Today, we’re listening to the story of Andriy Polishchuk — a veteran, police officer, Plast scout, and a man of great character. For him, May 25 is not just a date. It’s the day his life changed forever: an explosion, injury, the fight for survival, surgeries, rehabilitation — and at the same time, a journey toward a new sense of self, inner strength, and sincere human connection. We spoke with Andriy about how the world changes after the front line, what helps with recovery — not only physical but emotional — how important it is to accept yourself, and how even simple, genuine support can move mountains. And also about Plast, the Carpathians, children, rock climbing, kind people, and life — life that goes on.
My name is Andrii. I am a veteran. I have injuries to my arm and leg. As I recall, it happened on May 25th – just a year ago. It was evening when a mine exploded in front of me. I did not realize what had happened for some time. My brothers-in-arms ran up, provided first aid, and took me to Lyman hospital. There, doctors stabilized me and performed the first surgery. Then I was transferred to Slovyansk at the same night. I had another surgery there and then in the morning I was taken to Dnipro.
My first emotions were… Well, it wasn’t exactly horror just something neutral. I realized that the injury was still there, and I had to deal with it. Unfortunately, I couldn’t provide any self-aid not even apply a tourniquet. It’s good that my brothers-in-arms were nearby. After that, it was just about accepting things and realizing that in 95% of cases, I was simply lucky it turned out like this.
On my way to Kyiv, I was already texting my family from my phone. I told my brother. My mother didn’t know, I didn’t want to tell her. She only found out about a month later, when I was already in Kyiv, and then she came to visit me. My brother’s wife, relatives, friends, and fellow soldiers came. It was hard and, at the same time, touching.
Now I understand why doctors say a patient needs rest and sleep. Because truly, that’s how it is. Even just people who are nearby exhaust you. You simply get tired, and you don’t want anything. Even 15 minutes is already difficult.
Why am I more comfortable among strangers? That’s more about my injury specifically, my arm. The fact that it’s in such a deformed condition. This isn’t just an amputation. They sewed it together from what was left. So it’s easier for me to be around people who didn’t know me before. I understand it’s probably harder for those who saw me when I was healthy. How will they look at this?
Most of the time, it all depends on for better or worse to you: how you see the situation and how you try to see yourself. I went to various events; friends visited. They tried to at least get me outside. Once I could walk a bit, they’d take me to the Park Landscape Alley just to be among people. To walk and realize that you can not just walk in the hospital but exist among ordinary people again. Because the atmosphere in the hospital is quite difficult, so many wounded. It’s not easy to recover mentally in such an environment.
Thankfully, some girls have taken the initiative at the hospital. They come almost every week to hold workshops, play board games. They go room to room, inviting all the guys and girls staying there to join. It really helps lighten the mood. After what happened, you are in a strange condition and this helps distract your mind a bit.
There are also moments you have to readjust to in daily life. You cannot hold the cup or mug in the same way as you used to. I struggle a bit with fine motor skills, but I can handle it. There’s nothing too complicated here. You just need to adapt. It’s a matter of habit, a matter of practice.
For example, I met a friend with whom I lay in the hospital. He has no arm at all and got a prosthetic arm. At that time, I saw him and ask: “How’s it going with the prosthesis? It must be more comfortable, right?” He says: “Maybe, but I’m already used to be without an arm.” He can do everything with one hand like pour water, turn on the kettle, cook a meal. So, he has to re-learn things all over again but with a prosthetic arm.
There are moments when I can’t handle the shower on my own. I need to secure it so I can take a shower. I use liquid soap because it’s easier to use for me rather than a solid one.
As for the kitchen, I wouldn’t say things have drastically changed. I can even take a knife with my hand or hold something. Yes, I can’t hold something with my finger, but with the back side of my palm. Yes, that’s possible. I can even shake hands. I constantly greet with my right hand, not my left. Earlier, when my hand was in a cast, I would greet people with my left hand. Now, I have no problems with my right hand. At times, the person is unaware and moves their arm quite a bit. I reassure them, “Slow down, slow down, relax, it’s all right. There’s no pain, but be a little gentler.”
From strangers, probably it was only looks and not as often as I thought. So now I see that it’s not as scary as I thought. It’s just curiosity from acquaintances. They sometimes ask to show my arm. Sometimes I see by their facial expression that it’s not very pleasant for them to look at this, but I get it.
My brother, after coming back on leave from the front, saw it, his reaction caught me off guard. But that’s how it is. I just smiled and said, “This isn’t even the worst thing that could have happened. That’s all.”
My thigh wound is quite severe and extensive. Part of the muscle is missing. It’s barely fair to call it a scar. I went to the beach two and a half months after the injury. The skin transplanted from my other thigh to the injured area is only now starting to heal properly. So I was at the beach, and It was my first time in public like that, and I felt rather self-conscious among others. A woman helped me gather my things because my arm was in a bandage. It was the first perception of myself among people, among society. I think the discomfort I felt came even more from my own thoughts like, “If I get up now, start gathering my things with my hands and using my feet to show what I have, everyone will be staring at me”. So I quietly got dressed and left.
Friends told me, “You’re overthinking. No one cares.” When I said it was hard for me to show up among people I knew, they’d say, “It’s fine, it’s all in your head.” Maybe that’s true, but it’s still hard emotionally. You really do overthink it.
