My eventful time in the Air Force has come to an end. This past Friday was my last working day. I went to my "final out" and had my military identification literally confiscated. The Air Force paid for my medical education. In turn I served 7 years on active duty. Both sides have held up the bargain and then some! It was strange to take the uniform off for the last time. In fact, I did not peel off my "airmen battle uniform" until about 8:30 at night. It just did not seem right. But, all things in this world come to an end. I take away many things from my military career. As I relect upon it all, several concepts stick out to me as the most important.
First, "Leaving It Better" is something that I will strive to do in the future. I arrived at Offutt Air Force Base in June of 2004 for my first assignment. There were 8 of us family medicine interns. Our mission was to train for 3 years to become board certified family doctors. Our training took us from the hospital at Offutt to the massive University of Nebraska Medical Center to community hospitals in Omaha and even to rural Nebraska. We received excellent training. My "classmates" and I decided early on that we wanted to have a positive impact on the program. There was a lot of negativity surrounding us. We wanted to rise above that. It was a stressful 3 years there. As a class, we grew closer as we made it through all the challenges of learning how to be a real doctor. We all grew to love Nebraska. I actually enjoyed my residency training due in large part to the excellent people I met there. In our last year, myself and my good friend Brent Barnstuble were elected "chief residents" of the entire training program. We worked hard to improve things for everyone. It was an honor to serve in this capacity. At graduation, we presented several gifts to the staff at both Offut Air Force Base and the University of Nebraska to remember us. These pictures now hang on the walls at both of those facilities. I truly believe in my heart that we were the best class that program had seen in many years. We left it a better place.
Second, I have seen clearly that building relationships in life is incredibly important. In the military, we meet so many people along the way. People come into your life for periods of time and then are gone in a flash it seems. This is even more obvious with the military lifestyle involving deployments and frequent moves. I think my deployments demonstarte this more than anything. On my 2008 deployment, I met Dr. Yama Musleh of the Afghan National Army. I have written about him before. We became close friends in the middle of a combat zone. We worked side by side trying to build up the Afghan National Army. This was and is still today a critically important mission. When I left for home on 31 October 2008, it was hard to say bye because I knew that it probably was the last time I would see Yama. But, that was not the case as we had an amazing reunion this spring. (see my previous entry "Some Bonds Are Never Broken") On my 2010 deployment to Afghanistan, Dr. Mike Greene was my wingman. I have also written about him, too. We worked harder than we ever will in our lives for six months. We saw the worst injuries imaginable day in and day out. Our time at the Bagram hospital was intense. We leaned on one another every day. On 3 July 2010, we parted ways at the airport in Baltimore after our journey back from the war. Mike went back to his life in Japan and I returned to Charleston. We have not had much contact since then. That is okay. Eventually our paths will cross again and we will have much to talk about for sure!
Third, I have learned just how important it is to make memories. In the military, the only constant is change. We are asked to adapt, innovate, and overcome all the time. We are asked to do things that we never thought possible. Those that make a career out of the military move their lives from base to base on a regular basis. The good people that we meet along the way often fade away. It is inevitable. But, good memories can last a lifetime. My time in Charleston from 2007 to 2011 has been very memorable. I had never lived anywhere outside of the midwest. I'll never forget getting out of the car for the first time in Charleston on 9 July 2007 and feeling the stifling heat of the south. However, it did not take long to discover all the fabulous things here. The history here is so interesting. The landscape is so unique. The water is beautiful. In a nutshell, Charleston is a great place to live. I will not soon forget running on the beach with my running group, kayaking on Shem Creek, or the carriage tours through the historic district. I will not soon forget all the good times in Mount Pleasant (suburb of Charleston). They don't call it Mount Perfect for nothing! I will not soon forget all the laughs at parties and all the fun in the sun. I will miss Charleston, but the memories will live on and on.
My blog "Life After Afghanistan" has been a way for me to make sense of life back here in the states after 2 deployments. It has been a way to think about all my military experiences. I move forward with many lessons learned since 22 May 2000 when I raised my right hand and swore to "defend the constitution against all enemies". I hope that my next career is as meaningful. And, I think it will be as long as I remember to leave it better, build relationships, and make memories!!!
Monday, June 20, 2011
Saturday, June 4, 2011
Lesson #6 - Our Pride Runs Deep
My entire family remembers our prayers before dinner every single night growing up in Lakewood, Ohio. We would say "Grace" and then say a prayer for the entire Hayes family "especially Uncle Dennis". For years, the meal was not started until the words "especially Uncle Dennis" were uttered.
My Uncle Dennis went to Vietnam in the late 60's. He was the only person in our family to fight in that war. I am told that he volunteered to go. He had been working as a teacher after graduating from Ohio University. Eventually he gave in to the pressure of the draft and just decided that it was his time to go. He did a one year tour in Vietnam as a soldier in the U.S. Army. Our family knows very little about what happened during that year. Uncle Dennis was not one to talk about his experiences in Vietnam. Can you blame him? However, it is fair to say that the war affected his life profoundly.
My Uncle Dennis was a worldly man. He literally travelled the world. After Vietnam, there was a time when he lived in Canada. He eventually settled in San Francisico and lived there for many years. He was there during my childhood years. Neither my siblings or myself knew him at all except in pictures. My Dad and the rest of his brothers were definitely worried about him which led to the "especially Uncle Dennis" prayer. Uncle Dennis got married to my Aunt Elizabeth and eventually they moved to Chicago. They worked very hard there as travel agents. Some of my family got to know him better during that time. Uncle Dennis became a much more active part of our family in the late 80's and 90's. He was a fun person to be around and always loved a party. He cared about his nieces and nephews a great deal. He was a character just like many in the Hayes Family.
It was not until 2007 when I really came to know Uncle Dennis. He was searching for a place to spend his retirement years. His travels brought him to Charleston, South Carolina. I had been transferred to Charleston Air Force Base in the summer of 2007. I did not know many people there, so it was great to have a family member in town. Uncle Dennis was drawn to the charm of Charleston. He decided to stay a while to see if this was the right place for him.. He rented a condo about a mile down the road from me. A few weeks turned into a few months and so forth. We spent a lot of time together that fall and winter. It was really fun getting to know him. We attended Charleston Riverdogs baseball games, watched our hometown Cleveland Indians play in the playoffs, and even went to a South Carolina Gamecock football game. (where I will soon train in sports medicine) We discussed all sorts of things like politics, relationships, sports, our family, etc. Uncle Dennis was a fun person to be around (most of the time!). I will never forget when he did the "polar plunge" into the Atlantic Ocean on January 1st. It was charity event held every year in Charleston. He came running out the water and said, "That was exhilarating!"
In early January of 2008, I received the news that I would be deploying to Afghanistan. All I knew for weeks was that I was going along with a U.S. Army unit, and it was going to be somewhere deep in Afghanistan. This was a very uncertain time for me as I prepared to leave. I filled out a will knowing that the unthinkable could actually happen to me. During this time, Uncle Dennis and I talked a lot. His message to me was that I was not going as a soldier, rather I was going as a healer. He said, "The soldiers need you." That phrase hit me hard. I remembered that countless times during my two tours in Afghanistan. I would think to myself "the soldiers need you" when the times got tough which was frequent.
In February of 2011 Uncle Dennis told us all that he was battling liver cancer. He shocked us by telling us that he had returned in 1969 from Vietnam with the Hepatitis C Virus. This was surely the main causative agent of his cancer. He was near death by the time we all got to see him. I remember vaguely that Uncle Dennis had told me that he wanted to be buried at Arlington National Cemetery. Now we were all talking about when this might happen.
On May 31st, 2011 a great group of Dennis' friends as well as the Hayes Family arrived at Arlington for his ceremony. We all were led out to the columbarium (a group of buildings that stores the ashes in compartments). We gathered together around the urn filled with Uncle Dennis' ashes. It was surrounded by 7 members of the Honor Guard in impeccable uniforms. The army chaplain said a few words about Sergeant Dennis Albert Hayes and his service in Vietnam. The Honor Guard members were holding a large flag. They folded it into a triangle in a precise and deliberate fashion. It was passed down the line. Then, it was presented to Aunt Elizabeth. In the distance on a hilltop a group of soldiers rang out 3 shots. When it became quiet again, a soldier to our left played TAPS on his bugle. We all then walked over to the columbarium. The army chaplain led us in several prayers. Aunt Elizabeth then placed the urn into the compartment. We all walked past and paid our last respects. It was a simple but incredibly powerful ceremony.
Sergeant Dennis Hayes served one tour in Vietnam. This was more than enough. It was certainly life changing. He lamented most if not all of his time there. Nevertheless, he chose to be laid to rest in our nation's most hallowed ground. My Uncle Dennis served our nation. No matter what the circumstances of our service entails, there is a certain feeling that all veterans seem to have. We feel a certain pride knowing that we spent time wearing our nation's uniform. And, in the end our pride runs deep.
My Uncle Dennis went to Vietnam in the late 60's. He was the only person in our family to fight in that war. I am told that he volunteered to go. He had been working as a teacher after graduating from Ohio University. Eventually he gave in to the pressure of the draft and just decided that it was his time to go. He did a one year tour in Vietnam as a soldier in the U.S. Army. Our family knows very little about what happened during that year. Uncle Dennis was not one to talk about his experiences in Vietnam. Can you blame him? However, it is fair to say that the war affected his life profoundly.
My Uncle Dennis was a worldly man. He literally travelled the world. After Vietnam, there was a time when he lived in Canada. He eventually settled in San Francisico and lived there for many years. He was there during my childhood years. Neither my siblings or myself knew him at all except in pictures. My Dad and the rest of his brothers were definitely worried about him which led to the "especially Uncle Dennis" prayer. Uncle Dennis got married to my Aunt Elizabeth and eventually they moved to Chicago. They worked very hard there as travel agents. Some of my family got to know him better during that time. Uncle Dennis became a much more active part of our family in the late 80's and 90's. He was a fun person to be around and always loved a party. He cared about his nieces and nephews a great deal. He was a character just like many in the Hayes Family.
