“I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.”
—Anne Frank
“I don’t think of all the misery, but of the beauty that still remains.”
—Anne Frank
John Frodel (sitting), with the rest of the surgical team conducting surgery on an injured soldier / photo by Andrii Sidletskiy for Razom for Ukraine
Nearly 400,000 Ukrainian troops have been killed or wounded, and thousands of civilians injured, according to a recent study by the Center for Strategic and International Studies. The study also reports close to a million Russian casualties. These shocking statistics ought to arouse us from the growing complacency about the war in Ukraine—now in its fourth year—no matter how overwhelmed we are by current events.
To fight this complacency, I accompanied a facial plastic and reconstructive surgery mission to a military hospital in Lviv, Ukraine, from May 10 to May 18. The mission was run by Face-to-Face, the humanitarian arm of the American Academy of Facial Plastic & Reconstructive Surgery, and Razom for Ukraine, a humanitarian organization that runs programs in education, advocacy, and health. The team consisted of over 20 surgeons, nurses, and technicians.
The mission’s organizer, Dr. Manoj Abraham, is a New York-based facial plastic and reconstructive surgeon and the previous chair of Face-to-Face. Dr. Abraham has led over 40 missions throughout the world. This was his fourth trip to Ukraine which, as a war zone, has its unique challenges—as well as rewards.
“Our work pales in comparison to the bravery and resilience of the Ukrainian people,” Abraham told me. “Our patients have terrible injuries but want to heal and continue fighting for their country. Working with them is incredibly moving.”
Another member of the team, Dr. John Frodel, is a facial plastic surgeon in Ithaca, N.Y. This was his ninth mission to Ukraine.
“I remember seeing the images on television after Russia bombed the maternity hospital in Mariupol,” he said. “I was enraged and had to do something. I went on my first mission and haven’t looked back.”
Susan Ketigian was the mission’s head nurse and spent months organizing equipment, medicine, and more. Disciplined and dedicated, Ketigian has been a nurse for 46 years and volunteers for Healing the Children Northeast, a nonprofit organization that provides medical care for underserved children. A veteran of over 30 global missions, she was on her fourth trip to Ukraine when I spoke with her.
“My other missions are children with congenital facial deformities—very different from an active war zone,” she said. “In Ukraine, there are devasting facial injuries. Your face is your identity. It’s a loss with vast psychological components.”
During the mission, Ketigian ensured the other nurses had enough breaks, especially with such intricate surgeries infused by the stresses of war.
“The first thing the hospital does is show you the bomb shelter, highlighting the reality of the situation,” said Ketigian. “But most of the time, you can’t stop what you’re doing.”
Manoj Abraham (left side, standing), instructs Ukrainian surgeons / photo by Andrii Sidletskiy
While protective gear usually protects upper bodies, weaponry like mines, drones, and shrapnel can damage limbs and disfigure faces in ways that render people unrecognizable. This is why a Face-to Face mission is so vital: Its surgeons conduct complicated procedures like advanced microsurgery and patient-specific implants. On our mission, these surgeries take place in three sparse operating rooms in the understaffed hospital.
“We do microvascular reconstruction, where we can reconstruct parts of the face with the fibula bone from the leg,” said Dr. Abraham. “You have to reconnect the blood vessels in the neck and then use patient-specific, 3-D implants to reconstruct areas of the face.”
Each day began at 7 a.m. sharp and ran late into the night. Many surgeries lasted up to 12 hours. Throughout the week, the team operated on 26 patients—most needing at least two or three procedures.
I observed several of the operations, amazed at the team’s focus, dedication, and tenacity. Lviv is less volatile that other areas of Ukraine, but there were still a few air raids. Everyone worked through the sirens.
Abraham and his patient, Sergey, shake hands after his surgery. Sergey struggled to breathe properly before the procedure / photo by Lauren Yanks
The patients waited at the hospital the morning we arrived. Many of their faces were terribly disfigured, but their ardent determination shined through. While waiting to be examined, they shared their stories.
One young man, Sergey, went to Odessa to fight during the initial occupation. In 2023, he officially joined a brigade but was taken captive by Russians and held for two years. He shared a picture from that time—he was sickly thin, his nose destroyed twice.
“I don’t breathe well,” he said. He shared more, but our translator struggled to make sense of it. He is being treated for PTSD.
“He has a very broken nose with fractures along the bridge,” Dr. Abraham explained while examining him. “His septum is twisted. We’ll straighten it, so his breathing will be a lot better once healed.”
The day after his surgery, we check on Sergey. His nose was still bandaged, but his mood was lighter. Dr. Abraham gave him directions to care for his wound. When asked about his future plans, Sergey paused and said, “I’m just going to keep moving forward.”
Another soldier, Denus, was on the frontlines in the summer of 2023 when an explosion went off, leaving his lips and chin a bloodied, devastating mess.
“When the injury happened, we were fighting, so I continued for another half hour until the commander stopped me,” he said.
At the medevac station, the doctor told Denus he couldn’t help. Denus eventually received a couple surgeries but needed further medical treatment, leading to our mission. Throughout the ordeal, he’s kept his sense of humor.
“As the photos show, it was a really horrible injury,” he laughed. “My friends and I joke about it. What else can we do?”
After the team operated on his lips and palate, Denus appeared quite handsome. He talked about his 13-year-old son’s birthday and asked us to sign his Ukrainian flag.
“There needs to be more missions because other soldiers need surgeries,” he said. “Please come again and tell others. We’re so grateful.”
Ruslan Prykhodko, Ukraine’s Deputy Minister of Veterans Affairs, also expressed his gratitude. During the trip, we were honored to receive two visits from him. With great warmth and openheartedness, Prykhodko thanked the team for their remarkable work and shared his hopes for better healthcare, including mental health.
