She is no longer with us, but this is her story. It's mine too. It is the story of all of us who had the honour to share the last year with her. Urška taught us to be steadfast and grateful. Through humour and wise thoughts and with immense optimism. On her Facebook profile, which remains a memory and a reminder for me and for all of us, you can still see posts of this and that kind. She often made me laugh to tears and I am grateful for all her writings which, when I was in my distress and doubts, lifted me up and pushed me forward. They helped me not to give up when she could have. I have often received a dose of motivation from Urška. Throughout her last year, I shared laughter and tears with her.
But there is something much greater in her writings; the gratitude and respect expressed by a terminally ill person who does not give up. Gratitude for those of us who have accompanied and encouraged her since she was diagnosed, and some of us, especially Enesa Marković, have helped her physically and mentally. After her death, Enesa said to me: "But you know she wanted to write a book about it."
And immense trust and respect for doctors. She repeatedly pointed to Dr Ovniček, the oncologist, and the physiotherapists and nurses who literally got her back on her feet when she no longer wanted to walk on her own and when the pain took away her will to live.
"Courage! No surrender! Small steps to big victories!" has written many times. Some of her past writings are published in this story. For the rest of us. Urška, I am posting this in your memory, even though you have already posted all of this on your own profile. Authentic, honest, for eternity. Thank you for everything; for you, for your advice in the dog shop, for sharing your experience with your dog Zoja with me, for your favours in the shop. You know how it is; The Dog Fanciers with smell and then we are forever connected, until... death do us part.
Facebook notes:
Urška, 10 January 2025:
The post is a little longer. It's the kind for a cup of tea or coffee. But it is mine. On 11 June 2024, a period began when my steps stopped for a while (I could no longer walk), when I became totally dependent on the help of others for all my tasks and when my personal space disappeared. I will not write about how hard this is for someone who last depended on the help of others when he was a baby. There is a lot to go through. Then I was told in hospital that I had cancer and that chemotherapy would be necessary. More of the latter. An extraordinary emotional merry-go-round started to take place in my brain. F**k? What? Cancer after 22 years of dormancy? Why?
O.K.! Breathe! Breathe! Breathe! Breathe! Breathe! Breathe! Breathe! It doesn't matter why. What is, is. My brain needs resetto figure out how to move forward and to make a programme for that... It took me a while to get myself together, Reset my brain and made a plan; what to do, how to react, how to help myself and the doctors who want to help me, and stay positive about it all. I am not going to yammer ... I don't want to. Bad vibes don't bring positive things and it's too hard. My brain has been on the fritz since the summer programmed on the mantra small steps to small victories, which lead to big victories. I am fighting and I will continue to fight... Only those who have stood by me since the summer (and even they not entirely) and those of you who are in a similar situation know how difficult this fight is.
My first small step at the Oncology Institute was to get up and leave the hospital. The first step I took brought tears to my eyes, which made the physiotherapist scared in case something was wrong. After that, there were more and more steps, and the distance got bigger and bigger. Three days before discharge, the stairs came. "I know you don't have them at home, but let's try anyway, in case you come across them somewhere along the way," said the physiotherapist. The first plan she told me about at the end of the class was to walk up and down three flights of stairs. Khm ... Urška's crazy brain. It's not even worth getting out of bed for three flights of stairs. Instead, she prefers the whole staircase (ten steps up and ten steps down). Her brain forgot that you have to come down afterwards too. But we went down again. And in the end I was wet as if I had come out of a sauna and tired, so I slept half the afternoon.
Why am I writing? Because I feel I have to. I usually write while waiting, which happens a lot with Dr Ovčariček, who is an oncologist with a capital O and a doctor with a capital Z. By the way, since June, I have heard and experienced nothing but positive things from her. Let us leave the consequences of the therapy, because she also told me all about them and explained to me exactly what they were.
Some of us deal with our illness in one way or another. Maybe these posts will help someone, or maybe they already have. Maybe they are making it easier for them to live through their battle with illness. Maybe ... But above all, I don't want information to spread around about what is happening to me. The current situation is about 50:50. Borbam. Fejst. But I'm still here, the same as all the time; positive.
