Denys Predein is a Ukrainian father living with severe cerebral palsy who uses a wheelchair and relies on relatives for essential daily care. Having fled conflict in Ukraine twice, he now lives in Scotland. In this personal story, he discusses his family’s journey, the challenges of rebuilding their lives and his fight to secure the right to remain in Scotland.
I want to know that the people who help me through an ordinary day will be able to stay beside me. That is what a secure future in Scotland means to me.
I live in Brechin, Angus, with my wife, Inna, and our two daughters. I have severe cerebral palsy, use a wheelchair and have a significant speech impairment. Inna also has cerebral palsy and her own mobility and support needs. My parents and grandmother live in a separate flat nearby. We are a family of seven whose lives depend on staying connected.
Displacement from Ukraine: rebuilding life as a disabled family amid war
Before we came to Scotland, Inna and I worked in insurance sales in Ukraine. My father was a warehouse manager in Kyiv, and my mother helped with the children and everyday family life. We had work, responsibilities and plans. Disability was already part of our lives, and we organised our family around the help we needed.
We were displaced from Crimea in 2014 and rebuilt our lives near Kyiv. Then, in 2022, we had to leave again under Russian bombardment. Both times, one of our daughters was still a toddler. We had already experienced how much it takes to start again, and suddenly we were facing that upheaval for a second time.
We left in the clothes we were wearing, without knowing where we would end up. Leaving was terrifying. My disability made escaping especially difficult because I depend on other people for daily assistance. We needed somewhere safe where our family could remain together.
Read: 22 Years Of Life In Isolation: The Barriers Facing A Disabled Man In Central Asia
Building a new life in Scotland: accessible housing and support for a disabled Ukrainian family
We arrived in Scotland in August 2022 through the Scottish Government’s Super Sponsor scheme, within Homes for Ukraine. Reaching safety brought enormous relief. We were grateful for the welcome and for a chance to rebuild our lives.
Our daughters are already studying in Scottish schools. They have friends here and speak English in their everyday lives. Scotland has become their home.
Inna works from home as an interpreter, and my father also works. I spend time writing and trying to make our experience understood. We are building a life here, while worrying about whether we will be able to keep it. That uncertainty reaches into decisions about housing, care and our children’s future.
Our current council flat illustrates how complicated safety can be for a disabled family. The doors and corridor are too narrow for us to use our wheelchairs properly indoors. Moving between rooms and using the bathroom requires careful consideration. We have worked with occupational therapy, and Keith Robertson from Disability Beyond Borders is helping us approach Angus Council about suitable housing.
Where we live also affects whether we can receive the care we need. My parents provide essential daily assistance to both of us. Moving us far away from them could break an arrangement on which our everyday lives depend. An offer of accommodation needs to take account of those relationships and the practical help they make possible.
I cannot assume Inna will provide all my care simply because she is my wife. She has a disability herself. My parents have their own needs too, including my mother’s recovery from heart surgery. My elderly grandmother also needs support. We help one another, and I worry about what happens when systems overlook the limits of what each person can do.
Read: 13 Disabled MPs Changing The Face Of British Politics
Asylum appeals and the fight for long-term security, accessible communication and family stability in Scotland
I claimed asylum because I wanted lasting security and a future our family could plan. My claim was refused, and my solicitor is dealing with the appeal. I feel caught between the life we are building and the possibility of having to start again. It is difficult to feel settled while such fundamental questions remain unanswered.
The process has also shown me how much accessible communication matters. My solicitor and I explained my speech difficulties before a further asylum interview. I still had to travel there in my wheelchair, and I was sent home to obtain more documents. Getting there was extremely difficult for me. That experience has stayed with me as I try to explain why written communication is often essential.
I can express myself much more reliably in writing. Email gives me a way to answer questions and describe our situation in my own words. I have used it to contact MPs, members of the House of Lords, researchers and organisations working with displaced Ukrainians. I want disabled people and the relatives who care for them to be heard when decisions are made.
There has been some recognition of the problem. In a letter dated 19 October 2026, received through my MP, Dave Doogan, Home Office minister Jo White acknowledged that my cerebral palsy and reliance on family care would remain regardless of how the conflict develops. The letter said the longer-term position of Ukrainians, including disabled people and relevant family relationships, was under consideration. It gave no decision or specific timetable.
A Scottish Government response dated 30 October, received through Dawn Black MSP, also recognised that temporary visa extensions do not resolve long-term questions about care, treatment, accessible housing and dependence on relatives. It said these concerns had been raised with the UK Government. I am glad these issues have been acknowledged, and I am still waiting for that recognition to lead to clear arrangements.
Our experience has also contributed to the University of Birmingham’s Beyond Sanctuary report, launched in Parliament on 3rd November. Having our experiences reflected in that work matters to me. I hope it helps those considering future policy understand what uncertainty means inside an ordinary family.
My care needs are lifelong. A future route that relied only on employment or earnings would leave me deeply worried about whether I could qualify. It would also need to recognise relatives whose caring responsibilities limit the paid work they can do. Their ability to remain beside a disabled person is part of that person’s security.
I would welcome peace in Ukraine. For our family, any possibility of return would still involve practical questions about accessible accommodation, treatment, equipment and dependable daily assistance. I would need to know what was actually available to us and how our family could manage. Those needs will remain when the fighting ends.
My hopes are straightforward. I want our daughters to grow up safely, our family to stay together, and our care to be reliable. I want to contribute through writing and the things I am able to do. After losing our home twice, I want to make plans for the years ahead with some confidence that we will be able to live them.
Have you experienced fleeing conflict as a disabled refugee or navigating the asylum process in another country? Whether from Ukraine or another conflict, we would welcome you sharing your experiences in the comments box, on social media, or contact us to share your personal story.