Military chaplain Myron on the day he attended two funerals in one afternoon / photo by Lauren Yanks
While assessing patients, Dr. Frodel listens carefully to their stories. When a wife placed her arm around her severely disfigured husband during Frodel’s examination, his eyes well up with tears.
“These are people filled with the usual hopes and fears but under constant attack,” Dr. Frodel said. “We can learn from their immense courage. It’s not just soldiers. It’s the spirit of the people.”
Indeed, the spirit and determination of the Ukrainian people are striking. In search of that determination outside hospital walls, a few of us spent an afternoon at Garrison Church in the heart of Lviv. The Jesuit Church was the town’s first baroque building and has become a center for military funerals. We arrive just as the funeral for two soldiers begin. Over 100 mourners gather: some cry quietly while others stare into the distance. An elderly woman suddenly bursts out screaming, as if encapsulating the madness of war. No one seems to notice.
Inside the church, I meet Myron, a military chaplain for a number of hospitals. His posture is heavy while his deep-set eyes—sensitive and pained—catch mine. I am instantly drawn to him. We talk for a bit and then hug.
“It is so very hard,” he whispers.
Dr. Suresh Mohan, Assistant Professor at Yale School of Medicine, with Dr. Frodel at Superhumans Center, a private medical facility in Lviv
The team agrees that while performing surgeries is deeply gratifying, the most important part is education and training. Throughout the mission, Ukrainian surgeons observed and assisted, empowering them to carry the work forward.
“There’s an overwhelming need for advanced facial reconstruction in Ukraine,” said Dr. Abraham. “We seek to build a foundation that continues after we leave.”
Vitaliy Panchenko was one of these surgeons. He’s trained with the Face-to-Face group every mission since 2023.
“The missions greatly motivate us, open new horizons, and strengthen our confidence,” he told me. “They are great teachers. The most complex surgeries, like microvascular, are difficult—we never had equipment before. Although there are challenges, we improve, and I share my experience with junior colleagues.”
Despite the Ukrainian doctors’ improvement, Dr. Abraham notices their exhaustion. After years of warfare, burnout settles in and many healthcare workers are deployed to the frontlines, including the nurses. Prior to the war, the hospital had eight to 10 nurses on each floor. Now there are two nurses in charge of 40 patients. These challenges demonstrate the need for organizations to collaborate.
Susan Ketigian enjoys a moment with a soldier the team has operated on during each of their missions
The week before we arrive, Dr. Suresh Mohan, a 36-year-old facial plastic surgeon and assistant professor at Yale School of Medicine, took part in a similar mission with Dr. Frodel at a private medical facility called Superhumans Center. With high-profile donors, Superhumans has more resources than military hospitals. The First Lady of Ukraine, Olena Zelenska, has been a great supporter.
“When Superhumans was launched two years ago, we interpreted its name like this: Ukrainians are not victims, but superheroes,” she said at a recent conference. “What unites us is not trauma but overcoming it together.”
Dr. Mohan’s journey began last August, when a group of Ukrainian surgeons visited Yale New Haven Hospital to observe him and his colleagues as they performed surgeries. He grew close to them, and a few months later, an email arrived asking for volunteers to come to Lviv. With two young children, Dr. Mohan was hesitant, but after conferring with surgeons who’d gone before—including a touching call with Dr. Frodel—he stepped up.
“I learned that a service mission is not about giving to others, but receiving lessons offered in return,” he said.
Dr. Mohan’s trip was funded by Doctors United for Ukraine (DU4U)—a non-profit formed by doctors at Yale to deliver medical aid. One of its founders is Dr. Andrey Zinchuk, a pulmonary, critical care and sleep physician. Born in Lviv, Dr. Zinchuk arrived in the U.S. as a teenager. When the full-scale invasion occurred, he and two other Yale School of Medicine faculty—all from Ukraine—joined forces to create DU4U. Dr. Mohan is now in charge of their surgical missions.
“Suresh is very motivated, and a talented surgeon,” said Dr. Zinchuk. “And he’s a great teacher—a vital part of missions.”
Indeed, Dr. Mohan loved teaching in Ukraine and recalls the complexity of the surgeries. One patient was just 19 and lost nearly half of his lower jaw.
“He not only had a jaw injury but developed an infection and the bone died,” he said. “We took a portion of the bone from his leg and used it to reconstruct his jaw. The Ukrainian surgeons performed most of the operation while we provided guidance.”
Ruslan Prykhodko (left) honors Manoj Abraham and the surgery team / photo by Lauren Yanks
Dr. Mohan also recalls his experiences, often quite difficult, outside the hospital. “We saw this soccer field—the whole field—that is now a giant graveyard because the cemetery nearby ran out of space,” he said.
While visiting the graveyard, he witnessed women and children crying. “That’s when I lost it,” he said, choking up. “War is much different than what we see on television.”
Doctors Abraham and Mohan have spoken about joining forces on their upcoming missions, enabling better cooperation and enhanced outreach.
“I think being part of Face-to-Face will be very positive,” said Dr. Mohan. “It’ll allow for multiple missions with smaller teams, which will be more effective. Together, we can train surgeons with greater depth and enhance the education.”
Dr. Abraham also looks forward to the collaboration.
“We accomplish a lot more as a unit,” he said. “It also breeds greater innovation.”
Ultimately, observing this remarkable team—the doctors, nurses, technicians, and everyone else I met—renewed my hope in humanity. Their dedication and spirit demonstrate the power of compassion and serve as a reminder that each of us—in our own unique way—can shine light into the darkness.
Lauren Yanks ’19 M.Div. is a writer and professor and Founder of the Blue Butterfly Foundation, a nonprofit organization that rescues and educates women and children who have been trafficked and enslaved.