“Personally, I would have preferred to see things work out well in Georgia rather than leaving in search of better opportunities.”
By Eteri as told to Samuel Hall Team | Photographed by Tornike Begiashvili
I was born in 1984 in Tbilisi. My early life was shaped by national and personal upheaval — the hardest being the death of my brother in the Abkhazian war in 1992. That grief stayed with me for years. I studied at the German School and later at the Free University of Tbilisi, and from 2006 to 2007 I lived in Germany. That was my first experience of leaving and returning.
Life took many turns after that: marriage, studies, the police academy, internships. In 2012 I had my first child. In 2014, I left Georgia again, this time for work in the United Arab Emirates. I had a very good position at the Abu Dhabi National Exhibition Centre, and I lived there until 2018. During that period, I remarried and had my second child. Even then, there were difficult moments, especially when my first son had to return to Georgia for visa reasons and I stayed without him for several months. But overall, I had support there, my sister and relatives lived nearby.
When I returned to Georgia in 2018, I didn’t expect my life to shift so dramatically. My health started declining: psychological problems, fears, phobias, years of insomnia. In December 2020, I was diagnosed with stage one carcinoma. I underwent surgery, radiation therapy, and hormone treatment. I tried to stay positive. But in 2022, my vision deteriorated, and after additional tests, I was told the cancer had metastasised to multiple organs. That diagnosis pushed me into a different kind of migration: not for work or study, but for survival. I left Georgia urgently for Germany.
Germany was both lifesaving and extremely difficult. There, I discovered I also had chronic leukaemia. I went through chemotherapy, and at one point, a near-death experience due to pneumonia. I was in palliative care as no one expected me to survive. I felt lonely at times, especially when I tried not to worry my mother or others. The emotional burden was heavier than the physical one. My 9-year-old son took me to chemotherapy because I couldn’t see; he read the train schedules and guided me everywhere. I worried about him more than about myself. And during that time, my husband left. At first it was devastating, but later I realised that losing that support forced me into strength. I knew everything depended on me, and somehow my cancer markers stabilised for a year and a half. That period changed how I see everything.
I returned to Georgia once I was discharged in May 2023. I was happy to see relatives and friends, but returning also brought new challenges. People behave differently when you are sick; some distance themselves, some pity you, and you begin filtering your relationships. But the hardest part was re-entering Georgia’s healthcare system.
My medication must be taken for 21 days, then paused for 7 days, and restarted on the 28th day. In Georgia, the funding system only allows one application every 30 days. This meant I always received my medicine late. Later in Spain, doctors told me this disrupted cycle likely caused my tumour markers to rise. Clinical check-ups, which needed to happen every two weeks or monthly, were expensive and unfunded. Even basic analyses were unaffordable. Nothing — not consultations, not tests — was covered.
Because of this, I couldn’t continue treatment in Georgia. I had to migrate again, this time to Spain. Here, everything is funded: consultations, analyses, operations. They examine me monthly because my cancer is severe. I had surgery on my left eye, and now I finally have glasses that allow me to read and write again after three years. I am waiting for surgery on my right eye.
All these movements — Georgia to UAE, Georgia to Germany, back to Georgia, now Spain changed what “home” means for me. I used to be very nostalgic about Georgia, but now I feel I don’t belong to any particular place. What matters is my health and my children. I tried for a whole year to make things work in Georgia, but nothing changed. I don’t have unlimited time, so I choose to spend it where I can receive care and where my children can be well.
In Germany and Spain, doctors explain everything. In Georgia, patients are often told to “google it.” That is unimaginable when you are fighting for your life. The state must make treatment possible for returnees, not a burden they cannot carry.