Quit Kicking Me!

"Will you PLEASE stop kicking me!!" I harped at the soldier standing next to me. "I'm going to report you for nurse abuse if you don't!" I sharply chided him. He simply stood there and with a look of "who me?" on his face responded, "they'd never believe you, they'd take one look at me and cart YOU off". "Yeah, you're right" I said, “but, really now, QUIT KICKING ME!” then giving up, shared a laugh with this particular man. A bilateral leg amputee, he was kicking me with his prosthetic legs and having quite a jolly time. In frustration I kicked him back, which only served to make him laugh harder and tell me "that didn't hurt a bit".

The sad part is that he does hurt. He and other veterans like him suffer daily with phantom pain, suffer daily with nerve pain and pain that takes over their lives. It becomes all consuming and never-ending, life as they knew it ceases to exist. They suffer from pain you cannot take enough medications to make go away. Marriages suffer, families are torn apart, and the mental anguish is inexplicable.

I recently sat in a meeting and listened to an OEF veteran talk about dealing with his pain. For 3 years after many, many surgeries, an amputation and ongoing physical therapy his pain persists. He often wonders if the pain will ever go away and he admits to fleeting thoughts of suicide. And he is not alone! I sit here right now and at least dozen of my former patients come to mind.

Although it is almost impossible, try and place yourself in his position. Can you even begin to imagine how living with pain every minute of every hour of every day would affect you? What kind of life you would have?

People always make comments "I wish there were something I could do". If you are truly serious in wanting to help I have this suggestion. Currently there is legislation proposed to give our OIF/OEF veterans better resources, benefits and assistance when it comes to pain and it's impact on their lives. You can learn about them by going to the American Pain Foundation's website www.painfoundation.org and clicking on Military/Veterans and Pain. I urge you to go to this site and review everything on these pages. Here you will find plenty of ways to assist our wounded warriors. Only when we understand better and take the initiative to make our voices heard will change come about. They need your help and here is your way! We challenge you, don't let us down!

The Faces

Asked to see and evaluate an OEF patient in the trauma ICU, I wandered into the bay only to stop short at the sight before me. The wounded patient lay motionless with wires and tubes, dressings and splints all entangling each other. Ventilator high-pressure alarms shrieked off-cadence with the beeps of the heart monitor. Intubated on a vent, multiple IV lines and specialty dressings all around, this patient lay in drug-induced slumber.

Keeping a bedside vigil was his wife, not an uncommon site on any of the nursing units temporarily housing our wounded warriors. What caught me off guard and stopped me stock-still were the small bodies occupying the chairs that flanked her. Two beautiful young children sat beside her, alternating between coloring pictures with dry erase markers given to them by the nurses and staring silently at their father.

As I introduced myself to Sarah, I also introduced myself to the children. Victoria, who is seven, and Jacob, who is five, shook my hand gravely as I held it out to them. I learned Victoria had been eating blue candy, as evidenced by her blue tongue, lips and teeth. I learned Jacob loved the Transformers and wanted his dad to teach him how to ride an ATV, “when he gets better." I learned Sarah had arrived on Saturday, the day after her husband had been flown in, and alone at the hospital had no one to watch the children. She told me, with tears in her eyes, that they came with her every day and sat in the ICU room, coloring pictures, playing games, and watching their dad.

As we talked I looked at the children. I could see the fear and uncertainty crowding their small faces. I asked if I could bring in a DVD player so they could watch movies. Eyes filling once again with tears, Sarah thanked me, telling me over and over how much she appreciated the help. I asked her to forget it, as it was such an easy thing for me to do. It’s not hard to take a portable DVD player off the closet shelf where it is gathering dust and loan it to two children so they could forget where they are if only for a couple of hours.

That was four days ago, and this patient has been extubated. Yesterday I watched joy instead of sorrow fill this family’s faces. I watched a wife and mother hold her children up to the bed so a little boy and girl could say, “Hi Daddy!” I smiled in delight at the looks of pure happiness as their father opened his eyes and smiled at them. I choked back tears as Sarah laid her head on his chest and sobbed, “Welcome home, Baby.”

Today as I walked down the hall I heard a tiny voice call out, “Ms. Clara!” Turning, I saw Jacob and Victoria dragging their mom toward me. “Ms. Clara!” they eagerly exclaimed. “We watched the Transformers in the hotel room last night!" And so they rumbled on, anxious to tell me about their day. While listening I felt a little hand encircle mine and tug. “Ms. Clara, want to come see our daddy with us?” Victoria asked. “I’d love to come see your daddy with you." And off we went, off to exchange smiles and laughter with a soldier on the long road to recovery.

Writers Block

I've been trying to write something, anything, for the past week and a half but too many things clamor about in my head. Too many thoughts needing to be shifted and put in their proper places. Too many mental photographs appear everytime I try and write. Maybe if I list them they will release their hold on me. My fingers type frantically trying to get it all down only to later highlight the entire text and hit the delete button. The words are right there but yet I can't get them out. They don't flow in the way I want them to, they pop into my head with high def pictures and the emotions attached to those pics quickly follows.

