Chapter 2

The first night in the hospital passed in a haze of pain, medication, examinations, and voices that Anja could hear without always understanding. The surgeons had initially hoped that the damage to her left foot, although severe, might be stabilized without immediately resorting to the most drastic measures, but the imaging studies revealed a complicated pattern of fractures and crushed bones. Several small bones had been broken into multiple fragments, while the soft tissues around them had suffered extensive trauma from the blast. The doctors explained that the foot would have to be reconstructed as carefully as possible, and that even after successful treatment there could be a long period of rehabilitation before they knew how much function she would recover.

The first operation was difficult.

The surgeons worked for hours, attempting to bring the damaged bones back into positions from which they could heal. Some fragments were small and unstable, and the blast had caused such extensive disruption that simply putting everything back where it belonged was far more complicated than treating an ordinary fracture. They had to work slowly, examining the damaged structures repeatedly and using fixation to keep the bones aligned while avoiding further injury to the surrounding tissues. Anja knew very little about what was happening while she was under anesthesia, but afterward the surgeon explained that the reconstruction had been particularly challenging because the bones had not broken in a simple pattern.

When she finally woke, her first awareness was the heavy sensation of her leg elevated above the bed and the dull, deep ache that seemed to occupy every part of it. Her mouth was dry, her head felt heavy, and for several seconds she could not remember where she was. Then she saw the hospital ceiling, remembered the explosion, and immediately looked toward her left leg. It was heavily dressed and supported, with the foot carefully immobilized, and the sight caused the memories to return with such force that she turned her face away and began to cry.

A nurse noticed and came closer, speaking quietly while checking the monitors beside her bed. “Don’t worry, Anja. The operation is over, and the doctors are satisfied with what they were able to do.”

Anja swallowed with difficulty, still fighting through the effects of the medication. “My foot?”

“It’s still there,” the nurse answered gently. “They managed to preserve it.”

The simple words brought such relief that Anja closed her eyes.

For several days she remained in the hospital while the doctors monitored the healing and watched carefully for complications. The pain gradually changed from the overwhelming agony of the first hours into something more persistent and exhausting, a deep soreness mixed with sudden sharp sensations whenever she moved in the wrong way. She became acutely aware of how much she had previously taken her left foot for granted. Before the explosion, she had never thought about the complicated arrangement of bones, tendons, joints, and muscles that allowed her to walk across a room without even noticing the process. Now every movement seemed to require planning, and even turning slightly in bed could make her tense her entire body in anticipation.

The doctors did not rush the next stage of treatment. They wanted the swelling to decrease and the initial healing to begin before enclosing the foot permanently in a plaster cast. During that week Anja remained mostly in bed, with her injured leg elevated and supported. She became frustrated by the restrictions almost immediately. She had always been active and independent, and now even getting to the bathroom required assistance. There were moments when she became angry with herself for needing help, followed by moments when she felt guilty for being angry at people who were doing everything they could for her.