Thank the Universe, Fate or any other force for my stubborn character. Many people ask me where I get my will... I don't know, but sometimes even that container gets a little empty. That's when the comments under my posts and the private messages give me an extra dose of positive energy. It sounds very cliché, but it helps. And we move on.
Boris, Marjana, Enesa, my parents, Mirjana, Melita, Lenka, Mateja, Štefi ... I don't know if I can ever repay you for all your help. Enesa, we will always have that somewhich will make others look at us strangely. But this some is ours alone. Thank you to each and every one of you for all your responses.
Number 7 is considered lucky. Tomorrow is 11 January 2025. Many of you are looking forward to your baby, grandchild or pet being seven months old, but tomorrow I will be celebrating life - MY life.
Urška, 15 January 2025:
It is important to have blood drawn every time before you go to the oncologist, because the results - which, by the way, can take up to two hours, or even longer if it's crowded - can tell you what's going to happen next, and then the waiting begins.
The results will determine whether you get chemotherapy or not, and in what form, if any, it needs to be adjusted. If the results are at least approximately O.K., you will be given the therapy directly into the vein in the day hospital or on the ward (depending on how long it has been running). You can be treated with tablets or you can get an injection.
When the results are not O.K., you don't get chemotherapy. In this case, they first investigate what's wrong, so you stay on the ward for a few days, where your will and Positives on trial; if you have too much time, you think about a lot of things. Then it is urgent to Reset the brain. Again, it should be set up a system and move on. With small steps.
Luckily, I have a great oncologist (Dr Ovčariček) with whom I am navigating my road to recovery. She always makes sure that I never, but really never suffer, that I am not in pain ...
This time I'm still in the ward, we're still fixing anomaliesI still don't give up. Of course I would like to go home, but I am not going to force it because I know that will happen when everything is sorted out and I am better than I was on Monday.
Urška, 16 January 2025:
Tip for tomorrow: "Challenges can't stop you. People can't stop you. Time can't stop you. Only your own negative thoughts can stop you, so STAY POSITIVE."
Urška, 17 January 2025:
"Sometimes miracles happen when you stop worrying about how things will turn out."
The chemotherapy prepared for Monday finally coursed through my veins at 8pm and she went hunting behind cancer cells. There is no nausea, but I am a bit tired, which is normal given the strong and exhausting combination I am receiving. At least that's what the oncologists and nurses say.
But! Urška is not giving up, she is fighting, she is positive, but she also has the right to have bad days. Of course, your help, by sending positive vibrations and energy, helps a lot. So borbamo together and beyond. You know: small steps to big victories!
Because of some bad results, the oncologist also decided to do a CT scan of the chest and abdominal organs with contrast, which was done yesterday. The result? Very good. Yes, we read that right! All the values that were compared on the first follow-up CT scan and now on the autumn test have come down, so the oncologist and I can confirm for the time being that the therapy is working. It is also true that, unfortunately, cancer cells get used to certain chemotherapy drugs quite quickly, so they have to be changed.
I haven't won yet, but I am on the right track and I know that many people are following me and sending me positive energy and positive vibes, which gives me extra positive energy and strength to fight cancer.
Urška, 19 January 2025:
It is a priceless feeling when my neighbour's daughter (a nurse who has done her internship in the children's ward of an oncology institute and has seen a lot) comes to visit. She asked me how I was and said that her mother could help me even more. The second time she saw me, she said, "Madam, I admire you. I really do. How optimistic you are. Your eyes are shining with life."
I didn't know what to say, but I thanked her so much.
Urška, 24 January 2025:
And one last motivational one from the Oncology Institute for this month: "No one will stop you if you decide to grow. Be determined. Be willing. Be ready. Be confident."
I would add: always be positive!
P.S.: After a generous dose of platelets, which we called a bombardino cocktail, I'm going home.
Urška, 25 January 2025:
One day I will tell my story of what I have been through and what I have gone through, and maybe it will help someone to survive.
Urška, 27 January 2025:
We forget that we should be grateful for every day we wake up to it.
Being and staying positive doesn't mean you have to be happy all the time, but believing that even after the hard days, the better ones will come.
