"I want to dispel the myth that I am a very strong person, just a tank, because many know me since 2020." A conversation with Halina Kazimirouskaya about overcoming a difficult diagnosis

Halina Kazimirouskaya knew that she had a hereditary predisposition to oncological disease and a "broken" gene many years ago, while living in Belarus. But the terrible diagnosis caught up with her in forced emigration, after five difficult years of survival.

"In fact, all the time in emigration is a struggle. Nothing comes easily. The popular "Volny Khor" (Free Choir) is an enormous effort, requiring a lot of emotional and physical strength. And perhaps it was precisely because I lived such an interesting and continuous life, taking on too much, that it provoked my body. There's an expression in the choir — 'ankle-stop' (a playful term meaning "dead tired"). My children even came up with a special 'road sign' for when I was completely 'suffocating' from work.

I'm not complaining, it's my choice, but probably, I shouldn't have taken so much on my shoulders: the "Volny Khor", the "Concordia" choir, a music school, and many other projects — without weekends. I didn't know what a vacation was," Halina admits. She adds that even during the hardest periods of her illness, when she had "lapses" from active life, she tried to "stay in touch."

Halina Kazimirouskaya is a well-known Belarusian choir conductor, composer, researcher, and educator. For many years, she has been involved in the revival and popularization of Belarusian musical heritage. In 2004, she graduated from the Belarusian State Academy of Music. While still a student, she became the artistic director of the amateur choir Concordia. For over 15 years, this ensemble has performed a diverse repertoire — from baroque music to contemporary Belarusian works, actively touring and participating in international festivals. In 2020, during peaceful protests in Belarus, Halina Kazimirouskaya founded the "Volny Khor" (Free Choir). Its members would unexpectedly appear in shopping centers, on the steps of the Philharmonic, in the subway, and on the streets, performing spiritual and patriotic Belarusian songs. Due to the threat of criminal prosecution, she and her family had to leave Belarus for Poland. In Warsaw, she founded and headed the Mikola Ravenki Belarusian School of Arts, where she provides work for emigrant artists and introduces Belarusian children and adults to their native culture. In early 2026, Halina Kazimirouskaya was diagnosed with an oncological disease.

To the question of whether continuous stress and the problems a person faces in emigration could have influenced the rapid development of the disease, Halina answered:

"I don't like to look for meaning in everything. Bad things happen. This is a genetic disease; I have a sister who leads a more even, stable, and calm lifestyle, and she still got sick. And the disease is not studied enough to say exactly what influenced it. We understand that our body is very dependent on mood, stress — and anything can 'go wrong.' Perhaps a very stressful emigrant life was the trigger, although I've been here for more than 5 years.

Indeed, everything is very difficult: children, schools, survival, paying for an apartment, work, many projects — generally not related to money, but I can't not do them... For me, one of the hardest things during the illness was that I was wasting my life, senselessly living days, weeks. This waste was so painful for me!" Halina admits.

"The Disease is Somewhere Near"

She says she understood then — she needed to slow down. And although that terrible diagnosis — cancer — is no longer there, Halina cannot allow herself to relax and keeps her hand on the pulse.

Павялічыць

"Doctors will only tell me I'm healthy after 5 years. So this disease is somewhere near, and you have to watch out for it, control it. I still have operations ahead, I'm currently undergoing immunotherapy, normal rehabilitation hasn't started yet. I still don't have enough strength.

But I cannot give up any of the three projects I'm doing: 'Volny Khor', 'Concordia' choir, and the school. Not to mention my research activities. I really hoped that while I was sick, I would work on a book about Mikola Kulikovich; his archive is already ready — thank God, I managed to do it in December before the illness.

(Mikola Shchahlov-Kulikovich (1893—1969) — Belarusian composer, musicologist, ethnographer, poet, and figure of the Belarusian émigré movement. Before World War II, he lived in Minsk, was one of the organizers of the Belarusian Opera and Ballet Theater, and conductor of its symphony orchestra. From 1944, he was in emigration in Germany, and from 1950 — in the USA. He founded a Belarusian choir in New York, then led Belarusian choirs in Cleveland and Chicago. — RS).

But only now is my mind returning, I can already think, reflect, analyze. Unfortunately, the time of illness was wasted; it was a complete fog," Halina regrets.