It was not until 2007 when I really came to know Uncle Dennis. He was searching for a place to spend his retirement years. His travels brought him to Charleston, South Carolina. I had been transferred to Charleston Air Force Base in the summer of 2007. I did not know many people there, so it was great to have a family member in town. Uncle Dennis was drawn to the charm of Charleston. He decided to stay a while to see if this was the right place for him.. He rented a condo about a mile down the road from me. A few weeks turned into a few months and so forth. We spent a lot of time together that fall and winter. It was really fun getting to know him. We attended Charleston Riverdogs baseball games, watched our hometown Cleveland Indians play in the playoffs, and even went to a South Carolina Gamecock football game. (where I will soon train in sports medicine) We discussed all sorts of things like politics, relationships, sports, our family, etc. Uncle Dennis was a fun person to be around (most of the time!). I will never forget when he did the "polar plunge" into the Atlantic Ocean on January 1st. It was charity event held every year in Charleston. He came running out the water and said, "That was exhilarating!"
In early January of 2008, I received the news that I would be deploying to Afghanistan. All I knew for weeks was that I was going along with a U.S. Army unit, and it was going to be somewhere deep in Afghanistan. This was a very uncertain time for me as I prepared to leave. I filled out a will knowing that the unthinkable could actually happen to me. During this time, Uncle Dennis and I talked a lot. His message to me was that I was not going as a soldier, rather I was going as a healer. He said, "The soldiers need you." That phrase hit me hard. I remembered that countless times during my two tours in Afghanistan. I would think to myself "the soldiers need you" when the times got tough which was frequent.
In February of 2011 Uncle Dennis told us all that he was battling liver cancer. He shocked us by telling us that he had returned in 1969 from Vietnam with the Hepatitis C Virus. This was surely the main causative agent of his cancer. He was near death by the time we all got to see him. I remember vaguely that Uncle Dennis had told me that he wanted to be buried at Arlington National Cemetery. Now we were all talking about when this might happen.
On May 31st, 2011 a great group of Dennis' friends as well as the Hayes Family arrived at Arlington for his ceremony. We all were led out to the columbarium (a group of buildings that stores the ashes in compartments). We gathered together around the urn filled with Uncle Dennis' ashes. It was surrounded by 7 members of the Honor Guard in impeccable uniforms. The army chaplain said a few words about Sergeant Dennis Albert Hayes and his service in Vietnam. The Honor Guard members were holding a large flag. They folded it into a triangle in a precise and deliberate fashion. It was passed down the line. Then, it was presented to Aunt Elizabeth. In the distance on a hilltop a group of soldiers rang out 3 shots. When it became quiet again, a soldier to our left played TAPS on his bugle. We all then walked over to the columbarium. The army chaplain led us in several prayers. Aunt Elizabeth then placed the urn into the compartment. We all walked past and paid our last respects. It was a simple but incredibly powerful ceremony.
Sergeant Dennis Hayes served one tour in Vietnam. This was more than enough. It was certainly life changing. He lamented most if not all of his time there. Nevertheless, he chose to be laid to rest in our nation's most hallowed ground. My Uncle Dennis served our nation. No matter what the circumstances of our service entails, there is a certain feeling that all veterans seem to have. We feel a certain pride knowing that we spent time wearing our nation's uniform. And, in the end our pride runs deep.
Friday, May 13, 2011
Lesson #5 - It Takes You Down a Different Path
Looking back, I really had no idea what I was getting myself into when I joined the U.S. Air Force in May of 2000. I knew that my entire medical education would be paid for and that I would not have to worry about overwhelming student loans. I knew that my sense of duty to our country would be fulfilled. Other that that, the road was uncertain. 11 years later, I can now look back and see where the military took me.
Every so often someone asks me if I am happy that I joined the military or if I would do it again. These questions make me pause for a while. Why is that? Well, it is because I do not have a good answer! Maybe that answer will come in time, but for now I can only tell these folks what happened as a result of my decision to join the military. It is easy for people to see the medals and the achievements. Heck, all you have to do is look at my Department of Defense Form 214 (the old DD 214) to see exactly what my career entailed. But, those things do not tell the whole story. Not even close.
The untold story is one of disappointment and frustration. Reality is that I missed out on way too many weddings, a lot of graduations, and even several reunions. My friends and family enjoyed these events a great deal. But, my committment to the Air Force made it difficult or even impossible for me to be there. I cannot get those times back ever. That is disappointing to me. Being able to actually come to important events is just one reason that I am leaving the Air Force. I want to actually see my nieces and nephews graduate from high school. I want to go to some weddings. I would like to plan a family reunion. And, I want to be there when my sister gets her college degree!
A major area of frustration for me during my 11 years in the military has been with personal relationships. Most of my friends are married and have young children. I am happy for them. It is really great to see their kids grow up. It is fabulous to see their marriages flourish. And, it was a blast to vacation with all of my friends in 2009. We had 7 kids under the age of 5 under one roof for a week. Wow! Obviously, I mention this because I am single with no kids. This is not where I expected to be at the ripe age of 35 to say the least. It has been difficult to sustain relationships for me. A lot of this has to do with me and my shortcomings. But, I think any woman with a good head on her shoulders knows that the military lifestyle is really difficult. Few are willing and able to sign up for this. Most of my married military friends found their spouses before all the insanity of miltary service began. For me, it has not been hard to meet women. But, it sure has been hard to keep them!
I mention these trials and tribulations because they are not usually a topic of conversation. The sacrifices that military members make is usually thought of as long work days, time away from home overseas, putting one's life in danger, and sometimes making the ultimate sacrifice. All of those things are very real. But, there is much more to being in the military. When the next person asks me about whether or not to join the military, I will pause and simply say that it takes you down a different path.
Every so often someone asks me if I am happy that I joined the military or if I would do it again. These questions make me pause for a while. Why is that? Well, it is because I do not have a good answer! Maybe that answer will come in time, but for now I can only tell these folks what happened as a result of my decision to join the military. It is easy for people to see the medals and the achievements. Heck, all you have to do is look at my Department of Defense Form 214 (the old DD 214) to see exactly what my career entailed. But, those things do not tell the whole story. Not even close.
The untold story is one of disappointment and frustration. Reality is that I missed out on way too many weddings, a lot of graduations, and even several reunions. My friends and family enjoyed these events a great deal. But, my committment to the Air Force made it difficult or even impossible for me to be there. I cannot get those times back ever. That is disappointing to me. Being able to actually come to important events is just one reason that I am leaving the Air Force. I want to actually see my nieces and nephews graduate from high school. I want to go to some weddings. I would like to plan a family reunion. And, I want to be there when my sister gets her college degree!
A major area of frustration for me during my 11 years in the military has been with personal relationships. Most of my friends are married and have young children. I am happy for them. It is really great to see their kids grow up. It is fabulous to see their marriages flourish. And, it was a blast to vacation with all of my friends in 2009. We had 7 kids under the age of 5 under one roof for a week. Wow! Obviously, I mention this because I am single with no kids. This is not where I expected to be at the ripe age of 35 to say the least. It has been difficult to sustain relationships for me. A lot of this has to do with me and my shortcomings. But, I think any woman with a good head on her shoulders knows that the military lifestyle is really difficult. Few are willing and able to sign up for this. Most of my married military friends found their spouses before all the insanity of miltary service began. For me, it has not been hard to meet women. But, it sure has been hard to keep them!
I mention these trials and tribulations because they are not usually a topic of conversation. The sacrifices that military members make is usually thought of as long work days, time away from home overseas, putting one's life in danger, and sometimes making the ultimate sacrifice. All of those things are very real. But, there is much more to being in the military. When the next person asks me about whether or not to join the military, I will pause and simply say that it takes you down a different path.
Saturday, May 7, 2011
Lesson #4 - Dig a Little Deeper
After you sign on the dotted line to join the military, you are basically property of the U.S. government. "They" can do anything with you. This past week one of our medics was taken from our clinic and moved to the base gate to be a military cop. She now carries a gun and is tasked with protecting our base. The increased threat level necessitated more security. In 2010, I was astounded to fine out that the group practice manager (basically a medical office manager in uniform) from our clinic in Charleston was deployed to a very dangerous base deep in Afghanistan. Why? The military found out that she speaks Polish. A polish interpreter was needed there, so there she went. I could go on and on with stories like this. It was in Afghanistan that I learned how to deal with these surprises and challenges. When life gives you lemons, make lemonade, right?
Nothing could have fully prepared me for my deployment to the hospital at Bagram Air Field. I arrived on Christmas Eve 2009 and finally departed on June 28, 2010. It was the most intense 6 months of my life. There were many other medical people there working at the hospital that felt the exact same way. There was a never ending supply of wounded coming through our doors. The hospital would fill up, a plane would take a load of patients to Germany, and then the hospital would just fill up again. The work pace was insane! We were treating the worst trauma patients imaginable. The medics were giving high powered drugs in the helicopters to keep the patients alive. The nurses were working cycles of three days on and one day off, which is about twice as many hours as they normally worked back home. The radiologists worked 12 hour shifts every day for six months in a row because there was only 2 of them. The surgical subspecialists like our neurosurgeon were on call every minute of their entire deployment. The head trauma surgeon was responsible for the entire hospital 24 hours a day for six months. We worked hours like this because there was no other choice.
For me, it was a daily grind. Each day I had to see all my patients by 0630 in the morning. I learned quickly to review the daily labs while downing a large cup of coffee, so that I could be functional upon arriving on the hospital ward. By 0730 I would have already seen 5-10 complicated patients and given updates on them to the entire medical staff. It was challenging to say the least. This made my residency training look like a walk in the park. 3 of us doctors covered a 28 bed hospital ward 24/7. We all worked about 75 hours a week on average with no days off. This process went on and on through January, February, March, etc. It seemed like it would never end. I leaned on my good friend Dr. Mike Greene quite a bit. He kept me going when I was about to lose it, and I tried to do the same for him. I started blogging about my experiences shortly after arrival at Bagram. It was like therapy for me. It was totally necessary for me to process an intense experience and move on as soon as possible. There was surely another difficult situation right around the corner.
