An antitank missile took Shalev Bitton's leg, but not his faith 

Ahospital rehabilitation department is a complicated place to visit. The very air feels like a combination of sadness and cautious hope.

Along the corridors of Tel Hashomer’s rehab center, there are patients in wheelchairs and some who have graduated to walkers, but one thing they have in common: All of them are recovering from severe injuries, trying to get back to themselves as best they can, to restore their maximum abilities — and also to get used to a disability that will be with them for life.

As I get closer to Room 6, Shalev Bitton’s room, I feel my hands getting clammy. What do you say to such a young man who was critically wounded from an antitank missile, who has spent the last year in the hospital? What do you tell someone who lost his leg and his close friend?

But Shalev Bitton solved my dilemma. He opened the door to the room himself — standing on two legs — his right leg, and his left prosthesis. And he’s as hospitable as can be, under the circumstances. “Welcome to my little kingdom,” he says, breaking the ice as he points around the spacious room whose centerpiece is a hospital bed, the walls lined with photos and letters of encouragement.

“So, how are you?” I ask.

Bitton looks directly at me, but not in an unfriendly way. “Do you really want to know?” he asks. “Baruch Hashem, I feel good. I thank Him for every minute that I am here, and believe me, it’s not to be taken for granted.”