Jung Tsai
Tony Bennett once sang of leaving his heart in San Francisco, captured forever by cable cars and morning fog. After two medical missions to Lviv and Kyiv in 2023 and 2025, I understand his sentiment — but for me, it is Ukraine that holds my heart.
When Russia launched its full-scale invasion on February 24, 2022, the world witnessed destruction of humanity unseen since World War II. In 2023, with limited private resources, we began medical missions to relieve suffering. There we learned that freedom is never free — and that Ukrainians are, in truth, taking the bullets for all who cherish democracy.
Some argued this was only “a European war” and that America should turn away. But we believed medicine should know no borders. So in 2025, under missile fire and the drone-filled skies of Kyiv, we returned. “Nothing ventured, nothing gained.” Our purpose was not only to heal but to stand in solidarity.
This mission was unique for mobile dental care. Modern dental chair provided to treat hundreds young soldiers with poor dental health along with gifts of tooth brushes and paste. Surgical team went to the largest Oncology hospital and were quite impressed about their skills and knowledges of cancer surgical care and we gave out potable Retinal eyes exams tool. Except DaVinci surgery, operation room equipment are impeccable and they no longer located in the basement as when the war started. Mobil Medical clinic consists of ENT, Pediatric, Pulmonary, Infectious, and Urologist. We devoted one afternoon to lecture Kyiv Medical University and online. In addition we delivered two sets of brand new hand held ultrasound to National Pediatric Hospital which was hitting by missile in 2024.
At the end of the day, what we saw was resilience. Panic had given way to resolve. Even as air raid sirens wailed and explosions shook the city, life carried on. On August 28, whole country including a nearby strike woke us with a blast. Kyiv officials reported at least 38 injuries and 14 deaths and as rescuers fought fires and pulled survivors from rubble. Yet by 7:00 a.m., the streets were jammed with traffic — not panicked citizens fleeing, but workers heading to their jobs. The city was no longer guarded by tanks, but by air defenses and human determination.
There we met 李成零, one of the few remaining Taiwanese volunteers soldiers. Wounded by shrapnel that remained in his arms and limping from a sprained foot, he visited us twice, X-rays in hand, to share his stories from the trenches. Lonely yet steadfast, he missed Taiwan deeply but was ready to return to the front. Over dinner, his gratitude humbled us.
At Maidan Square, where the Orange Revolution reshaped Ukraine’s history, flowers and different national flags blanketed the memorials of fallen soldiers. A Japanese woman led me to the photos of Taiwanese fighter Jonathan Tseng 曾聖光 and his Japanese comrade, photos of them standing side by side. She placed her bouquet there and whispered: “A friend in need is a friend indeed.” Living in Poland, she still returns often to honor them. Her devotion left me silent, overwhelmed.
On Sunday our team joined their evangelical worship. The band and music rocked the spirit of the church which was packed with all age of approximately 500 people. I unexpected meeting UN war rehabilitation agent from upstate New York and many professional American Ukrainian families. We were asked to the stage and I briefly explained our medical mission of “Taiwan can help and is helping”. I mentioned the Civil War President Abraham Lincoln’s famously prayer for asking not God on his side but nation to be on God’s side.
On our final night, we met with health official to plan future collaboration including the delivery of a million syringes and other vital supplies as well as Dr. Serhii Frolov, a researcher friend from Kyiv university. When we said goodbye, I sensed I was leaving something behind. It wasn’t until we crossed the border that I realized what it was.It was my heart.
Sep. 5, 2025