Working in an ER

Well, I got to work in an ER for a few days, mostly observing really. The official Army tag line for why we were there was to "psychologically harden us to trauma". Really, the hospital we were working at didn't have any where near enough trauma to be hard on our minds. Watching a recent movie has far more blood. None of the trauma really turned my stomach. One kid with an open fracture from a car wreck was the worst, but even that wasn't bad.
One thing was pretty bad though. The drug overdoses. There were quite a few of those. Most of them were Heroin ODs which weren't bad. The junkies were just hit with NARCAN, an opiate receptor blocker. But there was one kid, 16 years old, who had taken a cocktail of drugs. He had been on antidepressants and ADHD medication and had proceeded to take a variety of illegal drugs on top of his meds. He came in comatose and stayed that way. The nurses worked on him for a while, rehydrated him, made sure he could breathe among other things. When they wheeled him to pediatrics because of his age, the nurses told me that he was going to be brain damaged. The jerking of his body was his brain spasming from lack of oxygen. That was way worse to see and hear then anything else. This kid, at 16, was going to live the rest of his life with that one mistake. Man, I hope I never have to live like that. I think the realization that it was one short period without thinking would be far worse than the actual damage.
--Andy

So Long, You will Not be Missed

I finally concluded about 2 months of being in the field. Most of it was pretty lazy. For over a week I was doing medical coverage for ROTC, which, by the way, seemed to consist mostly of whiny children (the cadets) or talking with the cadre (awesome ex-Special Forces sergeants). We returned to Ft. Lewis for 3 days, just long enough to ready our Stryker to go back out and bam, we were at Yakima for a month. Yakima is a place of sand and misery in about equal amounts. It has a lot of sand, FYI. 100 degree weather while in body armor, missing the 3 weeks of yearly beach weather Washington state gets.
We finished that interminable month up and came back for some well deserved showers and the glorious ability to order pizza. Except for poor little Andy. He "got" to go to Mountain Medicine.
On the plane ride out to the location of the course, my head was filled with visions of myself dressed like Rambo, mashing up some plants to create a dressing for bullet wounds, constructing a bow to hunt for dinner, and sewing up gashes using a fishing hook and a thread from my shirt. Yeah, that really wasn't what the class was about.
The first three days were spent in a class room learning about things like HAPE (high altitude pulmonary edema) and HAFE (high altitude flatulence expulsion) and trying to catch our breaths after climbing a flight of stairs. In case you didn't pick it, the class took place at about 8000 feet. Well above the height that oxygen lives and dwells.
Of course our instructors knew that the best way to acclimatize is strenuous exercise. So we went for a hike. 4 miles laterally and 4000 feet up. With 90 pound rucks. Yep, the Army knows how to have fun. This was of course foreshadowing of good times to come. The next few days we spent learning how to set up a rappel, how to do steep earth evacuation of a casualty, and how to make a one rope bridge across a river so that only one person had to get wet. Oh yeah, that person was me. All of this culminated in a Casevac race Army vs. Navy in which the Army, led by my team, completely dominated. It was beautiful when they staggerd in an hour after us. Sweet victory.
We got the weekend off for fun and games, and then Monday the craziness began. For the next few days we did nothing but walk around the mountains going up and down hills all day from one casualty to the other, always wearing our rucks. Total distance according to instructors with GPS was 45 miles. Not fun at all. The last night was survival night. We got one rucksack for every 11 people and were told that the instructors would be back in the morning, don't start a fire. That was cold and miserable. The only thing that kept most of us from leaving was the fact that we would be done the next morning. The sun has never been so desperately awaited. Thus concluded two weeks of not fun.
--Andy
And I am reading Catch-22 for the first time. What a funny book. Even though the narrative is spoofing military life, Heller is disturbingly accurate quite often.

It's been one year since you looked at me, Cocked your head to the side and said "I'm Angry"

Well, for better or for worse, it has been one year since my joining of the U.S. Army. In about 4 months it will be 2 years since I dropped out of college. At least I wasn't pregnant. That would be every parents nightmare. More to follow.
--Andy

