As a little girl, she dreamed of helping people to stand up, move without pain and feel the freedom of their bodies again. Her grandmother, who had difficulty walking because of her illness, was her first inspiration. Kaja helped her every day with her exercises, encouraged her and looked forward to every little step and progress she made. When she saw the smile on her face, she felt something immeasurably beautiful inside - the feeling that she could make someone's "suffering" easier.
When she opened her own physiotherapy practice, she knew that she didn't just want to work, she wanted to (also) help. She wants to be the one to give back hope.
On a Monday in March, an exhausted mother walks through the door of her surgery holding the hand of a tiny baby girl. The girl's name was Marusha. Maruša had big, bright eyes in which you could see pain, but also a glimmer of unquenched passion. Passion for that something you "live" for.
At the age of 12, she should have been jumping, running, dancing - but instead all she could do was sit desperately in a chair, helplessly holding her hand on her recently injured knee.
"The doctors say she needs therapies to be able to dance again, lots of therapies... but..." her mother's voice cracks and tears slide down her cheeks. "We can't afford that kind of expense. Not to the extent of the therapies she would need to recover."
Kaya feels a lump in her throat. A whimper. She looks at Marusha, who smiles shyly at her, though her lips are trembling. She feels the weight of Marusha's mother's worries, but she also feels Marusha's pain -- not just the physical pain, but the deep pain of helplessness.
In a "soft" voice, she smiles at Marusha and says: "You know, when I was little, I had a grandmother who couldn't walk. We worked together, a little every day, and one day she walked again without pain. And you will dance again. I promise."
Kaja just bends down slightly and puts her hand on Marusha's tiny hand. "Don't worry about the cost. It's important that Maruša gets the therapy she needs. I'm doing this because I believe everyone deserves a second chance."
Marusha's eyes fill with tears. For the first time in a long time, she smiles - a real smile.
So begins their therapy. Little by little, day by day. Sometimes it is difficult, often Maruša's despair is present. But Kaja is always there, patient, gentle, with a calm voice that encourages her and says: "Look how far you have come. Just a little more, dear Maruša, just a little more."
Months pass and a cold October evening arrives when Kaja receives a message. Video. Maruša is on stage, dressed in a delicate white dress, her feet moving in perfect harmony with the music. Dancer. So light, as if she had never been "chained" to pain. And in that moment, Kaja knows that her mission is accomplished.
Every year since then, she has donated a few therapies to those who need them most. Not for money. Not for recognition. But because he believes that everyone deserves the chance to get up again, to live again and to dance through life again.
Zala Krupljan, 20. 2. 2025