Armenian Soldier a Step Closer to Battlefield : Glendale: Artour Ovtchian leaves hospital after treatment. He vows to return to fight for his people’s autonomy.

An Armenian soldier who arrived at Glendale Adventist Medical Center four weeks ago in a wheelchair celebrated his release from the hospital Friday, saying he is determined to return to the war that nearly killed him.

“You know when there are bullets flying, one will most likely hit you rather than miss you,” said Artour Ovtchian, who will be 22 on Wednesday and now walks with a cane. “I am going back out of necessity. It is much more than patriotism.”

Ovtchian, who was partially paralyzed by a rifle shot to the head, faces many more weeks of intensive physical therapy but is resolved to return to combat in his war-torn land--even though doctors say he has suffered permanent coordination impairment and may never be able to fight again.

“Nothing against the medical field,” Ovtchian said through an interpreter at his farewell party in a hospital garden. “But my recovery depends on me. . . . They don’t know me well enough.”

On Friday, hospital staff and representatives from the large Armenian American community who adopted him celebrated his release with cake and ice cream as they sang “Happy Birthday” and gave him two tickets to Disneyland.

But the attention showered on Ovtchian still makes him uneasy, as evidenced by the uncomfortable smile on his face throughout the celebration. “I can’t get used to it,” he said simply.

In April, Ovtchian was hit in the head by a single Azerbaijani rifle bullet, which caused a permanent damage to his coordination and strength on the left side of his body, doctors said.

“He has a big desire to go back and be a freedom fighter,” said his physician, Dr. Aaron Selzer, who added that Ovtchian has a hole in his skull larger than a golf ball. “But obviously, going back to fight is not healthy.”

This isn’t the first time fighting a bloody civil war almost killed Ovtchian. Two years ago, he was wounded in the jaw and shrapnel punctured his lungs, he said.

“I have seen many other soldiers in the same situation as me,” Ovtchian said. “But I believe the brain has the capability to recover itself.”

Ovtchian, a soldier since the age of 16, took part in the latest conflict in a century of wars fought by the Armenians. The battles have claimed 15,000 lives since the mostly Armenian population of Nagorno-Karabakh, formerly part of the Soviet Union, asserted its independence from Azerbaijan six years ago.

He was brought to the Glendale hospital by the Armenian National Committee and the Armenian Culture Foundation. The groups paid for his trip to Southern California and the hospital is footing the $40,000 bill for Ovtchian’s four-week stay.

Ovtchian is being put up at a local hotel by the Armenian Culture Foundation, and will continue treatment as an outpatient.

Besides two Armenian American nurses, only members of the Armenian community have been able to speak to Ovtchian about the troubles in his homeland in his native tongue. A few letters of encouragement from his family lifted his spirits, Selzer said.

But he yearns for the day he can return to his country, when his “fighting friends” will pick him up from the airport and a series of welcome-home parties will begin.

“I look forward to the conflict being over and if I can’t continue, I hope others continue what we have started,” Ovtchian said.