Float like a Butterfly, Sting like a Bee

I actually have no idea where the title came from. Well, obviously, Mohamed Ali, but why it became the title will be forever a mystery.
Anyway, time for an update. Over the past...long time I have gone on leave to Colorado Springs and had a wonderful time in the mountains, hiking and playing cards and trying to find some oxygen to breathe. Yes yes, quite the wonderful time. Met old friends I had not seen in four years. Saw my parents whom I have not seen in a year. We were all playing tag at night and someone fell out of a tree and broke his wrist and got a concussion. As the only person who knew anything about medicine, I got to be "hero" and help them get down the mountain and call an ambulance. Mostly the trick was to calm the mother down.
I got back from leave a little late on Sunday the 27th. I was supposed to be back on Saturday, but since I had called in and let the right people know I would be late, it was all good. A little later Sunday I got called and told I was going to the field for a week. Which is what I got back from yesterday. It was a week of long days helping ROTC kids with blisters. Even though most of them were quite older then me, they acted like small children, disorganized and whining. We spent most of our time pointing and laughing when they ran around panicking because artillery simulators were being set off. Taking their lunch money and other things of the sort. Ahh, I am so easily amused.
On Wednesday I go off for a straight month in the field. That is going to be sheer joy. If this was a spoken word blog, the sarcasm in that last sentences would have been thick enough to cut and spread on a slice of bread. Immediately after getting back from that (on or around August 28th) I go off to a Mountain Medicine course that I am very excited about as well as being terrified about. It will be myself and a friend working with Navy SEALs and US Special Forces guys. It is quite a privilege to get to do this, but most of my prayers recently are for my survival.
One thing I have been considering recently (other then my line of thought on how pure and evil are so different than purely evil and if unicorns were the explanation) is getting a tattoo. I've always wanted one, and if there is one place that a tattoo would not be out of place, it is in the army. I found a great website that has literary tattoos. Although it seems as though everyone has decided to get a Slaughter House Five tattoo, I think I might get one on my arm that says "Man found alive with two legs." Or one of a baby rabbit. Or a small potato on my ankle (points if you know what the potato tattoo is from).
--Andy

Unreasonable Faith

"Time passed, the possibility was there, Abraham believed; time passed, it became unreasonable, Abraham believed."
This is the reason Kierkegaard found it so odd when people claimed to have moved on past faith. Embedded into the word faith is eternity minus a day. To move past faith is to be forever. As Christians we live in expectation of what is to come, holding in the faith in our Lord. We move past faith only when the promises have come to pass.
Abraham held onto faith past reason, believing that he would have a heir to fulfill the promise God gave him. And it was given to him. Yet God gave him another test, sacrificing that gift and the fulfillment of his faith. And with Isaac would die the promise yet again, falling from possible to unreasonable. Yet Abraham persisted in his faith all the way to tying Isaac to the alter, all the while convinced that his promise would not die. Even though God himself seemed against him. And in his powerlessness and folly he contended with God and prevailed.

"Abraham was greater than all, great by reason of his power whose strength is impotence, great by reason of his wisdom whose secret is foolishness, great by reason of his hope whose form is madness, great by reason of the love which is hatred of oneself."

--Andy

FAST1

What I did today. Well, it started off innocently enough. Just some minor paperwork, no sick call. Did Physical Training for the first time in forever. Etc. It was after lunch that it all started. I came back to the Aid Station and got told that one of my co-workers 11 year old child was going to stick an IV in me. If I could figure out how to do smiley faces in the posts, there would be a smiley face with its eyes bugged out in surprise. Well, we got that over with quickly. He messed it up, but it didn't hurt at all. Then they told me I would be getting a FAST1. That is what you get if the medic can't get a vein in your arm. It is a large needle that punctures your sternum and you get fluids and meds into your bone. Yeah. Sounds like fun huh? Well, it hurt. A lot. A FAST1 has a circle of 10 big needles and in the middle of those needles is one big needle that hooks up to the IV. All of the 10 guide needles have to be up against your sternum and have 35 pounds of pressure on them for the middle needle to get shot out into the bone. You hear a nice crunch as it goes in. Much pain. For your viewing pleasure, here is a video of one (unfortunately not one of myself getting it done as the camera apparently malfunctioned.) And that was my day. Saweet.
--Andy

Equilibrium

I think one of the most enjoyable pieces of this movie is the contrast between the sense offenders and those still taking their dose of Prozium. The movie paints such a bleak life for the sense offenders. They live outside of the city for the most part, in abandoned buildings that are crumbling and decaying. Compare them to the loyal citizens of the Tetragrammatron. They live in clean apartments with huge TVs and so many of the things that people work towards. And yet it seems clear that the only real choice is to sacrifice comfort and stability for the ability to feel, even if it is pain. Unlike Brave New World (on which Equilibrium is heavily based), there is no conflicting ending. No suicide of the "good guy". It presents a clear cut choice and a clear cut ending. But that is part of the appeal. The movie is not posing a question about the value of emotion, but showing that the material goods we work for and strive for can be empty and lacking, and what we think is good for us might not be. Truly a masterpiece of a movie.
And as a guy, I feel obligated to point out that Equilibrium has action sequences that make the Matrix look like child's play.
--Andy

