Reflecting On February

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.

Battle Rhythm

The roar of helicopters and planes go by unnoticed, and the ¾ mile walk to the DFAC seems right next door. Morning meeting and workout schedules are set. The new normal has come. And yet every day there seems to be one, two, or a few things that make one realize that this is not normal. Back home, when I left the house, I just left the house. Now when I leave, I need to keep in mind, “How fast could I get back if I needed to,” or “will they be able to find me if a mass cal came in?”
This morning was punctuated by two separate explosions shaking the CHU’s. Each time an explosion is heard, it seems one has to make a decision, “Will I let the enemy defeat my spirit, or will I live victoriously?” Victory itself takes on a whole new meaning here. Last Sunday I went to a new church service. One of the scriptures that was read dealt with God knowing our coming and our going. Here when you go outside “the wire”, your life is at stake. So as we all recited that God knows our coming and going, we were affirming that God would be in control of our very lives while we lay everything on the line. The Bible is very much a survival guide here.
I am still of the conviction that I, like David as he faced Goliath, am a servant of the most high God who upholds my right hand and triumphs over my enemies. Whom shall I fear!

Tosca

The other night I did a neck dissection on a working dog that had been shot through her neck. She did well and by that night was playing with her squeaky chew toy, and wagging her tail.
The familiar feel of petting a dog, brought a little piece of home to Iraq. On top of that, my heart was grateful to God that this Gunnery Sgt was going to be OK.
I love dogs and I love operating. I am thankful that God allowed me to combine the two. And I didn't even have to go to vet school:)
I guess this is another example of a treasure God had in store for me from the beginning.