In like a lion out like a lion, no lambs here. The 1st entry on the blog for February was trauma and the last is trauma. We were sitting out by a makeshift fire pit listening to the crackling of a modest sized bon fire under a full moonlit night, while smoking some cigars. My thoughts drifted up to the heavens as I watched the sparks float into the blackness of a starry sky. I remembered many nights doing the same thing but over a certain prairie of northeastern Colorado.
We talked and laughed around the fire unhindered by the normal drone of aircraft coming and going. But this evening the ebb and flow of the traffic was low and thus we were even able to bring out some portable speakers and listen to some music. The breadth of the topics casually covered was staggering and before I knew it, several hours had passed and the majority of the world around us had gone to sleep. Our laughter cut the silence of our sleepy little area of the world and we all felt a warm glow akin to the fire that had now died down to embers.
As our eyelids started to feel heavy and the folding chairs began to get folded in for the night; as the hiss of water filled the air when coals were doused with water, a particularly cruel sound punctuated the now dark night. Small arms fire. Hmmm. This was followed by the other familiar sound, athis time emanating from my hip…beep, beep, beep, beep. Sure enough, “Trauma to EMT…ETA NOW” read the glowing display from the pager on my hip. I guess I am not going to bed now, I’ll just have to store that warm glowing feeling away for now and switch gears. And with that I headed for the back door of the EMT.
As dawn broke, I exited that same back door of the EMT. Having helped repair a femoral artery and vein, thankful that his buddies knew how to use a tourniquet, thankful that my CHU has blackout shades, thankful that I have great colleagues here, thankful that this isn’t every night, thankful that the PX has plenty of socks so I can throw these blood stained ones away. But most of all I’m thankful that this soldier won’t lose his leg, whether he knew that was a possibility or not. I hope he realizes his medic saved his life with that darn tourniquet.
As I drifted off to sleep, I could see those sparks floating into the sky from the night before…who knew February would hold such diversity.
Wow.... well done, well said, Eric! You are always in our thoughts and prayers. As Ronald Reagan once said "Some people go their whole lives wondering if they made a difference, (you) don't have that problem."
ReplyDeleteYou keep mentioning ways that God "whispers" to you, the way the image of the sparks linger as you drift off to sleep. Your blog is proof that God is our comfort, the One who is closer than a brother. I cry as I read some of these blogs, tears with wonder, concern, and joy. What moves me more than anything is that even though those who love you most on this earth aren't there, that One who is closer to you than I am is whispering to you in dreams, by the fire, and through the wet smile of a dog. He is so wonderfully good, and I worship Him with you, precious brother.
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