I worked every day for 5 months without a day off. That is not healthy! That is not how it is supposed to be! Oh well, that was the way it had to be. I remember constantly telling myself to step up to the plate each day. The wounded needed us to be ready at all times to give them the best medical care possible. It did not matter if it was 4 in the morning or 4 in the afternoon. The stakes were high. My Uncle Dennis, a Vietnam veteran, told me that "the troops need you". Those words echoed in my ears on many tough days. I just kept reminding myself that one day this would all end. And, I prayed A LOT! I needed strength from God. All those prayers from home definitely helped. Thank you!!! We all needed each other to make it through because we were experiencing something out of realm of normal human experience. The injuries were just so severe.
There are times in life when you simply have to put everything aside and do the job. At Bagram, we all had to focus on our job no matter what. It is amazing what we can do when we set our minds to it. "Service Before Self" is an Air Force core value. That was never more evident to me than at the hospital on Bagram Air Field. We were all asked to go above and beyond what we thought was possible. We all had to dig a little deeper until we could say that the mission was accomplished.
Nothing could have fully prepared me for my deployment to the hospital at Bagram Air Field. I arrived on Christmas Eve 2009 and finally departed on June 28, 2010. It was the most intense 6 months of my life. There were many other medical people there working at the hospital that felt the exact same way. There was a never ending supply of wounded coming through our doors. The hospital would fill up, a plane would take a load of patients to Germany, and then the hospital would just fill up again. The work pace was insane! We were treating the worst trauma patients imaginable. The medics were giving high powered drugs in the helicopters to keep the patients alive. The nurses were working cycles of three days on and one day off, which is about twice as many hours as they normally worked back home. The radiologists worked 12 hour shifts every day for six months in a row because there was only 2 of them. The surgical subspecialists like our neurosurgeon were on call every minute of their entire deployment. The head trauma surgeon was responsible for the entire hospital 24 hours a day for six months. We worked hours like this because there was no other choice.
For me, it was a daily grind. Each day I had to see all my patients by 0630 in the morning. I learned quickly to review the daily labs while downing a large cup of coffee, so that I could be functional upon arriving on the hospital ward. By 0730 I would have already seen 5-10 complicated patients and given updates on them to the entire medical staff. It was challenging to say the least. This made my residency training look like a walk in the park. 3 of us doctors covered a 28 bed hospital ward 24/7. We all worked about 75 hours a week on average with no days off. This process went on and on through January, February, March, etc. It seemed like it would never end. I leaned on my good friend Dr. Mike Greene quite a bit. He kept me going when I was about to lose it, and I tried to do the same for him. I started blogging about my experiences shortly after arrival at Bagram. It was like therapy for me. It was totally necessary for me to process an intense experience and move on as soon as possible. There was surely another difficult situation right around the corner.
I worked every day for 5 months without a day off. That is not healthy! That is not how it is supposed to be! Oh well, that was the way it had to be. I remember constantly telling myself to step up to the plate each day. The wounded needed us to be ready at all times to give them the best medical care possible. It did not matter if it was 4 in the morning or 4 in the afternoon. The stakes were high. My Uncle Dennis, a Vietnam veteran, told me that "the troops need you". Those words echoed in my ears on many tough days. I just kept reminding myself that one day this would all end. And, I prayed A LOT! I needed strength from God. All those prayers from home definitely helped. Thank you!!! We all needed each other to make it through because we were experiencing something out of realm of normal human experience. The injuries were just so severe.
There are times in life when you simply have to put everything aside and do the job. At Bagram, we all had to focus on our job no matter what. It is amazing what we can do when we set our minds to it. "Service Before Self" is an Air Force core value. That was never more evident to me than at the hospital on Bagram Air Field. We were all asked to go above and beyond what we thought was possible. We all had to dig a little deeper until we could say that the mission was accomplished.
Monday, May 2, 2011
Lesson #3 - Don't Give Up!
None of us Americans will ever forget that fateful September day when the world as we knew it changed. Since 9/11, the "War on Terror" has come at great cost to our nation and the world. This morning, I took out my dog Maddy at 0630 for her morning walk. I picked up my newspaper and noticed the face of Osama bin Laden. I nearly wept as I read the story of how he was brought to justice. It made me feel proud of my service in Afghanistan. Many of us did not believe Osama bin Laden would ever be found. And, now he is dead!
As I reflected upon this remarkable story today, I could not help but think back about my own American story. Bear with me here! I grew up in Lakewood, Ohio which is a middle class suburb of Cleveland. There was a deep sense of patriotism and duty instilled in me by my family, my teachers, and my friends. I remember vividly reciting the "Pledge of Allegiance" every day at Grant Elementary School. We held our hands over our hearts and stated, "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America." We were taught to love our country. And, my love for America grew each year. Going through high school, I remember feeling a call to serve our nation. Military service seemed like the obvious choice. However, it would not be until my mid- twenties when this would come to fruition. After all, nothing comes easy for me!
It actually took me 5 tries to join the military. Simply walking into a recruiting office, and walking out in the service was just not in the cards for me. I applied for a Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) scholarship for college. The U.S. Air Force offered me a scholarship, but it was only good for a state school. I wanted to go further away from home, so I enrolled at Marquette University. Before starting college, an Army recruiter approached me about the Army Reserves. I considered this option strongly. I even went through a full physical at the Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS) in downtown Cleveland only to abandon the whole thing when the Army offered me a position as a truck driver.
Several years later, I applied to a number of medical schools during my senior year at Marquette. Medical school is expensive, so I also explored the option of a military scholarship. The Navy actually offered me a scholarship at the time. But, I was not admitted to any medical schools. My day in the military would have to wait. After college graduation, I was a lost soul. It was painful. Once again, I turned to the military for a possible career. I decided that military intelligence would be pretty cool. The Navy had positions and yet again I applied. This was my first experience with the "hurry up and wait" process of the military. Months went by and I was working as a pizza delivery man biding my time. Eventually I could not wait any longer and took a job as a salesmen. One week later the Navy called with a position in officer candidate school (OCS). It was too late.
Fast forward to 2000. I had been accepted and enrolled in medical school in 1999. The U.S. Air Force began recruiting me for a scholarship. However, six weeks into my first semester I went on an extended leave of absence due to some personal issues. Despite this, the recruiter kept calling me. I was really surprised by this, and was honest with him about my situation. He asked me to apply for the scholarship anyway. At that point, I was not even sure I would go back to medical school. But, I forged ahead with the application. In April of 2000, I was put on the wait list for a U.S. Air Force Health Professions Scholarship (HPSP). Several weeks later, I received the good news that my name had moved up the wait list and now I was offered a scholarship. I took it. On May 16, 2000 I raised my right hand and swore to "defend the consitution against all enemies both foreign and domestic"...
Why do I tell this long story of how I entered the Air Force? What does this have to do with Osama bin Laden? Well, it took me 8 years and 5 tries to finally get a commission as an officer in the Air Force. It took our country almost 10 years to find and kill Osama bin Laden. I knew in my heart that serving our country was right for me. The world knew that bringing Osama bin Laden to justice was the right thing to do. The hardest things in life take time and perseverance. We have to be vigilant and tenacious in our quest for what is right. It is never easy. But, when you know that something is right deep down in your heart and you are not sure what to do, DON'T GIVE UP!
As I reflected upon this remarkable story today, I could not help but think back about my own American story. Bear with me here! I grew up in Lakewood, Ohio which is a middle class suburb of Cleveland. There was a deep sense of patriotism and duty instilled in me by my family, my teachers, and my friends. I remember vividly reciting the "Pledge of Allegiance" every day at Grant Elementary School. We held our hands over our hearts and stated, "I pledge allegiance to the flag of the United States of America." We were taught to love our country. And, my love for America grew each year. Going through high school, I remember feeling a call to serve our nation. Military service seemed like the obvious choice. However, it would not be until my mid- twenties when this would come to fruition. After all, nothing comes easy for me!
It actually took me 5 tries to join the military. Simply walking into a recruiting office, and walking out in the service was just not in the cards for me. I applied for a Reserve Officer Training Corps (ROTC) scholarship for college. The U.S. Air Force offered me a scholarship, but it was only good for a state school. I wanted to go further away from home, so I enrolled at Marquette University. Before starting college, an Army recruiter approached me about the Army Reserves. I considered this option strongly. I even went through a full physical at the Military Entrance Processing Station (MEPS) in downtown Cleveland only to abandon the whole thing when the Army offered me a position as a truck driver.
Several years later, I applied to a number of medical schools during my senior year at Marquette. Medical school is expensive, so I also explored the option of a military scholarship. The Navy actually offered me a scholarship at the time. But, I was not admitted to any medical schools. My day in the military would have to wait. After college graduation, I was a lost soul. It was painful. Once again, I turned to the military for a possible career. I decided that military intelligence would be pretty cool. The Navy had positions and yet again I applied. This was my first experience with the "hurry up and wait" process of the military. Months went by and I was working as a pizza delivery man biding my time. Eventually I could not wait any longer and took a job as a salesmen. One week later the Navy called with a position in officer candidate school (OCS). It was too late.
Fast forward to 2000. I had been accepted and enrolled in medical school in 1999. The U.S. Air Force began recruiting me for a scholarship. However, six weeks into my first semester I went on an extended leave of absence due to some personal issues. Despite this, the recruiter kept calling me. I was really surprised by this, and was honest with him about my situation. He asked me to apply for the scholarship anyway. At that point, I was not even sure I would go back to medical school. But, I forged ahead with the application. In April of 2000, I was put on the wait list for a U.S. Air Force Health Professions Scholarship (HPSP). Several weeks later, I received the good news that my name had moved up the wait list and now I was offered a scholarship. I took it. On May 16, 2000 I raised my right hand and swore to "defend the consitution against all enemies both foreign and domestic"...
