Lyudmila, a 66-year-old woman living near Kramatorsk in eastern Ukraine, anxiously awaits the arrival of a mobile medical team — one of the last remaining links to healthcare in a region shattered by war. Her son Maxim, paralyzed by a neurological illness, depends entirely on these rare visits for essential treatment. With the frontline only miles away, every ambulance arrival brings both hope and fear, as constant drone strikes and shelling threaten civilians and medical responders alike.
The team that visits Maxim — Doctor Victoria, nurse Alona, and driver Vitalii — is one of only three mobile health units still operating in the area. Once, there were eight such teams supported by humanitarian funding, delivering care to people unable to reach damaged or distant clinics. But widespread international funding cuts, especially from the U.S., forced the closure of most services in June, leaving thousands without access to lifesaving medical support. The remaining teams work with dwindling supplies, answering desperate calls from patients who need medicine, medical equipment, or basic care.
For families like Lyudmila’s, these visits are essential. Before the mobile teams existed, they risked dangerous journeys across active conflict zones seeking help — often only to be turned away by overwhelmed hospitals. Now, despite the air-raid sirens and constant threat of explosions, the medical team replaces Maxim’s catheter, monitors his condition, and provides comfort that the family cannot find anywhere else. Their presence brings dignity and survival to people trapped on the frontline.
Across eastern Ukraine, the healthcare system is on the brink of collapse. More than 2,000 attacks on medical facilities have been documented since 2022, leaving over 1,100 hospitals and clinics damaged or destroyed. Nearly 300 healthcare workers have been killed. Energy infrastructure attacks further disrupt whatever medical services remain. For people with chronic illnesses — cancer, diabetes, heart disease — losing access to basic treatment can quickly become fatal. Even manageable conditions spiral into emergencies without regular care.
Mobile teams, supported by CARE and local partners, have been crucial in delivering home-based treatment and preventing unnecessary deaths. But with shrinking funds, their reach has been drastically reduced. Instead of treating more than 100 patients per day, only a fraction now receive care. Many patients with life-threatening conditions are left waiting, hoping for help that may never come.
Healthcare workers face immense pressure, choosing daily between their own safety and the needs of their patients. Despite the danger, many continue to serve because they know that without them, countless people will die alone in their homes. Yet even their dedication cannot compensate for the lack of funding and resources.
The crisis is now at a breaking point. Without urgent international support, the last mobile teams may be forced to stop altogether, cutting off the final lifeline for vulnerable people like Maxim. For families living in frontline communities, survival depends on whether the world decides to keep supporting these essential services — or leave them without care in the middle of a war.
At her gate next week, Lyudmila will listen for the familiar sound of the ambulance. Whether it arrives depends not on the bravery of the medical team, but on whether the world chooses to keep Ukraine’s last door to healthcare open.