She sincerely admits that she had never paid attention to her health before — neither in Belarus nor in emigration.

"In Warsaw, I didn't even have normal insurance; I didn't turn anywhere. But this year, on January 4, I myself stumbled upon something foreign in my body; you can't confuse it with anything else. Like a hard stone inside. When I found this tumor, it was 3 centimeters in size.

Yes, it is necessary to monitor, to take care of one's health. But in my case, the aggressiveness of this calamity was 100%. This means the tumor formed within a few weeks. Hypothetically, I could have had a mammogram in September, noticed nothing, and the tumor would have started growing in December. It's a matter of luck for everyone. And also, it's a matter of luck where it's located, how deep. Mine was on the outside, easy to find," Halina recounts.

Павялічыць

She didn't have much experience or contact with doctors in Belarus, but in Warsaw, everything happens very quickly. If there's a suspicion of oncology, a person goes to their family doctor, who then gives them a magic piece of paper with the Latin word cito written on it. Which means — "quickly."

"Without any referrals, you can go to the nearest oncological hospital (there are several in Warsaw). And indeed, everything happens very quickly. Everything related to this disease is in 'state hands.' You can have an ultrasound, tests done in private medical centers. But the main test — a biopsy — only in a state institution. Of course, there are different approaches, you can learn about them, seek advice, but you cannot make any independent moves. There is a protocol of conduct. And I advise against doing anything suggested by ChatGPT. No amateur activity, because everything is very individual," Halina says.

12 Sessions of 'White Chemo', 4 of 'Red'

Halina Kazimirouskaya recounts that in Poland, she didn't have to look for any "medical connections." Test results appeared quickly. When a tumor was found, her entire body was checked, and an MRI of all organs was done. The longest wait was for the biopsy results: 2-3 weeks, because the examination is very complex. All tests took a month.

"And then there was a consultation, when 10 oncologists announce your diagnosis and the treatment paths they propose. You ask questions, you talk. My first thought was: there's some bad thing inside me, just operate, take it out, throw it away! But I had such a type of tumor that aggressive chemotherapy had to be done immediately. They give a strong dose once a week... For one or two days, I was in a very difficult state; I will never forget it. You are as if outside of life. Everything hurts: you feel twisted, but not quite, nauseous, but not quite vomiting. Your head buzzes, it's heavy and foggy, all organs and nerves ache, one moment it's cold, the next it's hot. And so it was for 4-5 days.

And then for 1-2 days, it was as if 'the light turned on' — someone let you back down to earth! The sky is blue, the grass is green: you feel such happiness to breathe, to walk normally, to inhale the air. There's little strength, little energy, but that nightmare is gone," Halina recalls her first "white chemotherapies."

From the beginning, she disagreed with the Polish doctors opting for "aggressive chemotherapy" rather than surgery. She consulted with Belarusian and Israeli doctors, as well as a Belarusian oncologist now working in Poland. But she finally agreed that it was the only path: first 12 sessions of so-called "white chemotherapy," and then four more of "red."

The "white" sessions took effect immediately, the tumor began to shrink, but doctors have a protocol. After 12 "white" ones, there were 4 "red chemotherapies" — stronger ones. I called them "Aperol" — the drug has an orange color, like the cocktail. "Red chemotherapy" is given every three weeks because it's more potent, it just kills you — it completely 'knocked me out.' These 4 "red chemotherapies" took all my summer — I was out of my mind," Halina admits.

Павялічыць

The conditions for administering "chemo" are as follows: the patient is admitted to the hospital for one day. A room for 2-3 people, a comfortable bed with a small table, a toilet, a small kitchen. In the evening, the patient returns home. Halina was told that in Belarus, three people might sit on one couch while the drug is administered, and the toilet is at the end of the corridor.

Wonderful Doctor Maria

In Poland, medications are administered to patients through a special port, which is installed under the collarbone, beneath the skin, Halina Kazimirouskaya explains.

"That is, the drug is not administered through veins, which hide and get damaged. Here, 'chemo' goes to its target via the shortest possible route. This port is still in my body because immunotherapy is still ongoing. You enter the room, they tell you: 'Straighten your shoulders,' you have to try not to flinch, it's very painful when they administer it. I cried from the pain, like a child.