Why do I tell this long story of how I entered the Air Force? What does this have to do with Osama bin Laden? Well, it took me 8 years and 5 tries to finally get a commission as an officer in the Air Force. It took our country almost 10 years to find and kill Osama bin Laden. I knew in my heart that serving our country was right for me. The world knew that bringing Osama bin Laden to justice was the right thing to do. The hardest things in life take time and perseverance. We have to be vigilant and tenacious in our quest for what is right. It is never easy. But, when you know that something is right deep down in your heart and you are not sure what to do, DON'T GIVE UP!
Sunday, May 1, 2011
Lesson #2 - Some Bonds Are Never Broken
I have met countless people in my 11 years in the U.S. Air Force. Some influenced me greatly. Some were quite forgettable. People often talk about how relationships are one of the most important things in life. After all, little matters more than the people in our lives. Half a world away, I learned some valuable lessons about relationships...
In 2008, I found myself in heavily armed in a combat zone on the outskirts of Kabul, Afghanistan. I was sent to the Kabul Military Training Center as a "mentor". My job was to train Afghan doctors and medics. Our mission was to perform physicals on every Afghan National Army recruit in the entire country. I decided early on to get to know the Afghans as much as I could. My parents taught me to accept all people and treat everyone with respect. This principle was crucile for me to have a successful mission in Afghanistan.
I worked closely with 6 Afghan doctors and 5 Afghan medics. Over the course of weeks to months, we all got to know one another quite a bit. We would talk about our personal lives. We would talk about the war. We would talk about religion. Almost no subject was taboo. It was refreshing. There was one doctor in particular that I became great friends with, Dr. Yama. He is about my age and has an engaging personality. He is extremely intelligent. He speaks good English which made it easy for us to talk. Yama comes from a family of 9 kids. He lives in Kabul and attended the Kabul Medical University. When I met him in 2008, he was single. Now he is married with one child. Yama is funny, articulate, compassionate, and hard working. He is one of the best people that I know in this world.
On 31 October 2008, I left the Kabul Military Training Center for the last time and began an 8 day journey back to the United States (military travel is measured in days not hours). The previous day I said goodbye to Yama. A group of children surrounded him as he walked away towards Jalalabad Road, a main artery of Kabul. Yama looked at the kids and proclaimed, "This is the future of Afghanistan." I doubted that I would ever see Yama again. We emailed several times that year but quickly lost touch with one another. Then, in the fall of 2010 Yama sent me a message stating that he was in Germany on a scholarship through the Afghan government. He was there studying German. If he learned the language well and passed many examinations, then he would get to work in a German hospital for one year of training. I was astounded. It was quite rare for any Afghan to leave their country. They have few resources and are still a third world nation. Upon hearing of Yama's good fortune to be in Germany, I vowed to visit him. This was my opportunity to see my good friend once again!
Several weeks ago, this wish became true. I travelled to Europe for a vacation along with my good friend Mona. We spent 5 days touring Bavaria (you must go there in your lifetime). Then, we rented a car and headed north to the town of Naumburg. We spent 5 hours speeding along the Autobahn which was a crazy experience. We drove through beautiful green pastures covered with scores of windmills. Eventually, we made it to Naumburg and pulled up to the school that Yama was now calling home. We spotted Yama waiting for us in front of his school. It was awesome to see him again. He invited us in, showed us around the school, and then invited us into his living quarters. True to the wonderful hospitality I had experienced from Afghans on deployment, Yama had a spread of fresh fruit and pastries waiting for us. We spent the night getting caught up and laughing about all sorts of things. And, we decided that the next day we would take an impromptu trip to Berlin.
We set off early on Saturday morning and drove several hours into the the heart of Berlin. Thanks to a GPS device expertly run by Mona (I had never used one before), we made our way to the only remaining section of the Berlin Wall. At one time, this wall spanned 150 kilometers. Now only a few hundred meters of wall is still standing. We took a slew of pictures up against this symbol of the cold war. Next, we went exploring the great city of Berlin. We found a beautiful park in the middle of Berlin. After walking through the park, we toured a monument to Russian troops killed in Berlin in World War II. Quite ironic for 2 Americans and an Afghan to be looking around a Russian monument! We stumbled upon the German Parliament. There was an interesting peaceful protest going on outside the building. It looked like a war protest perhaps. Nope, it was a group of people marching for the rights of dogs! Then, at the Brandenburg Gate (crossed by Napoleon and his forces in 1806) we watched some highly entertaining street performers. The scene was electric in this busy part of Berlin. As we headed back to our car, we made our way to an interesting city block that Mona noticed on the drive into Berlin. It was a collection of cement blocks of different sizes set up in perfect rows taking up a vast area. We did not know what it was at first. Then, we discovered that it was a holocaust memorial. We toured it which was a sobering experience to say the least. It was a fitting end to a memorable day in Berlin. We headed back to Naumburg to drop of Yama.
My life is greatly enriched for knowing Dr. Yama. We met in a war zone. Both of us have worked at large military hospitals and have seen the worst casualties you ever want to imagine. We grew up half a world apart, but somehow I think our upbringings were not that much different. His family is extremely important to him. He speaks highly of his 8 siblings. And, I know the importance of my 5 siblings in my life. Yama has an amazing spirit inside him. We were brought together in some unlikely circumstances. After spending an amazing day with Yama in Germany, it is absolutely clear to me that some bonds are never broken!
In 2008, I found myself in heavily armed in a combat zone on the outskirts of Kabul, Afghanistan. I was sent to the Kabul Military Training Center as a "mentor". My job was to train Afghan doctors and medics. Our mission was to perform physicals on every Afghan National Army recruit in the entire country. I decided early on to get to know the Afghans as much as I could. My parents taught me to accept all people and treat everyone with respect. This principle was crucile for me to have a successful mission in Afghanistan.
I worked closely with 6 Afghan doctors and 5 Afghan medics. Over the course of weeks to months, we all got to know one another quite a bit. We would talk about our personal lives. We would talk about the war. We would talk about religion. Almost no subject was taboo. It was refreshing. There was one doctor in particular that I became great friends with, Dr. Yama. He is about my age and has an engaging personality. He is extremely intelligent. He speaks good English which made it easy for us to talk. Yama comes from a family of 9 kids. He lives in Kabul and attended the Kabul Medical University. When I met him in 2008, he was single. Now he is married with one child. Yama is funny, articulate, compassionate, and hard working. He is one of the best people that I know in this world.
On 31 October 2008, I left the Kabul Military Training Center for the last time and began an 8 day journey back to the United States (military travel is measured in days not hours). The previous day I said goodbye to Yama. A group of children surrounded him as he walked away towards Jalalabad Road, a main artery of Kabul. Yama looked at the kids and proclaimed, "This is the future of Afghanistan." I doubted that I would ever see Yama again. We emailed several times that year but quickly lost touch with one another. Then, in the fall of 2010 Yama sent me a message stating that he was in Germany on a scholarship through the Afghan government. He was there studying German. If he learned the language well and passed many examinations, then he would get to work in a German hospital for one year of training. I was astounded. It was quite rare for any Afghan to leave their country. They have few resources and are still a third world nation. Upon hearing of Yama's good fortune to be in Germany, I vowed to visit him. This was my opportunity to see my good friend once again!
Several weeks ago, this wish became true. I travelled to Europe for a vacation along with my good friend Mona. We spent 5 days touring Bavaria (you must go there in your lifetime). Then, we rented a car and headed north to the town of Naumburg. We spent 5 hours speeding along the Autobahn which was a crazy experience. We drove through beautiful green pastures covered with scores of windmills. Eventually, we made it to Naumburg and pulled up to the school that Yama was now calling home. We spotted Yama waiting for us in front of his school. It was awesome to see him again. He invited us in, showed us around the school, and then invited us into his living quarters. True to the wonderful hospitality I had experienced from Afghans on deployment, Yama had a spread of fresh fruit and pastries waiting for us. We spent the night getting caught up and laughing about all sorts of things. And, we decided that the next day we would take an impromptu trip to Berlin.
We set off early on Saturday morning and drove several hours into the the heart of Berlin. Thanks to a GPS device expertly run by Mona (I had never used one before), we made our way to the only remaining section of the Berlin Wall. At one time, this wall spanned 150 kilometers. Now only a few hundred meters of wall is still standing. We took a slew of pictures up against this symbol of the cold war. Next, we went exploring the great city of Berlin. We found a beautiful park in the middle of Berlin. After walking through the park, we toured a monument to Russian troops killed in Berlin in World War II. Quite ironic for 2 Americans and an Afghan to be looking around a Russian monument! We stumbled upon the German Parliament. There was an interesting peaceful protest going on outside the building. It looked like a war protest perhaps. Nope, it was a group of people marching for the rights of dogs! Then, at the Brandenburg Gate (crossed by Napoleon and his forces in 1806) we watched some highly entertaining street performers. The scene was electric in this busy part of Berlin. As we headed back to our car, we made our way to an interesting city block that Mona noticed on the drive into Berlin. It was a collection of cement blocks of different sizes set up in perfect rows taking up a vast area. We did not know what it was at first. Then, we discovered that it was a holocaust memorial. We toured it which was a sobering experience to say the least. It was a fitting end to a memorable day in Berlin. We headed back to Naumburg to drop of Yama.
My life is greatly enriched for knowing Dr. Yama. We met in a war zone. Both of us have worked at large military hospitals and have seen the worst casualties you ever want to imagine. We grew up half a world apart, but somehow I think our upbringings were not that much different. His family is extremely important to him. He speaks highly of his 8 siblings. And, I know the importance of my 5 siblings in my life. Yama has an amazing spirit inside him. We were brought together in some unlikely circumstances. After spending an amazing day with Yama in Germany, it is absolutely clear to me that some bonds are never broken!
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Lesson #1 - War Affects All
I raised my right hand and took the oath as a military officer in April of 2000. There was absolutely no way to know then where this journey would take me. In 11 years, I have learned a great deal. Some lessons will stay with me forever...
