One moment I was on my way to work, walking to the station to catch my train, like a thousand other mornings and millions of other people.

My memory is sketchy, I have snapshots swirling, jumbled through my head. I can see blood, a cutting pain, the sound of sirens and flashing lights. I remember people rushing around me with loud voices and bright lights. Then the clinical smell of a dim lit room with muffled voices.

The police said it was a random attack; I was in the wrong place at the wrong time. They said the perpetrator was crazy, a schizophrenic, who thought he was a surgeon. It is unlikely he will ever face court. Apparently he picked me to slice open because I had his mother’s eyes. When arrested he was eating my ovaries while watching ‘Silence of the Lambs’ on his DVD player. They say he laughed loudly at the police and invited them to join him.

I believe I may have seen him walking towards me. I have this re-occurring vision of a man holding some white cloth in front of me. I think he put the cloth to my face as he grabbed at me, before the lights went out.

My husband has been supportive; he does his best to keep me from slipping further into self-pity. "We can still have our family; we can adopt children," he keeps explaining to me, while constantly holding and caressing my hand. Even so, I can see all the disappointment and rage he carries in his eyes.

They say everything that happens has a purpose. I don’t believe I will ever understand why this was meant to happen, nor do I know how to pick-up the pieces and move on. It has been two months now and they say I have recovered fully. I walk from the hospital and re-commence my life, a barren empty shell masquerading as a woman.