She awoke and found herself staring at a cold, white ceiling. She lay a few moments longer, at rest.
She swallowed to moisten her dry throat, “well, at least I survived,” she said.
She tried to sit up, but felt something restraining her right hand. With a heave, she pushed herself onto her right side and examined her arm.
From the elbow down it was no longer flesh, it was black metal. With a thought, she flexed the long, black fingers, a match for the real ones on her left hand.
She smiled. The operation was successful; she was whole.