I risk my the blonde image. Well, now I'm grey-white, if the chemotherapy doesn't leave me hairless.
WTF is Dubai chocolate and why everyone says it's wow?
And when I know that, the world will go on turning. Hahahahaaaaa.
Urška, 1 February 2025:
A thought for the days when you're not at your best: "You can borrow my belief in you that you can do it, until you start believing it yourself."
Urška, 2 February 2025:
In nine days, it will be eight months since I battled cancer. Eight months of constant Positive without a bad day. Well, let me correct myself. Yes, there have been bad days. And already I can hear young Urška, the sheep of the horoscope: "No, not at all. I have never had bad days because I am always strong and never helpless." By the way, the feeling of powerlessness is currently something that is the hardest to deal with for someone who has never felt powerless.
Many would say that in eight months of struggle, I could have learnt that or come to terms with it. Feel free to try it yourself or no one is stopping you from trying it for yourself. Eight months of struggle wears you down both physically (the therapies and their side effects) and mentally (the side effects and the fatigue). I often shed tears because I am tired, and I cannot hold back those tears. Not tears of sadness, because that is harmful. Holding back tears is also damaging to the psyche and can start a vicious circle.
Am I angry because it's all been going on for so long? YES! Am I getting on my nerves with all the side effects I am suffering? YES! Do they get on my nerves when I am not allowed to receive a therapy for which I have already mentally prepared myself? YES! But I know that in this case the doctors are doing what is best for me. Do I know how to let my emotions out when necessary? NO!
The older sheep Urška would say to her younger counterpart: 'When you have cancer at 49, you have every right to have a good cry and send everyone to the Three Gorgeous Ones; for your own sake." Is this one jumbled text without a head and a tail? YES, IT IS! Why?
- Because it's all going through my head;
- Because you have to get it out of your head in some way;
- Because I have the right to have a bad day or week, just like other people with or without any diagnosis;
- Because I need to read and internalise what is written;
- Because I need my own kick up the arse, because I'm obviously in all my Positives forgetting about myself and the fact that I don't hide negative feelings;
- Because negative feelings need to be sent where they belong - as far away from me as possible.
A new goal: Reset the brain to accept that everything negative has to come out.
Me, 8 February 2025:
"Hey, our fighter, what's wrong with you???? Your smash I don't like." (I send her a heart and positive thoughts) A photo of the hospital door and a corner of the ceiling appeared on her page. Smash expressing intense weeping, heartbreak and sadness.
Me and Enesa, 11 February 2025:
Me: After that last post, I asked her what her smiley, and she didn't answer me.
Enesa Markovič, a man with a big "H", who was Urška's HELP and STRENGTH during her illness: "Today towards evening my husband called me. Yesterday I was not admitted to the hospital. I don't know. Something went wrong. We got on video chat every day. I should have seen her yesterday. There was no talk of an end. I don't know. Shock. Nothing out of nothing.
I'm sending you her last picture, which she sent me on Sunday. The last time we were on video chat, she almost said, because she couldn't take it anymore (but I attributed that to the pills and the sleeping pills), that she wanted me to tell her zaboga buy Spanbecause her hair is in her eyes. I said no, I'd better get her a headband, because that will be better.
For me, Urška's friend, her writings have helped me to get through many a stressful year and bad day. "Humour to the last. I think if there is an afterlife, she will be a famous comedian. And I hope we find each other again."
My farewell under that last, strange photo from the hospital, posted by Urška:
"Now I know why you didn't write me off in to the messengerwhy you didn't write it off here, why there was only an uncomfortable silence, which we are not used to with you ... Dear Urška, tell me, is it beautiful on the other side of the rainbow? Have you and Zoë (her dog, who left this world at an advanced age just two months ago) run into each other's arms? I miss your posts, your sharing of tasteless jokes and funny pictures, but above all your strong positive thoughts. We needed your optimism and your motivation to give back to you twice. But cancer is a strange animal. When it makes a decision, it cuts off definitively, without explanation, without mercy... Whatever you do, send me a signal from the other side..."
Thank you, Urška, for teaching me gratitude and respect. Life is too short.
Katja Mikula, 16. 4. 2025
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