If your ship can be salvaged, the Padua Station Hive can do it. The robotic waldos under their command can rip your ship apart and put it back together quick as you please, if you don't mind the paint being a mess.
Those friendly yellow beach balls sporting hydraulic arms that could rip steel apart with ease? That's Hereford and Libby. Two genehacked pygmy marmosets, permanently installed in a body that's all armor and hydraulic badass. They stand ready to play bouncer for Jupiter Trojan asteroids, or fetch and rip your ship apart to get your corpse free of it. They're also pretty handy with the welder.
The job won't be pretty, but it'll be thorough.
You're not about to entrust your body to a human doctor, are you?
Padua Station's automatic medical facilities don't get tired, and they don't make mistakes. Your body is a simple machine, best maintained by computer algorithms and nanorobotic surgeons far simpler than the Hive. So don't worry, they won't be messing around in your body.
They might decide they like your mind, though.
End of the line, or start of the circle. Either way, no more laying around being a meat popsicle for you, human. This is Padua station, home to the Hive-mind that's searched for and rescued your frozen corpse out of deep space. Here's where you come back from the dead.
By the time you're thawed, you're as repaired as science can make you. Micrometeorite impact? Undone. Radiation damage got your DNA in a bad way? They'll splice it back together. Free radicals? Scrubbed.
But what about the brain damage, you ask? No problem. Slap a little new meat in there and let the neurons link themselves. They'll figure out how. Of course, that might mean some hallucinations, seizures, and a little time spent being criminally insane, but you'll pull through. Not that you'll be "you" anymore, but you never really were. You're just a Hive of one.
You'll be seeing a lot of him. Located in the L4 Lagrange point, Padua Station hangs in the middle of a titanic tug-of-war between Jupiter and the Sun. Every orbit out to the Oort Cloud starts here, where you can take a screaming dive through Jupiter's singing radiation belts on your way out of the system.
Out here, the singing of the spheres might be more than just the radio noise of gas giants. The Hive's found a song they can't stop listening to. But is it the howl of a lonely Laika, or the siren's call of a danger as old as the universe?