The first time I was unlucky: they installed this port poorly, and I suffered from pain for a month. I thought, maybe it's supposed to be like that... I have a rather low pain threshold; it hurts even when they take blood from my finger. Perhaps I'm not meant for illness. For a whole month, I couldn't sleep, couldn't lift my arm during rehearsals," the interviewee recalls.

Halina's port was later repositioned. With the exception of the doctor who initially installed it unsuccessfully, she is delighted with all the other doctors.

"I really like the female surgeon who is treating me. There's also an oncologist-therapist, we call her Irenka, although she's already elderly. Irenka attends Belarusian events, she supports us a lot. No one has ever reproached me for not being Polish. The attitude is very good: they explain things and talk to you.

Thanks to my friends who introduced me to a therapist from Belarus who works in a regular polyclinic. We call her 'Doctor Maria.' She is Belarusian-speaking, smart, responsible, simply incredible! When 'chemo' starts, all old illnesses activate. I once had migraines, and during chemo, they simply knocked me off my feet. Maria prescribed me new-generation pills, monitored my body, ordered tests that are rarely done. It's like a game — like in my childhood: a wolf with baskets catching eggs. It's the same here: fix one thing, another 'flies off.' Maria delved deep, dug around... I wish everyone to find such a wonderful Doctor Maria," Halina says.

Павялічыць

The interviewee says that in emigration, she has one support — her children. Her younger daughter will soon be 15, her son is 17. For her, the scariest moment in life was telling her children about the illness.

"At first, I closed myself off, didn't want to tell anyone. And when I realized I couldn't work or pay bills, my closest friend said: 'Let's find money. How will you live?'

But for that, I had to tell everyone my story. And I didn't want feedback! The question "How are you?" simply stumped me. Even my relatives learned about the illness when I announced I needed help. The children quickly pulled themselves together — and suddenly became so adult! My son is like a father, and a husband, and everything in the world! He took on the most responsible tasks; I didn't even know he was so capable," Halina doesn't hide her emotions.

All household matters — going to the store, cooking, cleaning the house — fell on the children, she says.

"They are simply great, they took on the role of parents. I hope that morally it didn't undermine them; on the contrary, they became stronger. We have a very open relationship with the children. I could also yell; little things irritated me, but they didn't take offense," Kazimirouskaya says.

Empty, Useless Expressions

Halina admits that during her illness, she became selfish in a good way. Now she is learning to focus on herself.

"If a person just got sick for a week or two — that's one thing. If the pain is endless and you lack patience and strength — you don't give a damn about anything, you're out of life, in some kind of madhouse. There were people who sincerely wanted to help, but I don't need that right now. It's difficult, and it slightly unbalanced the people around me who kept saying: 'Write to me day and night,'» she recounts.

Halina recalls how she drove herself to the first "chemo" session. After the procedure, she realized she was "out of it," and it was simply dangerous to get behind the wheel. She called a friend: "Help!"

"And when they write to me at night, and I can't get out of bed! I yell for the children, and they save me. For the phrase 'Everything will be fine,' I was ready to kill! How do you know? I was at a procedure yesterday, and a woman next to me said that during chemo, a new tumor grew in her. Doctors don't give guarantees. All oncology departments are very depressing, even though outwardly everything is beautiful. But there is such pain here! A woman came here for the second time, saying: 'Why? I was here ten years ago!' Someone needed words of support, positive phrases, sympathy. Personally, I didn't," Halina says.

She admits that she overestimated her strength during the illness, but wanted to recover faster. She scheduled rehearsals because it seemed to her that she was already capable of working. But the next day, it got worse.

"But people will come to the rehearsal! Of course, it would have been better not to do it. It's my foolish nature — to run and fly. In June, I had my first 'red chemo.' A choir from Leipzig came to Warsaw; it was a project with the 'Concordia' choir since 2021. 65 people on stage, I had to conduct. I couldn't refuse. It was +35 degrees Celsius outside, and the air conditioner in the House of Culture broke down. No one could replace me. It was very difficult; after each rehearsal, I was falling off my feet. It was a very good concert. But not at such a cost! Now I recall: 'How foolish I was!' You can't do that. You need to give yourself the opportunity and time to be sick.

Looking back, I realize: I need to work on my mindset, not get involved everywhere, but learn to refuse and say 'No.' It won't be the end of the world!" Kazimirouskaya admits.

