects of stress hormones during the bombing raids. Diabetes is, of course, a stress-related condition. And war results in constant stress and this is already resulting in a dramatic increase in T1D diagnosis, especially amongst children. One hospital we visited in Lviv – Chornobyl’s Ka Likarnya, or Western Ukrainian Specialized Children’s Medical Centre - told us they had up to two new diagnosed cases of T1D children every week since last October 2022. Hard to know for certain, but current research estimates there are around 20,000 Ukrainian children living with T1D. According to the JDRF Type 1 Diabetes Index ( https://www.t1dindex.org/count...) 145,693 people in Ukraine would still be alive if they had not died early due to diabetes complications.
Our final day was the hardest yet - more than 190km of riding, with a final push through Kyiv's hectic streets at night. We started at 7:30am on busy main roads in heavy traffic. After fast riding for three hours, we turned off to visit Andriivka, Borodianka, and Bucha - towns where Russians tried to break through to Kyiv at the start of the invasion. When they couldn't penetrate and take Kyiv, they reduced these places to rubble, committing numerous war crimes against citizens - torture, rape, indiscriminate killings. In Bucha alone, 458 bodies were recovered, including nine children.
As we cycled on restricted roads, we passed warning signs of landmines and saw mine clearance personnel at work nearby. I passed a lone woman on the road and instinctively reached out to take her hand. The scenes of intense violence screamed out from the broken and destroyed houses around us. The woman's eyes said everything - so much pain, so much sadness. I cycled on, sobbing, feeling totally inadequate.
Soon we were through Irpin and into Kyiv's outskirts. We were joined by Denys from the Kyiv Randonneurs - long-distance cyclists who regularly ride over 200km just for exercise. Those final kilometres were the scariest, fastest, and wildest of our entire journey. Kyiv traffic is chaotic, but we moved quickly, crossing the famous bridge blown up by Ukrainians to stop the Russian advance, passing a Banksy graffiti memorial, and finally reaching University Square - the centre of Kyiv and the end of our journey. We had done it! The cycling part of RideUkraine 2023 was finished, and so were we. Time for pizza, beers and a little insulin….but not too much!
Impact and Reflection
We spent another four days in Kyiv doing presentations, visiting hospitals, inspiring children with T1D, and meeting government ministers. We spoke directly to the Minister of Health about the issues facing children with T1D - their vulnerability and how stress itself contributes to this autoimmune condition. Together with Dr. Vlasenko and many Ukrainian healthcare professionals, we raised awareness, united European diabetes communities, and brought hope to those sharing our chronic condition. In total, we raised more than $25,000 to buy much needed specialist T1D medication and equipment.
In total over 300 cyclists and supporters contributed to RideUkraine 2023. In France we met with Martine Delabre, President of the Association des Diabétiques de Flandre Maritime and members of the Fédération Francaise des Diabétiques and had an article published in the e-magazine “Glucose toujours”. In Belgium the core RideUkraine team cycled with young Belgium T1D cyclists and met members of Belgian diabetes associations including members of the Diabetes Liga running/cycling team. In Germany we were hosted by cyclists with Diabetes and had newspaper articles written about our challenge, as well as doing an interview streamed live internationally by https://www.dedoc.org/ - the online international community by and for people with diabetes. In Poland RideUkraine cyclists were involved in a series of meetings and presentations including medals and presents with the president and members of the Polish Diabetic Association, and the Silesian Board
I will always remember the amazing Ukrainians we met - their strength, humour, beauty, courage, and resourcefulness in battling an enemy far larger than themselves. More than 85% of Ukrainians know friends, family, or colleagues who have died or been wounded fighting against the Russians. What struck me most were the everyday civilians - mothers, fathers, students, workers - who had dropped everything to defend their country. What a privilege to meet these brave people in their homeland!
