This patient provided consent for the use of their image, name, and personal story.
Over the past two years, countless large-scale atrocities and personal losses have brutally and permanently etched themselves into the collective memory of Ukrainians. And yet, the stories of the individuals whose lives have been forever altered by these tragic events slip through the cracks.
The many forms of devastation wrought on a nearly daily basis by the aerial threats (i.e., missiles, planes, and drones) launched from Belarus–the totalitarian puppet state of the Kremlin with whom we unfortunately share much of our northern border–is intimately felt by every Ukrainian. The hypersonic missile strike on the capital’s Retroville shopping complex on March 20, 2022, is one such event that remains vivid in the minds of most.
One such story belongs to Artem Melnyk, a 29-year-old Kyivan. On that fateful day in late March, near the aforementioned innocuous shopping complex, he was gravely injured by Russia’s campaign of terror.
Before the full-scale invasion began in late February of 2022, Artem believed–as did so many Westerners–that this form of warfare was a relic of a bygone era. This, they thought, was something unimaginable in the twenty-first century and incompatible with the many advances that had ostensibly delivered us all into progress.
Even now, he openly acknowledges that this was his worldview. But when the grim, once inconceivable realities of the full-scale invasion became apparent, he didn’t hesitate for a moment; instead, he was among the first to step forward and volunteer.
Artem wasted no time in signing his contract with the military and soon began his training. Shortly thereafter, he and his fellow recruits received their first assignment: patrolling certain areas of Kyiv so as to clear the residential complexes of potential saboteurs–an effort largely driven by the steady stream of reports from vigilant Ukrainian civilians.
It was this initial task that led Artem and his fellow recruits to the mall. They were in their car–a civilian vehicle–when a hypersonic missile struck just 200-250 meters (or ~565-820 feet) away.
Reflecting on that moment, Artem shared with our staff:
My memories are fragmented. I was thrown out of the car. I don’t know how long I lay on the asphalt. When I came to, I attempted to stand.
The mall and everything around it was in utter ruin–everything had been blown apart–the debris was all around me.
I stood up, collapsed, then stood up again. I did not yet feel any pain, so I walked a short distance before blacking out completely.
Artem sustained severe third and fourth-degree burns on over a third of his body–especially on his face, hands, and everything else near to the steering wheel at the time of the explosion. In the same moment, he was not only electrocuted but suffered multiple bone fractures. So, when he was taken to the hospital, he was in shock and unaware of the extent of what had just taken place. (Strange as it may sound, the blast wave advanced with such terrifying speed that those most directly affected were unaware that anything had taken place.)
Moments after the missile strike, Artem regained consciousness for limited, fragmented periods. “I don’t remember if it was before or after the interventions [of nearby first responders and medical professionals]–but, at some point, one of my doctors was standing next to me in the corridor. I asked to use his phone to find my girlfriend on social media and send her an audio message to let her know everything was fine,” Artem recalled, then going on to remember that he “told her I was a little burned, but that I would be out in a few days.”
In reality, Artem’s condition was far more serious than it initially appeared. While his limbs were intact, the burns were deep, severe, and involved significant muscle damage. Simple tasks like holding a spoon or a phone were now impossible.
The emotional impact of his injuries quickly became overwhelming, leading to ongoing mental health struggles.
After receiving skin grafts on his hands, severe swelling further impaired his limb function, leaving Artem unable to even touch one finger to another.
Days turned into months, several months into a year–and it is now clear that his recovery will take several more years.
For Ukrainian veterans injured in the first year of the full-scale invasion, the road to rehabilitation was often arduous and uncertain. National legislation was still being developed, leaving many military personnel without adequate protection; the possibility of obtaining veteran status or any other type of social security was practically non-existent.
Today, Artem is receiving treatment at a Neopalymi clinic. At this point, we should mention that he was our very first patient. Our partnership was the result of a chance encounter: as he was preparing to enter a different, less specialized physical rehabilitation facility, his girlfriend posted a link on social media to a fundraiser for his treatments. The post went viral, and many people tagged our webpage, leading one of our resident dermatologists, Oleksandr Turkevych, to happen upon it.
Despite fulfilling his duties near the shopping mall during this chaotic early stage of the full-scale war, Artem is unable to secure official recognition of disability status. This is because he did not technically receive a formal combat order from his commanders: an overwhelmingly common situation during the initial chaos of this early stage. As a result, he is barred from going through a military commission to document his injuries and prove his disabilities resulted from his injuries that day. For the same reason, he cannot obtain official combatant status, another key prerequisite for receiving financial assistance from the state. Although this situation has somewhat improved over the course of the full-scale invasion, there remain significant procedural obstacles that urgently need to be addressed.
Today, Artem dreams of full recovery–and, of course, the end of this genocidal war. For the time being, he plans to spend more time with his loved ones–and, after victory, to see more of what the world has to offer.
The preservation of human life–in quantity and quality–are the highest values in this war.
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