For now, Halina, as she says, has a very low "efficiency coefficient"; even going to the store is a task. She tries to reduce her usual workload, to plan.

Павялічыць

"I am getting to know myself anew; I don't know how I will return to the person I was before. While in my head I can do everything, my body can only do a part — such a dissonance, a conflict between mind and body. I really hope that even if my energy returns, I'll have enough sense not to go back into this 'fan,' you can't live like that! I hope I'll have the wisdom to organize my life differently, and not lay it on the altar of everything!» the interviewee says.

The re-evaluation came when the biopsy results became known in winter. The doctor informed her of the diagnosis, and Halina burst into tears.

"She says that people who go through this are special; they are given a chance to rethink their lives when you are close to death, with pain... I thought: will I really rethink my life because of some stupid disease? Of course, the doctor was right. I am slowly returning to work, starting rehearsals for the 'Volny Khor.' I am returning to myself — the normal Halya I know. But children and home are becoming predominant. And I am learning to want! Over these years, I forgot that I could want things. My perfectionism hinders me a bit: I am fast, I don't want to waste time. But now I am re-evaluating: it won't be the end of the world if you don't do it," Halina shares her thoughts.

"Emigration is Evil"

Halina Kazimirouskaya told how, after forced emigration, she rented an apartment with her children for five and a half years in Warsaw's Mokotów district.

"There's a modern district there, called 'Mordor' — because of many glass office buildings. All the streets are named after characters from Tolkien's books; there's Gandalf Street, for example.

Everything there is the same color, even the decorative plants grow synchronously. My children and I didn't like it there. I had a strange justification: we're in emigration, and emigration is evil, so we shouldn't be well. I feel cozy at home, in Belarus, where we have a large house in Astrashytski Haradok, 15 acres of land, and also a khutar (farmstead) on the Neman river. My children have never lived in apartments. And the fact that we lived in such a modern district and in such a super-modern apartment was a mistake. Again — I shouldn't have endured it," Halina recounts.

It so happened that in the summer, Polish acquaintances with whom Halina has been friends for over 20 years were renting out an apartment in another, more traditional Warsaw district, Stara Ochota. And she moved.

"It's the center, but so green, so green. We have a large balcony. In modern districts, sometimes there are many decorative plants, seemingly beautiful — hydrangeas, magnolias. But here there are tall linden trees, birches, and a huge oak, about 200 years old. The apartment is very cozy, bright, such sunsets! And both my children and I exclaimed simultaneously: 'How great it is here!' All friends and acquaintances know that I hate Warsaw; I constantly said that. But here I fell in love with a new Warsaw. The landlady asks: 'What curtains do you like, what furniture?' We can choose! We got bookshelves! It's so cool!» the interviewee recounts.

Halina admits that the illness pushed her to change her lifestyle. Previously, she would come home after hard work only to sleep. Emigrant minimalism suited her: a roof over her head was enough.

"I had to get cancer to understand that I disliked my previous life so much that I wanted to change it. I need to leave myself weekends, limit working hours, set boundaries, separate work from friendships, family from work. In Belarus, I loved being a hostess, I loved cooking, but I wasn't a 'hero of Belarus' or a savior of all Belarusian culture — I was an ordinary person. And I am an ordinary person. I'm not going to just do housework. But here I lost my balance, and now I'm regaining it. I'm getting to know myself anew. I am still in the process of recovering from this illness, hoping that the worst is behind me," Halina says.

And most importantly — Halina is returning to music. She says that when she fell ill, a fear emerged that she had lost her form, not having sung for so many months.

"I have never had such a long break from music — in our relationship with it since childhood. I started engaging with music early; at 6, I was already writing my first songs. When I was sick, I didn't want to create music so that it wouldn't be tainted by cancer. Now I am returning to life and re-entering music. Music is my religion, Her Majesty Music, and one must be pure to deserve it.

I've only just started touching the keys, singing something. But there were fears — that I would never be capable again. I hope I haven't lost my connection with it.

And I also want to dispel the myth that Kazimirouskaya is a very strong person, just a tank, because many know me since 2020. But I am an ordinary person; I can even turn into a rag. There were moments when I just cried, but didn't ask the universe for help: just let me live peacefully. I resented: 'Why did this disease fall upon me?' But one must live!" Halina Kazimirouskaya says.

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