In 2004, I was a brand new doctor and Captain in the U.S. Air Force. After graduating from medical school, I was sent to Offutt Air Force Base(AFB) in Omaha, Nebraska for my first assignment. My mission was to become a board certified family physician. I was in training there for 3 years. The family medicine residency there at Offutt AFB is integrated with the University of Nebraska Medical Center It is an outstanding program. The training was rigorous.
So, there I was as a family medicine intern working on the maternity ward at Offutt AFB in November of 2004. One morning was particularly busy with 3 women in labor similtaneously. I was working with a patient named April. Her labor became complicated. We took her to the operating room for an urgent cesarean section. As we worked to get the baby out quickly, I remember vividly noticing that the father was not present. Instead, the grandmother to be was there providing support to April. There were tears of joy as I helped the obstetrician bring the infant into the world as his first breath was taken. At that moment, we seemed a million miles away from the front lines of Iraq.
Half a world away, "The Battle of Fallujah" was raging. U.S. Marines invaded the insurgent stronghold in Iraq. The bloodiest battle of The Iraq War ensued. It went on for weeks. There were heavy casualties. A young marine named Shane was one of the many killed in Fallujah. He hailed from Omaha.
The maternity ward at the Offutt AFB Hospital was quiet when 3 marines dressed in full service dress arrived in the middle of the night. April and her new baby boy were recovering from the events of the day. Nothing could prepare anyone for the news that the marines were there to deliver. I am sorry to say that the father of the child was killed in Fallujah, Iraq on the same day his son came into this world. The small hospital at Offutt AFB was now the center of a story that seemed too cruel to be true. The entire community was now aware that a young marine who grew up in Omaha had perished on the battlefield. His son would be raised without a father. It is a heart breaking story to say the very least.
I remember everyone commenting on how well April was coping. She must have been in a state of shock. The Omaha community reached out to her. A memorial service was held at a cathedral in town. I dusted off my dress blues and attended along with the obstetrician whom I assisted in delivering Shane Junior. Neither of us had ever met Shane Senior, but that did not seem to matter at all. Words cannot describe the sadness so many felt. It was a moving memorial service. The reality of what happened was now starting to sink in for everyone.
Certainly, many difficult days were endured and are still endured by the family.
My life in Omaha seemed so far away from the war to me before this tragic story enfolded. I was focused on learning medicine. Unfortunately, this tragedy gave me a glimpse of the horrors of war. We live our lives peacefully on most days. But, mankind chooses to wage war. And, in the end war affects all.
In 2004, I was a brand new doctor and Captain in the U.S. Air Force. After graduating from medical school, I was sent to Offutt Air Force Base(AFB) in Omaha, Nebraska for my first assignment. My mission was to become a board certified family physician. I was in training there for 3 years. The family medicine residency there at Offutt AFB is integrated with the University of Nebraska Medical Center It is an outstanding program. The training was rigorous.
So, there I was as a family medicine intern working on the maternity ward at Offutt AFB in November of 2004. One morning was particularly busy with 3 women in labor similtaneously. I was working with a patient named April. Her labor became complicated. We took her to the operating room for an urgent cesarean section. As we worked to get the baby out quickly, I remember vividly noticing that the father was not present. Instead, the grandmother to be was there providing support to April. There were tears of joy as I helped the obstetrician bring the infant into the world as his first breath was taken. At that moment, we seemed a million miles away from the front lines of Iraq.
Half a world away, "The Battle of Fallujah" was raging. U.S. Marines invaded the insurgent stronghold in Iraq. The bloodiest battle of The Iraq War ensued. It went on for weeks. There were heavy casualties. A young marine named Shane was one of the many killed in Fallujah. He hailed from Omaha.
The maternity ward at the Offutt AFB Hospital was quiet when 3 marines dressed in full service dress arrived in the middle of the night. April and her new baby boy were recovering from the events of the day. Nothing could prepare anyone for the news that the marines were there to deliver. I am sorry to say that the father of the child was killed in Fallujah, Iraq on the same day his son came into this world. The small hospital at Offutt AFB was now the center of a story that seemed too cruel to be true. The entire community was now aware that a young marine who grew up in Omaha had perished on the battlefield. His son would be raised without a father. It is a heart breaking story to say the very least.
I remember everyone commenting on how well April was coping. She must have been in a state of shock. The Omaha community reached out to her. A memorial service was held at a cathedral in town. I dusted off my dress blues and attended along with the obstetrician whom I assisted in delivering Shane Junior. Neither of us had ever met Shane Senior, but that did not seem to matter at all. Words cannot describe the sadness so many felt. It was a moving memorial service. The reality of what happened was now starting to sink in for everyone.
Certainly, many difficult days were endured and are still endured by the family.
My life in Omaha seemed so far away from the war to me before this tragic story enfolded. I was focused on learning medicine. Unfortunately, this tragedy gave me a glimpse of the horrors of war. We live our lives peacefully on most days. But, mankind chooses to wage war. And, in the end war affects all.
Saturday, April 23, 2011
Lessons Learned
It has been about a month since I "blogged". That is perfectly fine because almost nobody is reading this blog anyway! "Life After Afghanistan" is not as exciting as "On Call in Afghanistan". It is kind of like the TV show "MASH" and then its sequel "After MASH". The original is so much more compelling. But, my life goes on and I have to make sense of it. Reality is that I "blog" for myself primarily. In Afghanistan, it kept me sane. I was able to think about the intense experiences I was having, write about them, and then put them behind me. That was absolutely necessary because the patients just kept rolling in every single day. Now, back home things are not nearly as intense. But, that does not mean that I do not have things to write about. After all, I want to go on living and be normal!
My military career is coming to a close rapidly. I have less than 8 weeks until my last day in the U.S. Air Force. YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am excited. Yesterday I received the official papers stating that I will be discharged honorably from the military on June 30th. I will see my last military patient on June 9th. I will likely wear the uniform for the last time on June 17th. On July 1st, my new life will begin on my first day as a sports medicine fellow at the University of South Carolina. I will not have much time to transition. Perhaps that is a good thing.
I have been reflecting on my military career quite a bit lately. I just returned from an amazing vacation to Germany. It was one of the highlights of my career. I stayed 4 nights at Edelweiss Lodge and Resort. It is run by the U.S. Army and is for American military personnel only. The resort sits at the base of the highest peak in the German Alps. The scenery is breathtaking there. I had time to think about a lot of things. For 11 years I have been in the U.S. Air Force. It has been eventful to say the least. There have been good times and bad times. There have been some great moments and also plenty of low points. I am proud of my service. I have learned a great deal. As I prepare to leave the military life and enter the civilian world, it seems only right to write about the most significant things I have experienced. The remainder of my blog is going to be a collection of "Lessons Learned". ENJOY!
My military career is coming to a close rapidly. I have less than 8 weeks until my last day in the U.S. Air Force. YES!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!!! I am excited. Yesterday I received the official papers stating that I will be discharged honorably from the military on June 30th. I will see my last military patient on June 9th. I will likely wear the uniform for the last time on June 17th. On July 1st, my new life will begin on my first day as a sports medicine fellow at the University of South Carolina. I will not have much time to transition. Perhaps that is a good thing.
I have been reflecting on my military career quite a bit lately. I just returned from an amazing vacation to Germany. It was one of the highlights of my career. I stayed 4 nights at Edelweiss Lodge and Resort. It is run by the U.S. Army and is for American military personnel only. The resort sits at the base of the highest peak in the German Alps. The scenery is breathtaking there. I had time to think about a lot of things. For 11 years I have been in the U.S. Air Force. It has been eventful to say the least. There have been good times and bad times. There have been some great moments and also plenty of low points. I am proud of my service. I have learned a great deal. As I prepare to leave the military life and enter the civilian world, it seems only right to write about the most significant things I have experienced. The remainder of my blog is going to be a collection of "Lessons Learned". ENJOY!
Tuesday, March 22, 2011
The Military Family
After passing through customs at Baltimore-Washington International Airport, returning military personnel are greeted by a large group of good hearted Americans. These folks are there to cheer and welcome us home. It can be an emotional moment. I received several cards from elementary school kids. I still have them. They are tucked away in a box for safe keeping. But, there is so much more to military life than what the service member endurs. Often, the struggles of the spouses, the kids, the parents, and the communities are even more difficult. We often hear about military families and the sacrifices that they make. But, just what is the experience of a military family?
As a family physician at Charleston Air Force Base, I see many examples of military life from the perspective of the family. One such example is an army wife that I have seen on many occasions in our clinic. (there is an army reserve unit in Charleston that come to our base for healthcare) She comes in not because her back hurts or that her allergies are acting up or that her blood pressure is high. All of those things may be true. But, this army wife comes in because she needs to talk. It is that simple. She needs to cry. She needs to laugh. She needs someone else to know outside her circle of friends that being an army wife is just plain hard. Things are better now that her husband is home from a year long deployment to Afghanistan. But, adjusting back to having a warm body next you to at night also is not exactly easy. The whole military wife experience is difficult. The least I can do is lend an ear.
Sometimes I can see that a family is falling apart slowly but surely. How can a young family be expected to survive when one of them is gone in a combat zone every other year? Many of them do not make it. One day I was told by one of my patients that he did not think his marriage would last another deployment. He is a young guy, his wife is even younger, and they have 2 toddlers. Going away to a dangerous place puts incredible stress on the family unit. The kids are affected probably more than we even understand. I just do not know how some of these families make it. And, this young family probably would not have made it intact much beyond 2011 except for a freak accident. My patient stepped out of a car and twisted his left knee. He was in quite a bit of pain when he came into the clinic. I examined him and then ordered a knee MRI (which I do not do very often). Several weeks later it was done. I have never been so happy to see that someone tore their anterior cruciate ligament! He needed surgery. He would not deploy again in 2011. His family suddenly had a much better chance to become stronger and to stay together.
The U.S. Military has bases all over the world. Essentially we have stayed in every place where war was waged with the exception of Vietnam. Places like Germany and Japan have a number of bases and thousands of Americans there. Entire families spend years living overseas. They live in places like Adana, Turkey or Weeting, England. Their kids go to Department of Defense schools. The women often travel to larger bases at the 34 week mark of their pregnancy to deliver the baby. These families also get to experience many unique things like climbing all over roman ruins in Turkey, swimming in the Mediterranean, visiting castles, taking in the new year in Edinburgh, or seeing live shows in the theatres of London. The kids make friends, and then move away multiple times. The family that I speak of here is that of my brother, Lieutenant Colonel Chris Hayes.
