Sometimes for these patients, the only person they could talk to was her. Occasionally, she would attend funerals with them ... because they really had no one else.
Matthew Danchuk, grandson of the late Dr. Mary Yakymechko
Raised in an area of Ukraine that was occupied by the Nazis and, later, the Soviet Union in the 1940s, Mary Yakymechko often risked her life to help those in need before fleeing her home to realize her dream of becoming a doctor.
Yakymechko, who died of a stroke on May 11 at age 93, endured the instability of war and several interruptions in her medical studies. But eventually she settled with her family in Edmonton, gained a PhD and enjoyed a rewarding career that spanned 50 years.
“She was a very determined lady,” said Christine Danchuck, Yakymechko’s daughter. “She always wanted to be a doctor.”
Mary Sushko (her maiden name) was born Aug. 15, 1922 in Lviv, Ukraine.
During a three-year period of German occupation in the early-1940s, her mother often sent Mary with food to feed the starving and imprisoned.
“That was just a big part of her upbringing,” said Kathy de Jong, Yakymechko’s granddaughter.
“They were always the people who tried to help others, because they could. Or maybe they just felt that’s what they needed to do.”
Yakymechko’s philanthropic excursions became increasingly dangerous. One day, she found herself on the wrong end of a loaded gun.
“She was stopped by a soldier, and the soldier put the rifle to her chest and was going to shoot her,” de Jong said.
“But another soldier stopped him. And she said she was so scared that she was going to die that day. She even came home and said to her mom, ‘I can’t do this any more. They’re going to kill me.’ ”
From that point on, Yakymechko focused entirely on completing her education.
In 1940, she started her medical studies in Lviv. Many of her fellow students were women. Education was encouraged and available to many residents of Lviv during German occupation.
However, it all changed in 1944 when the Red Army reestablished control over the region.
“When the Soviets occupied Lviv, they actually started hunting down her medical class,” said Matthew Danchuk, Yakymechko’s grandson.
“They literally started disappearing in the night.”
At just 22, facing the threat of incarceration or death, Yakymechko fled to Vienna and then to Munich, Germany to complete her fourth year of medical studies.
It was during this uncertain time that she reconnected with an old friend named Harry Yakymechko. The couple married in 1945 and Mary Yakymechko briefly halted her studies to care for her daughter, Christine, who was born in Bavaria in 1946.
The young family decided to immigrate to Canada in 1948, with the incentives of continued education and support from family already settled in Saskatchewan.
After applying to the University of Alberta and a few other schools, Yakymechko learned that Canadian universities were not recognizing her previous education in Europe.
“I hate to say it, but people were discriminated against in Canada,” Yakymechko’s daughter said. “They just wouldn’t accept the studies from anything in the warring countries.”
Nevertheless, Yakymechko secured a job as a ward maid at the Alberta Hospital, and advanced to lab assistant before she had enough money to return to Munich by herself to complete her PhD in 1955.
“She did confess to me years later that she had sat on the plane and thought, ‘What am I doing?’” her daughter said. “I was nine when she went.” Yakymechko completed her PhD in just 14 months. She returned to Canada in 1956 to intern in Saskatoon and Regina, before moving back to Edmonton in 1960 with a job as a staff doctor at Alberta Hospital, where she remained until retirement in 1986.
On the side, Yakymechko started a private practice in psychiatry in 1972. She developed lasting relationships with her patients, some continuing as long as 25 years.
Some of her patients called her during the holidays. She was always available.
“Sometimes for these patients, the only person they could talk to was her,” Matthew Danchuk said.
“Occasionally, she would attend funerals with them for various family members of theirs, because they really had no one else.”
That’s why it was so difficult for Yakymechko to officially retire and close her private practice in 2006.
But retirement gave her the opportunity to spend more time with friends, family and her two greatgranddaughters.
Both her grandchildren vividly remember riding along in her 1972 Cadillac — sometimes at breakneck speeds — to Radium Hot Springs and piano lessons.
Her family affectionately called her “the last of the elegant ladies,” because of her polite and caring disposition, as well as her choice of clothing.
“Honestly, she would garden in her dresses,” Matthew Danchuk said. “I never saw my grandmother wear a pair of pants in my entire life.”
Sometimes for these patients, the only person they could talk to was her.