But over time, I understand that I feel much better than, six months ago. My arm stayed bandaged for a long time. When the doctors started to take it off, I even said, “Can we keep it on a bit longer, so I don’t have to show it yet?” But no matter what, over time, you slowly start to accept yourself.
Before the injury, I worked as a policeman. Then from here I went to a combat unit. After I returned, after closing the sick leave, after the hospital, I returned to service, but already in the office. I worked simply with documentation, with various requests on computer. Now, I don’t notice any major differences from before the injury. I mean physically. I’m doing the same work I used to do, and I handle it without any problems.
Once I saw a girl I knew who constantly posted her life in Plast (national scouting organization focused on youth education, leadership, and community service) on Facebook. Plast in general was interesting then. It’s something unusual, like in movies about American scouts. It wasn’t like I was really trying to get involved or anything.
One day, she suggested I attend an event called KVDCh. It’s a two-day course called the Qualification Training for Full Membership. I completed it. Honestly, those couple of days were the most exciting, happiest ones I’d had in years. It was really, really cool. The people were incredibly sincere, interesting, super positive, with great values. This was in 2023.
Right after that, I went on my first hike with them in the Carpathians. It’s a four-day trip. It was part of a Plast event called Stezhkamy Heroiv (“Along the Paths of Heroes”). There are different difficulty levels. Some people walk 80 km, others 120. There are also similar hikes for veterans and families.
That’s how I got involved. At the time, there were already three plastuny (a member of Plast), and they needed a fourth person. We were having breakfast, and they were talking among themselves like “It would be cool to go, but we’re one person short, someone dropped out.” I overheard them and thought: “It’s a pity, now probably in literally a minute they’ll find someone, and I won’t make it. Well, there aren’t many people like me who can in one moment go for four days to walk 80 km.” I say: “Well, I can.” They looked like that, a bit with suspicion, and that’s how I just got acquainted with these Plast members. There were four of us: me, who wasn’t yet a Plast member, and three Plast members – two guys and one girl. Those four days in the Carpathians were among the most vivid memories I have.
It was amazing, so many adventures. While we were on our way, we crossed the river on horseback, even though we were supposed to just walk across, but because of the rain, the river had swelled. So we were about to turn back. Then we saw two guys on horses. We called out: “Hey, can you help us?” They said, “Sure.” They crossed the river and transported us one by one. That was just one of the many stories.
After that, I decided to become a plastun. I gathered a group, specifically a novatskyi troop, which is kids aged 6 to 11. I got nine boys, mostly around 7 or 8 years old. I became their pidvykhovnyk (assistant of a leader or assistant to a mentor). I had a more experienced vykhovnytsia (leader), and she helped guide me. Luckily, when I had to go to war, another pidvykhovnyk stepped in and took over the group while I was in the East. He’s still leading them now as the main vykhovnyk.
When I was finally able to move around again in the summer, I went to visit them. That moment just being back was incredibly heartwarming. The kids had written messages and drawn pictures on a T-shirt for me. Each one had added something. It was both drawn and written, all transferred right onto the shirt. All the kids were really respectful, they understood what had happened and where I had been. Their parents had explained everything, so they didn’t ask uncomfortable questions.
To be honest, my worldview has changed significantly. I used to overreact to certain situations or things. I would overthink and exaggerate things in my head. That has completely changed now. I no longer see the things that used to stress me out as important. Hardly anything can throw me off balance.
There’s one thing I realize, is still difficult for me, it’s driving. It’s not easy to control my emotions. It’s not easy to control emotions. Perhaps that I stay calm all the time, because I understand that none of it really matters. The things that once felt overwhelmingly important, now it’s not. Once you realize that you’re alive and that things are okay with you and around you, everything else just stops mattering. It’s honestly not worth worrying about.
Speaking from experience, after three weeks in my first rehab center, I did some psychological testing. Back then, the therapist told me I was in a rough emotional state. But when I came back later after more surgeries and took the tests again, she looked at the results and said, “Now this is a whole different story.”
I’d started going to various interesting events. I started swimming and joined some social groups for veterans. If I saw something interesting, I signed up right away. I even signed up for rock climbing. I said: “Hey, can I join? But I have a bit of a catch, I’m missing some fingers on one hand.” They said, “Yeah, we can work with that.” Later, I thought, “What am I even doing with all this?” But these activities are the key. It is really important to taking control and dragging yourself out of that situation. So you can start seeing things differently, more positively.
Being in the hospital for so long, it’s rough, mentally. It’s not easy to look at yourself, and at the other guys and girls around you. You simply have to bite the bullet and move forward.
There’s a great movie that really captures this “Always Say Yes” That’s exactly me in that situation.
So, all in all, I’d say don’t point fingers. Don’t act weird around us. There’s nothing scary about it. These are just regular people. Most of them, from my experience, don’t have any mental issues. Don’t be afraid of them. They’re positive, they’re doing okay. Just treat them like normal people. Even if they’re missing a leg or an arm, or have scars or facial injuries. Don’t rush over to say “thank you” either, just behave normally. That’s all.
Translator Yuliia Melnyk