Others of us delay having a family or settling down because that it simply not in the cards for us. It can be better that way. But even those of us who are single in the military have families. When we deploy, many people are thinking of us. There are countless prayers from our parents, our siblings, our friends, and just about anyone who knows us. When the unthinkable happens, entire communities mourn the dead. So, we are all part of one family in the end... The Military Family.
As a family physician at Charleston Air Force Base, I see many examples of military life from the perspective of the family. One such example is an army wife that I have seen on many occasions in our clinic. (there is an army reserve unit in Charleston that come to our base for healthcare) She comes in not because her back hurts or that her allergies are acting up or that her blood pressure is high. All of those things may be true. But, this army wife comes in because she needs to talk. It is that simple. She needs to cry. She needs to laugh. She needs someone else to know outside her circle of friends that being an army wife is just plain hard. Things are better now that her husband is home from a year long deployment to Afghanistan. But, adjusting back to having a warm body next you to at night also is not exactly easy. The whole military wife experience is difficult. The least I can do is lend an ear.
Sometimes I can see that a family is falling apart slowly but surely. How can a young family be expected to survive when one of them is gone in a combat zone every other year? Many of them do not make it. One day I was told by one of my patients that he did not think his marriage would last another deployment. He is a young guy, his wife is even younger, and they have 2 toddlers. Going away to a dangerous place puts incredible stress on the family unit. The kids are affected probably more than we even understand. I just do not know how some of these families make it. And, this young family probably would not have made it intact much beyond 2011 except for a freak accident. My patient stepped out of a car and twisted his left knee. He was in quite a bit of pain when he came into the clinic. I examined him and then ordered a knee MRI (which I do not do very often). Several weeks later it was done. I have never been so happy to see that someone tore their anterior cruciate ligament! He needed surgery. He would not deploy again in 2011. His family suddenly had a much better chance to become stronger and to stay together.
The U.S. Military has bases all over the world. Essentially we have stayed in every place where war was waged with the exception of Vietnam. Places like Germany and Japan have a number of bases and thousands of Americans there. Entire families spend years living overseas. They live in places like Adana, Turkey or Weeting, England. Their kids go to Department of Defense schools. The women often travel to larger bases at the 34 week mark of their pregnancy to deliver the baby. These families also get to experience many unique things like climbing all over roman ruins in Turkey, swimming in the Mediterranean, visiting castles, taking in the new year in Edinburgh, or seeing live shows in the theatres of London. The kids make friends, and then move away multiple times. The family that I speak of here is that of my brother, Lieutenant Colonel Chris Hayes.
Others of us delay having a family or settling down because that it simply not in the cards for us. It can be better that way. But even those of us who are single in the military have families. When we deploy, many people are thinking of us. There are countless prayers from our parents, our siblings, our friends, and just about anyone who knows us. When the unthinkable happens, entire communities mourn the dead. So, we are all part of one family in the end... The Military Family.
Wednesday, March 16, 2011
PTSD Part 2
About 3 months after getting home from Afghanistan, the flashbacks from my deployment were persisting. It all seemed like a broken record. Why could I not just forget about it all? As a physician, it was clear to me that I was suffering from PTSD. I had learned about it in my training and had dealt with a number of military patients with PTSD. But, those of us in healthcare are not always good patients. I was in no hurry to seek counseling. Undoubtedly, it requires some humility to ask for help no matter what the situation. I certainly was not ashamed that 2 deployments had affected me. But, my pride was telling me that I was okay. It kind of goes without saying that we return at least a little different after an intense experience in a combat zone. But, would I allow my war experience to dominate my life? Absolutely not! I turned to Dr. K for help.
We are lucky to have Dr. K at Charleston Air Force Base. He is a civilian psychologist who moved to Charleston after many years as a police psychologist. He has specialized training in PTSD therapy. Dr. K has a reputation for being a bit unorthodox. I was curious to see what his therapy was all about. He started by showing me a video about Eye Movement Desensitization Reprocessing (EMDR). It involved a psychiatrist working with a veteran suffering from PTSD. The patient was taken back to the traumatic event by closing his eyes and visualizing in his mind's eye exactly what happened. Upon opening his eyes, he was asked to follow the hand the of the therapist as it was moved quickly back and forth through his vield of vision for a short period of time. The therapy is designed to "unlock" the memory that is causing the PTSD. Often, there are many "memories" that must be explored, visualized, and reprocessed. It is a powerful therapy that has shown to be quite effective in many veterans. Its efficacy is not fully proven, but a good number of patients have been helped by it.
So, there I was in Dr. K's office discussing my symptoms and my time in Afghanistan. I had recognized about a half dozen incidents that I had been thinking about frequently. We started by discussing something that occured in my first few weeks at Bagram. A load of trauma patients arrived in the middle of night. It was my first week on night call. The third patient through the door was my responsibility. He was a young marine who was injured by a roadside bomb. His left leg was badly broken. He was talking and seemed okay at first. Literally within seconds of moving him from the stretcher to the gurney, he went into hemorragic shock. The next 5 minutes seemed like an eternity. I called for help. He was intubated and put on a ventilator. The largest bore IV we had available was inserted into his subclavian vein, then 2 units of blood were literally pumped into him via a high speed pump. He went to the operating room STAT. I remember standing there in a state of shock after all this. It all happened so fast! I felt powerless. I felt inadequete. I was scared that someone was going to die because I was not a good enough physician. After all, I needed 2 other physicians, 2 nurses, and 3 technicians to help me save this marine, right?
Dr. K had me visualize this incident and quickly I felt like I was transported back to the trauma hot box at Bagram. I could practically feel the sweat beeding up on my forehead. It seemed like I could reach out and touch the patient. His leg was bleeding out. The extensive dressing was soaked through with blood. His eyes were open and he told me he was from Idaho. Then, he was unconscious. Controlled chaos ensued. I ran the code. Yes, that's correct. I was in charge. That is what really happened. His heart was racing and his blood pressure was dropping. I knew what he needed. We got him everything he needed right away. We could not wait even a moment. He needed life saving interventions NOW! The patient got them. He lived. The next day he was alive. In fact, he was awake and alert. He called his parents from Bagram to tell them he was okay... I opened my eyes and Dr. K moved his right hand back and forth. I concentrated deeply for the next minute only on his hand. I took a deep breath. My first experience with EMDR was now finished. I felt better. That night I slept better than I had in 100 days.
My therapy with Dr. K lasted just 4 sessions. EMDR was used to "unlock" some of my deepest and darkest memories. I could make sense of it all to a certain degree now. I realized that as a family physician I was simply one member of the medical team at Bagram. Every single one of us was needed there to provide the best health care possible for our very sick patients. We all did the best we could. There was little that could be said about some of the things we saw. A limbless soldier barely alive is just plain sad. Taking care of the enemy all shot up by our own troops is just insane. Working 5 months in a row without a day off is beyond exhausting. But, none of this was going to dominate my life any longer. It is all in past. Mankind will continue to kill one another. War is hell. But, I am okay. Yes, I am okay.
We are lucky to have Dr. K at Charleston Air Force Base. He is a civilian psychologist who moved to Charleston after many years as a police psychologist. He has specialized training in PTSD therapy. Dr. K has a reputation for being a bit unorthodox. I was curious to see what his therapy was all about. He started by showing me a video about Eye Movement Desensitization Reprocessing (EMDR). It involved a psychiatrist working with a veteran suffering from PTSD. The patient was taken back to the traumatic event by closing his eyes and visualizing in his mind's eye exactly what happened. Upon opening his eyes, he was asked to follow the hand the of the therapist as it was moved quickly back and forth through his vield of vision for a short period of time. The therapy is designed to "unlock" the memory that is causing the PTSD. Often, there are many "memories" that must be explored, visualized, and reprocessed. It is a powerful therapy that has shown to be quite effective in many veterans. Its efficacy is not fully proven, but a good number of patients have been helped by it.
So, there I was in Dr. K's office discussing my symptoms and my time in Afghanistan. I had recognized about a half dozen incidents that I had been thinking about frequently. We started by discussing something that occured in my first few weeks at Bagram. A load of trauma patients arrived in the middle of night. It was my first week on night call. The third patient through the door was my responsibility. He was a young marine who was injured by a roadside bomb. His left leg was badly broken. He was talking and seemed okay at first. Literally within seconds of moving him from the stretcher to the gurney, he went into hemorragic shock. The next 5 minutes seemed like an eternity. I called for help. He was intubated and put on a ventilator. The largest bore IV we had available was inserted into his subclavian vein, then 2 units of blood were literally pumped into him via a high speed pump. He went to the operating room STAT. I remember standing there in a state of shock after all this. It all happened so fast! I felt powerless. I felt inadequete. I was scared that someone was going to die because I was not a good enough physician. After all, I needed 2 other physicians, 2 nurses, and 3 technicians to help me save this marine, right?
Dr. K had me visualize this incident and quickly I felt like I was transported back to the trauma hot box at Bagram. I could practically feel the sweat beeding up on my forehead. It seemed like I could reach out and touch the patient. His leg was bleeding out. The extensive dressing was soaked through with blood. His eyes were open and he told me he was from Idaho. Then, he was unconscious. Controlled chaos ensued. I ran the code. Yes, that's correct. I was in charge. That is what really happened. His heart was racing and his blood pressure was dropping. I knew what he needed. We got him everything he needed right away. We could not wait even a moment. He needed life saving interventions NOW! The patient got them. He lived. The next day he was alive. In fact, he was awake and alert. He called his parents from Bagram to tell them he was okay... I opened my eyes and Dr. K moved his right hand back and forth. I concentrated deeply for the next minute only on his hand. I took a deep breath. My first experience with EMDR was now finished. I felt better. That night I slept better than I had in 100 days.
