Although today it is very different from the city that I left in 1993, with its dark streets, cracked asphalt and pits on the roads. Buildings and parks in need of loving care. Empty shops and poor service. Don't forget the famous "stone" faces that people wore on the street. 

I love the modern look of Moscow. Today you'll find all the attributes of a big city – inevitable traffic gams; hundreds of new roads, bridges and junctions; beautifully renovated buildings, museums and parks. The atmosphere is friendly, and the service is superb. People wear bright colours instead of brown and black, and they smile more when they don't bury their faces in mobile phones. 

There're modern busses and cosy trams, but taxies are so cheap that I couldn't help myself and used them frequently. (If you ever took a taxi in Copenhagen, you would understand what I mean.) I liked talking with drivers, who are usually from Asia or the Caucasus regions, about life in their countries, work and politics.

Anyway, I was busy trying to compress my long to-do list into several doable tasks that fit in one week – exercise in planning, organizing and staying up longer than usual.

I will not bore you with the practical matters that I have taken care of, but I will tell you about the main reason for my trip and what I learned from it.

Age adds health problems to our lives, and a broken venous valve in my leg had to be repaired for quite some time - it was tired of pumping blood through my leg.

Here, in Germany, they offered me an ancient procedure. It would be free but invasive and with a lengthy recovery period. And it would leave ugly scars on my skin. Yikes. 

On the other hand, a gentle modern procedure would coast me a minimum two and a half thousands euro! I had no doubts about the type of surgery I wanted, but I needed a more reasonable alternative. So I talked with friends, ploughed the Internet and made the arrangements. 

In Moscow 

I arrived on Friday night. The temperature was mild, and I went for a walk along the streets that I had known all my life. The next morning I stood in a private laboratory, just a 5-minute walk from the hotel. After 20 minutes, I was done, and a few minutes later, in a bakery next door, I was enjoying a cup of fresh coffee with delicious Russian pastries.

On Monday morning, I visited the surgeon V.V. and an anaesthetist. The next day I arrived at the hospital for my surgery.

In a room for two, I just managed to change into comfy clothes and say hello to another woman, when a nurse called me to a theatre. They checked my blood pressure, and after rolling myself into a disposable gown, I entered the surgery room on my own feet! There, I arranged myself on the table, and the procedure began. 

I remember the next hour as a cheerful conversation with my surgeon about work, life in Russia and Germany and traffic problems. Sometimes it was interrupted by his questions like: "How are you doing, love? Tell me if it hurts."

"Couldn't you find a bigger syringe?" – I asked him about the monster that pierced my skin with a crunchy sound. 

"Nope, sorry. This babe is the biggest we've got," – he chuckled.

"With this "baby" you could euthanize a horse," – I added in disbelief.

"Donno about that, but it allows me to get deep into your muscles," – he explained and pierced another hole in my skin.

It could have been a conversation over a cup of tea if I had not been lying on my back with pipes sticking out of my right leg.

"Done here, love, let's get you up. How are you feeling?" – VV asked, smiling at me.

"A little dizzy," I said. The anaesthetic must have found its way to my head, making me feel lightheaded and drowsy at the same time. 

"Sure it did, he said, hold on to me, and I will escort you to your room."

And there we were, walking side by side – a surgeon, head of the department and I, my hand under his, almost as a couple on a date. We've got a few looks, for sure. Of course, this wasn't a standard procedure for a Russian hospital, but it felt warm.

A few days later, I arrived for a routine check and, although by nature, I am not a big hugger, 've embraced VV before I left. 

Why am I telling you this story?

The time will come when you will return to places that caused you pain in the past, but you will feel good. When emotional trauma heals, the scars remain, but they don't hurt. 

I see my scars as marks of hard-earned wisdom, and I will not exchange them for all the riches of the world. They remind me of how strong we are. We can not only survive, but also thrive and enjoy life.

You can change and grow as long as you live, overcoming any obstacles and challenges that life throws you. Sometimes you need to climb rocks, and sometimes it's better to go around them. Sometimes you must follow the chosen path, and sometimes it's ok to change it.

And there're times when going back means going forward. 

Surround yourself with people who genuinely care for you, and practice a sense of humour - these are two components of a recipe of healing with joy. 

Use it!