Swigging 'Tussin

They let us self medicate here at AIT. This is truly awesome. As 68W's, Army Medics, we run healthcare. You only see a doctor if you are really sick. So we keep close tabs on the medication we give to other people, but we are just straight up stupid with our own stuff. Measured doses are for weenies. I have been sick for about two weeks, running 104 fever for a few days. Lately it has just been a cough that won't go away. It is a cough that makes other people ask me if I'm okay, and then clear the way so I can run and puke. And I assure them that I am fine. And at nights, I take swigs of other people's Robitussin. That and some guy's anti-inflammatory pills are my sustenance at night for the past week and a half. Cause my tonsil's are swelling up so bad I can't breathe. Only at night for some reason. I can't wait 'til I have full access to my units stash of meds. Although I hear Morphine is pretty well regulated. *wink wink.
--Andy

Fatherhood

Lately I've been reading Dooce. I really don't know why I'm reading it, seeing as it is a blog written by a mother about raising a child. It is freaking hilarious, and as much as I can be sure about any complete stranger, I think I would get along with the lady who writes it. Because I have been reading it, I have thought about parenthood (God forbid it happen to me anytime soon.) I really don't think anyone really knows what it is about when they get into it, no matter how many books you read. It seems like the ultimate play as you go scenario (which makes me happy, because that is how I run my life.) After all, small children are basically little animals, slightly less furry puppies. Try to plan it as much as you want, but after they poop in the middle of the living room for the 8th time, all of those promises to not eat your young just go flying out the window. I'm pretty infant mortality rate was what it was because parents could get away with it back then, not because everything was dirty and unsanitary. Mmm, small child stew. Well, enough of my eligibility to be a father.
While I was on Exodus, I bought a knife. Yes, let me pause.... a pointy sharp object. In my hands. So I was trying to cut open a package with a minicard. One of those impossible plastic containers. And I cut the tip of my thumb off. So now, not only is the tip of my thumb coolly lopsided, but I can't feel anything, making picking up small objects neigh impossible. I know, I know. I should never have sharp objects.
At lastly, we started the fun part of our training. On Friday, we did injections. With needles. It was AWESOME. I was with a guy named Kettler. His went smoothly. Mine went great except for the very first part. I went to stick him in the upper arm, and his muscle spaszed out. And that freaked me out. Not good. But I calmly extracted the needle and did it with the next needle. And the rest of it went smoothly. Now on to IVs and further opportunities to thrust sharp objects into people's flesh. Hurrah.
--Andy

Yin Yang

In the Army, you pick up a lot of injuries with no known origin. Personally, if I put any pressure on the lateral aspect of my left foot, my leg crumples. Last time I jumped out of bed and landed slightly wrong, my knee buckled from the pain and I hit my head on the ground. Kranda, a battle buddy, has a huge lump on his wrist. It looks like his bone dislocated and is sticking out.
These injuries start to separate the people you are with. You learn alot about a person by seeing how they handle these inconveniences. Kranda still passed his PT test with his wrist, including his pushups. I ran my fastest time so far on my two mile. Houlahan actually fractured his ankle about 6 months ago. Instead of going on profile, he told the sergeant that he got a RTD (return to duty) and kept going. It hasn't healed yet, he has to wear a wrap on it constantly. He didn't report it because he wouldn't have been allowed to finish training while on profile, so he decided to just get surgery once his training is done because of how aggravated his ankle has become.
On the other hand you have people like Lyons who never does PT with us because she is constantly on profile with her crutches. She never does anything. As soon as her profile runs out, bam, back to the med station to get a new one. People like Jean who escapes from doing any work what so ever. Tomorrow is a CI (command inspection) with a LTC and CSM from Battalion HQ. Jean came in 10 minutes past bed check when everyone had been in the bay cleaning their butts off.
The Army doesn't allow you to do things half way. You know where people stand. Either they will be like Kranda or they will be like Lyons. You don't talk about people behind their backs. You say it to their faces. If you think someone is a douche bag, you tell them. Feelings are not at all spared. Its nice really. I don't like Jean. He is a Blue Falcon (Bravo Foxtrot/Buddy F****er) to the highest degree. And he knows I don't like him. Like I said, quite freeing. There really is no grey. And after listening to our sergeants rant about war enough, you start measuring everyone by "Do I want them watching my back in Iraq/Afganistan?" Everything goes to the lowest common denominator. The Army makes everything so simple. I can understand why so many people start out with a 4 year contract and end up staying in permanently. The civilian world is kind of messy and scary compared to the Army. You know who is your superior in the Army, and people tell you when you messed up. Things can be taken at face value.
--Andy
Well, everything is simpler, but harder. Like the 3 hours of sleep I get tonight thanks to a 2.5 hour fireguard shift, followed by a ruckmarch followed by a test followed by our inspection. YAY.