My therapy with Dr. K lasted just 4 sessions. EMDR was used to "unlock" some of my deepest and darkest memories. I could make sense of it all to a certain degree now. I realized that as a family physician I was simply one member of the medical team at Bagram. Every single one of us was needed there to provide the best health care possible for our very sick patients. We all did the best we could. There was little that could be said about some of the things we saw. A limbless soldier barely alive is just plain sad. Taking care of the enemy all shot up by our own troops is just insane. Working 5 months in a row without a day off is beyond exhausting. But, none of this was going to dominate my life any longer. It is all in past. Mankind will continue to kill one another. War is hell. But, I am okay. Yes, I am okay.
Friday, March 11, 2011
Gonna be a Gamecock
Today I was asked the question, "Do you want to go back to Afghanistan?" Are you kidding me? Absolutely not!!! The person who asked me just could not understand why I did not want to go back. Apparently, she had a "good" deployment to Iraq. She acted as if I was a little crazy to be taken aback by her question. It was kind of an uncomfortable exchange. But, it got me thinking about things... mainly life after deployment.
With this in mind, I am starting a new blog entitled "Life After Afghanistan". My blog while I was deployed to Bagram, Afghanistan in 2010 became quite popular. I was astounded by how many people read it. The feedback was overwhelmingly positive. People seemed enlightened to a certain degree about what it is like for a doctor in Afghanistan treating the wounded. Some people actually wanted more. One person told me that she was disappointed when I stopped writing. She felt like I left her hanging. Other people wanted me to get the blog published as a book. I thought about that long and hard. But, my heart never seemed to be into that idea. It would take a lot of time and effort to publish a book. It just did not seem right for me. Instead I decided today to just start writing again. Why? Because life goes on after the war. It has to go on and we have to move forward. This blog will not be as dramatic as "On Call in Afghanistan". But, it might be just as important for me. It might help me to make more sense of my experiences.
It seems like I have been decompressing ever since I landed back in the states on July 2nd, 2010. I had completed 2 difficult deployments of 6 months duration in a little over 2 years. It is a lot to process. Each day seems like I am just a little further away from the insanity of war. The images are still very real, but they are fading. As time goes on, I think about what happened over there just a little less with each day. This is normal. Other people that have been to Afghanistan tell me they have similar experiences. Some people never really face the demons that haunt them from war. I am not going to be like that. NO WAY! Life is too good to allow garbage from the past bring us down. I try each day to live in the moment. The present seems a little more important now that I have seen death and destruction up close and personal.
In the summer and fall of 2010, I began working on my life after the military. I decided on my way home from Afghanistan that I was going to apply for a fellowship in sports medicine. I have always been a sports fanatic. The opportunity to work with athletes and be involved with athletic teams really, really gets me excited. Fellowships in primary care sports medicine (the non surgical care of athletes) last one year. I interviewed at 5 places in the fall. During that time, I also decided 100% that my military career would be over when my committment expires on June 30th, 2011. I "dropped my papers" and was approved for what is called separating from the military. It seems a bit surreal, but in the not too distant future I will no longer be wearing a uniform. That actually sounds amazing!
What is even better is that in January I found out that I will be doing a fellowship at the University of South Carolina starting July 1st. GO GAMECOCKS! I am pumped! I will be part of the medical staff at a major university. I will be down on the field in front of 85,000 fans on football saturdays. I will be working with the 2010 national champs in baseball. The athletic department at the Univeristy of South Carolina is quite impressive... 500 student athletes, 19 teams, 24 athletic trainers, 26 million dollar budget just for football, etc. The facilities are excellent. Even better, the people are friendly and genuine. I immediately felt comfortable and at home there. It is going to be quite a year for me in Columbia, South Carolina.
What is even more important about all this is knowing that I am NOT going back to Afghanistan. Yeah, it is a struggle to make sense of the world and to achieve "normalcy" after some really intense experiences. But, I will get there. After all, I am GONNA BE A GAMECOCK! (at least for one year)
With this in mind, I am starting a new blog entitled "Life After Afghanistan". My blog while I was deployed to Bagram, Afghanistan in 2010 became quite popular. I was astounded by how many people read it. The feedback was overwhelmingly positive. People seemed enlightened to a certain degree about what it is like for a doctor in Afghanistan treating the wounded. Some people actually wanted more. One person told me that she was disappointed when I stopped writing. She felt like I left her hanging. Other people wanted me to get the blog published as a book. I thought about that long and hard. But, my heart never seemed to be into that idea. It would take a lot of time and effort to publish a book. It just did not seem right for me. Instead I decided today to just start writing again. Why? Because life goes on after the war. It has to go on and we have to move forward. This blog will not be as dramatic as "On Call in Afghanistan". But, it might be just as important for me. It might help me to make more sense of my experiences.
It seems like I have been decompressing ever since I landed back in the states on July 2nd, 2010. I had completed 2 difficult deployments of 6 months duration in a little over 2 years. It is a lot to process. Each day seems like I am just a little further away from the insanity of war. The images are still very real, but they are fading. As time goes on, I think about what happened over there just a little less with each day. This is normal. Other people that have been to Afghanistan tell me they have similar experiences. Some people never really face the demons that haunt them from war. I am not going to be like that. NO WAY! Life is too good to allow garbage from the past bring us down. I try each day to live in the moment. The present seems a little more important now that I have seen death and destruction up close and personal.
In the summer and fall of 2010, I began working on my life after the military. I decided on my way home from Afghanistan that I was going to apply for a fellowship in sports medicine. I have always been a sports fanatic. The opportunity to work with athletes and be involved with athletic teams really, really gets me excited. Fellowships in primary care sports medicine (the non surgical care of athletes) last one year. I interviewed at 5 places in the fall. During that time, I also decided 100% that my military career would be over when my committment expires on June 30th, 2011. I "dropped my papers" and was approved for what is called separating from the military. It seems a bit surreal, but in the not too distant future I will no longer be wearing a uniform. That actually sounds amazing!
What is even better is that in January I found out that I will be doing a fellowship at the University of South Carolina starting July 1st. GO GAMECOCKS! I am pumped! I will be part of the medical staff at a major university. I will be down on the field in front of 85,000 fans on football saturdays. I will be working with the 2010 national champs in baseball. The athletic department at the Univeristy of South Carolina is quite impressive... 500 student athletes, 19 teams, 24 athletic trainers, 26 million dollar budget just for football, etc. The facilities are excellent. Even better, the people are friendly and genuine. I immediately felt comfortable and at home there. It is going to be quite a year for me in Columbia, South Carolina.
What is even more important about all this is knowing that I am NOT going back to Afghanistan. Yeah, it is a struggle to make sense of the world and to achieve "normalcy" after some really intense experiences. But, I will get there. After all, I am GONNA BE A GAMECOCK! (at least for one year)
Monday, January 31, 2011
PTSD
From February 2010...
I have been conflicted a bit about my blog ever since I returned home. Part of me thought that it should end right after I got home. After all, I was home and everything was okay, right? Not the case. Life after Afghanistan has challenges as well. I have written a few entries in the past few months. I seem to be gaining some inspiration to write again. Today I was reminded vividly of a very important condition - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
In the Charleston Air Force Base Clinic today, I saw a patient who was at Bagram Air Field on 19 May 2010. It was the night we were attacked by the Taliban. It was a complex attack at 3 in the morning that sent the base into chaos. I remember it vividly and probably will for the rest of my life. My patient from today is a member of security forces, a military cop essentially. He was in the middle of the firefight that night! 8 months later he has issues consistent with PTSD. This is not surprising in the least. But, he can and will get better. I assured him of that. How can I be confident of this? Well, it is because I also have PTSD.
PTSD has one major requirement. The person must have been involved in something outside of the normal human experience. Examples are a disfiguring accident, a motor vehicle crash, and rape. These are not normal events, and they should not be wished upon anyone. Of course, war is definitely outside the normal human experience! It is messed up to say the least. That is why it leads to a large amount of PTSD cases. There are 2 condtions which have become the signature medical problems of Iraq and Afghanistan - Traumatic Brain Injury from explosions and also PTSD from the insanity of war. Without a doubt, PTSD has been present in all wars from the beginning of time. It was previously called "shell shocked" or "combat stress". To have the "thousand yard stare" was definitely taboo. Heck, General Patton did not believe in it which is why he slapped a hospitalized soldier right in the face! He lost a star for that. Good riddance. The bottom line is that in the 21st century we have a much better understanding of PTSD, thus we can recognize and treat it.
PTSD is characterized by a number of symptoms. Flashbacks to the traumatic event are common. These flashbacks become intrusive. The person has difficulty functioning in normal society. Poor sleep, anger, poor concentration, irritability, substance abuse, depressed mood, and low energy are all symptoms of PTSD. Many other physical things can happen as well such as back pain, muscle aches, and gastrointestinal distress. In general, these people are a mess! One of my PTSD patients here in Charleston was at home taking care of his young kids. His wife was gone. He began thinking about his war experience as he did constantly. He then got in the car and drove down the street. At a traffic light, he realized that he was supposed to be at home taking care of his young kids. He turned around and went home. The kids were okay. Nothing bad happened. Nevertheless, these incidents are scary for everyone involved. He essentially was in a completely different world for about 10 minutes.
In my first three months back from Afghanistan in 2010, I noticed a lot of the symptoms listed above in myself. My sleep was quite poor. It just seemed like I could not sleep through the night. The silence here was deafening to me after sleeping through explosions all the time in Afghanistan. I kept thinking about certain incidents over and over trying to make sense of them which I never could. One day I left the gym after a workout and began thinking about one of my patients in Afghanistan. I opened the hatch to my Saturn VUE. I got in the car and drove 3 miles down a busy road at 50 mph with the hatch wide open. I pulled over and closed the hatch. No big deal, right? Nope! I could no longer deny that I did in fact have PTSD. I needed help before things worsened.
To be continued...
I have been conflicted a bit about my blog ever since I returned home. Part of me thought that it should end right after I got home. After all, I was home and everything was okay, right? Not the case. Life after Afghanistan has challenges as well. I have written a few entries in the past few months. I seem to be gaining some inspiration to write again. Today I was reminded vividly of a very important condition - Post Traumatic Stress Disorder (PTSD).
In the Charleston Air Force Base Clinic today, I saw a patient who was at Bagram Air Field on 19 May 2010. It was the night we were attacked by the Taliban. It was a complex attack at 3 in the morning that sent the base into chaos. I remember it vividly and probably will for the rest of my life. My patient from today is a member of security forces, a military cop essentially. He was in the middle of the firefight that night! 8 months later he has issues consistent with PTSD. This is not surprising in the least. But, he can and will get better. I assured him of that. How can I be confident of this? Well, it is because I also have PTSD.
PTSD has one major requirement. The person must have been involved in something outside of the normal human experience. Examples are a disfiguring accident, a motor vehicle crash, and rape. These are not normal events, and they should not be wished upon anyone. Of course, war is definitely outside the normal human experience! It is messed up to say the least. That is why it leads to a large amount of PTSD cases. There are 2 condtions which have become the signature medical problems of Iraq and Afghanistan - Traumatic Brain Injury from explosions and also PTSD from the insanity of war. Without a doubt, PTSD has been present in all wars from the beginning of time. It was previously called "shell shocked" or "combat stress". To have the "thousand yard stare" was definitely taboo. Heck, General Patton did not believe in it which is why he slapped a hospitalized soldier right in the face! He lost a star for that. Good riddance. The bottom line is that in the 21st century we have a much better understanding of PTSD, thus we can recognize and treat it.
PTSD is characterized by a number of symptoms. Flashbacks to the traumatic event are common. These flashbacks become intrusive. The person has difficulty functioning in normal society. Poor sleep, anger, poor concentration, irritability, substance abuse, depressed mood, and low energy are all symptoms of PTSD. Many other physical things can happen as well such as back pain, muscle aches, and gastrointestinal distress. In general, these people are a mess! One of my PTSD patients here in Charleston was at home taking care of his young kids. His wife was gone. He began thinking about his war experience as he did constantly. He then got in the car and drove down the street. At a traffic light, he realized that he was supposed to be at home taking care of his young kids. He turned around and went home. The kids were okay. Nothing bad happened. Nevertheless, these incidents are scary for everyone involved. He essentially was in a completely different world for about 10 minutes.
In my first three months back from Afghanistan in 2010, I noticed a lot of the symptoms listed above in myself. My sleep was quite poor. It just seemed like I could not sleep through the night. The silence here was deafening to me after sleeping through explosions all the time in Afghanistan. I kept thinking about certain incidents over and over trying to make sense of them which I never could. One day I left the gym after a workout and began thinking about one of my patients in Afghanistan. I opened the hatch to my Saturn VUE. I got in the car and drove 3 miles down a busy road at 50 mph with the hatch wide open. I pulled over and closed the hatch. No big deal, right? Nope! I could no longer deny that I did in fact have PTSD. I needed help before things worsened.
To be continued...
Sunday, January 9, 2011
A Long Haul
From January 2011...
Today I realized that is has been exactly 3 years since my life as I knew it changed drastically. It was an ordinary Monday morning the second week of January 2008 when I received the news that I would be deploying to Afghanistan. The details were sketchy at that point. I was surprised because it had appeared that I would not deploy during that rotation cycle. I came to find out later that I was needed to replace a doctor who broke his leg during pre-deployment training. Regardless, it was an anxious time. I did not know what to expect and there were not many people to give me any definitive information. I remember being relieved to certain extent knowing that I would be going to Afghanistan and not Iraq. It seemed that Afghanistan was a "just war" given that Al Queda lived and trained there. We were going after the people that attacked us on 9/11 which seemed like a noble cause to me. I was naive at that point, but to this day I still believe that some good is being done in Afghanistan.
2008 was a long year for me. The first part was spent mentally preparing to go into a war zone. I was going to a dangerous place with a real possibility of a bad outcome like coming home in a body bag. I filled out my will and gave copies to my family. It was sobering. I thought about how I would like to be remembered. Crazy. Who thinks about these things at the age of 32? I then went to "Combat Skills Training" for 2 months at an Army base. I was no longer a doctor. Instead I was a member of the U.S. military making me a target at all times in Afghanistan. While deployed, I went on my fair share of trips off base in armored vehicles heavily armed. It was surreal. My mission there was to train Afghan doctors and medics which I did to the best of my ability. There was danger every day. I never was shot at and my life was never in imminent danger. I was lucky. On October 31st of 2008, I left Camp Alamo for a long convoy to Bagram Air Field. I remember arriving at Bagram and feeling like the weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders. Bagram is a heavily fortified base. I felt safe again. Safety is a good thing.
I returned to the United States a different person because I had seen a third world, war torn nation up close. The hypervigilance that you have in a dangerous place wore off in a few weeks. I was able to breathe a sigh of relief for a while. It was nice to see people and relate my experiences. I was proud of my service. Then, thoughts of another deployment came into focus. Notification came that I would be on the list to deploy in just 6 months. How could this be? For several weeks over the holidays I contemplated another deployment. But, this notification was a mistake, an apparent "clerical error". I was angry that such a mistake could be made, but it did not matter because I had been bitten by the deployment bug. Now I actually wanted to go back! Deep down I felt that going to Afghanistan one time was not enough. So many others had done more. I could do more. Specifically, I wanted to take care of the wounded. A call was made to higher headquarters. I volunteered to be sent to the hospital at Bagram during the next cycle. The Air Force was happy to grant me my wish.
So, it was July 2009 and I was facing another deployment. When a deployment is on the horizon, no matter how far away it is, your life basically goes on hold. Everything you do is in the context of this impending trip overseas. There was more training to attend this go round. But, it was purely medical training this time which was both exciting and nerve wracking. Little did I know that nothing could really prepare me for the experience at Bagram. I arrived on Christmas Eve 2009. On Christmas Day I had a knot in my stomach all day because I knew that this was going to be the hardest work of my career. The next 6 months were exhausting. The blog tells the story.
When I arrived home in early July, it was apparent to many that I had "been through the ringer". The second deployment was actually harder than the first. In fact, I hope it is the most difficult thing I ever have to do in my professional career. I have been adjusting back to life at home ever since. It seems like a never ending process. I think about my deployments every single day. The images seem to be fading, but the lessons learned are deeply engrained in my mind. As I reflect on all that has happened in the past 3 years, it is a bit overwhelming. It tugs at my emotions. One thing is undeniable. It has been a long haul.
Today I realized that is has been exactly 3 years since my life as I knew it changed drastically. It was an ordinary Monday morning the second week of January 2008 when I received the news that I would be deploying to Afghanistan. The details were sketchy at that point. I was surprised because it had appeared that I would not deploy during that rotation cycle. I came to find out later that I was needed to replace a doctor who broke his leg during pre-deployment training. Regardless, it was an anxious time. I did not know what to expect and there were not many people to give me any definitive information. I remember being relieved to certain extent knowing that I would be going to Afghanistan and not Iraq. It seemed that Afghanistan was a "just war" given that Al Queda lived and trained there. We were going after the people that attacked us on 9/11 which seemed like a noble cause to me. I was naive at that point, but to this day I still believe that some good is being done in Afghanistan.
2008 was a long year for me. The first part was spent mentally preparing to go into a war zone. I was going to a dangerous place with a real possibility of a bad outcome like coming home in a body bag. I filled out my will and gave copies to my family. It was sobering. I thought about how I would like to be remembered. Crazy. Who thinks about these things at the age of 32? I then went to "Combat Skills Training" for 2 months at an Army base. I was no longer a doctor. Instead I was a member of the U.S. military making me a target at all times in Afghanistan. While deployed, I went on my fair share of trips off base in armored vehicles heavily armed. It was surreal. My mission there was to train Afghan doctors and medics which I did to the best of my ability. There was danger every day. I never was shot at and my life was never in imminent danger. I was lucky. On October 31st of 2008, I left Camp Alamo for a long convoy to Bagram Air Field. I remember arriving at Bagram and feeling like the weight of the world was lifted off my shoulders. Bagram is a heavily fortified base. I felt safe again. Safety is a good thing.
I returned to the United States a different person because I had seen a third world, war torn nation up close. The hypervigilance that you have in a dangerous place wore off in a few weeks. I was able to breathe a sigh of relief for a while. It was nice to see people and relate my experiences. I was proud of my service. Then, thoughts of another deployment came into focus. Notification came that I would be on the list to deploy in just 6 months. How could this be? For several weeks over the holidays I contemplated another deployment. But, this notification was a mistake, an apparent "clerical error". I was angry that such a mistake could be made, but it did not matter because I had been bitten by the deployment bug. Now I actually wanted to go back! Deep down I felt that going to Afghanistan one time was not enough. So many others had done more. I could do more. Specifically, I wanted to take care of the wounded. A call was made to higher headquarters. I volunteered to be sent to the hospital at Bagram during the next cycle. The Air Force was happy to grant me my wish.
So, it was July 2009 and I was facing another deployment. When a deployment is on the horizon, no matter how far away it is, your life basically goes on hold. Everything you do is in the context of this impending trip overseas. There was more training to attend this go round. But, it was purely medical training this time which was both exciting and nerve wracking. Little did I know that nothing could really prepare me for the experience at Bagram. I arrived on Christmas Eve 2009. On Christmas Day I had a knot in my stomach all day because I knew that this was going to be the hardest work of my career. The next 6 months were exhausting. The blog tells the story.
When I arrived home in early July, it was apparent to many that I had "been through the ringer". The second deployment was actually harder than the first. In fact, I hope it is the most difficult thing I ever have to do in my professional career. I have been adjusting back to life at home ever since. It seems like a never ending process. I think about my deployments every single day. The images seem to be fading, but the lessons learned are deeply engrained in my mind. As I reflect on all that has happened in the past 3 years, it is a bit overwhelming. It tugs at my emotions. One thing is undeniable. It has been a long haul.
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