I see things I don't want to see and feel things I don't want to feel. And yet, I continue to love my job and the people I work with and for. How do I keep from drowning under the ocean of responsibility leveled on me? Where's the happy meduim? What do I do to keep my sanity when even my most powerful means of venting, my writing, seems lost?

Resolutions

Don't we all make New Year's resolutions? I certainly do. I decided 2008 was
going to be the year I took care of Clara instead of Clara taking care of everyone else. I decided I wasn't going to give so much of myself, decided I would hold back something for me. I decided I needed to close my heart off just a little, so it wouldn't hurt so often.

It's funny how things happen, how patients and their families work themselves into my life. How they begin to share my ups and downs and celebrate my victories as much as I do theirs. Sometimes their totally off handed comments completely catch me by surprise and put a smile on my face.

Wandering down the hallway I came across one of my former patients. A man who lost both legs to an IED walked toward me with the aid of 2 prosthetics and a cane. As I drew near I could see he was in pain so looping my arm through his I asked if he needed any help. His response "nah, I'm ok but I don't mind the eye candy hanging off my arm". Completely at a loss for words I simply threw my head back and laughed. How fun to share in their moments.

Yesterday I stopped into the physical therapy gym to talk with one of the therapists. As I stood there talking with him about a race we're running I was slowly surrounded by my former patients. Some of them wanting to say hello, get a hug or hang out and
chat. At one point another of the other therapists yelled out "Hey Clara, you're likethe Pied Piper over there" and as I looked around I realized they were right. My patients had wrapped themselves around me and lightened my heart. They had stolen into that little place I decided to keep strictly for Clara.

Ah well. . . .who keeps New Year's resolutions anyway?

Feeling Like Scrouge

Been an interesting week at work. A week filled with chaos and angst and frustration and sadness. Chaos because even in the midst of the Christmas holidays the wounded arrive, 3 times a week. Angst and frustration at some of my coworker and their lackadaisical attitudes. Sadness because the holidays are a time to be with family and many of us do not have that option.

Most years I LOVE Christmas. I love driving around neighborhoods to see which neighbors outdid each other with decorating. I love looking at the seasonal displays and singing carols at church. Going to see a performance of Handel's Messiah is my all time favorite Christmas event. This year though, I didn't even do that. I didn't really feel the connection to Christmas this year. It wasn't as if I was horribly depressed by it, I simply didn't feel the joy and happiness I usually do this time of year. People say Christmas has become too commercialized. They say it's more about the "true reason" for the season and what's in your heart. I'll agree with the first part being a believer but the second. . . . .well. . . .what if your heart's just empty?

A Visit

Over the past couple of days the Commander in Chief has paid us a visit. Life gets very interesting when this happens. A hospital's daily routine is quickly interrupted and schedules are thrown into chaos. I think the one thing that disturbed me the most about this visit was the circulating rumor allegedly coming from a high placed hospital official. Supposedly while visiting the traumatic brain injured (TBI) patients, a couple of these guys did not recognize our CIC. So just to make sure this did not repeat itself hospital personnel were told to "make sure every patient knows who HE is".

Again I want to state this is all alleged but I think it's kind of ridiculous to to expect these TBI patients, many of whom don't even recognize their family members or know what day it is to remember who he is. Some of these folks are barely aware of their surroundings and probably would never expect this particular someone to show up in their hospital rooms. Someone clearly did not do a very good job at briefing someone else on traumatic brain injury patients!

I know this isn't the usual Clara story but I needed to vent! Please forgive me as I don't mean to offend.

A Holiday Story

Thanks again to Keith for bailing me out. I had somehow locked myself out of this blog, I am sooo technologically challenged, I willingly admit that being the main reason I can never have a blog of my own! ;-) On another note I had quite the experience at work this past week and since I tend to write about things to help me process them here's the story:

Titled "Finding Santa" I hope you enjoy it!

“Ms Clara?” came from the tiny voice at my side.
“Yes, Jonathan Matthew?” I responded.
“Do you think Santa will find me and Thomas here?” was the earnest question.
“Most definitely Santa will find you!” I assured my small friend. That particular comment was met with silence as the 5-year-old boy at my side contemplated the answer. The son of one of my wounded patients he had climbed up to sit beside me as I sat in an alcove completing a chart

“Are you sure Ms Clara?” pled Jonathan Matthew. “I mean, I’m not asking for me, you know? I’m asking for Thomas because he’d be really upset if Santa didn’t find him. He’s littler than me and this is his first Christmas”. Thomas was Jonathan Matthew’s 2-month-old brother. “Do you suppose you could talk to him for me?” he asked. “Talk to who?” was my perplexed response. “Santa, Clara! Santa!!” Jonathan Matthew disgustedly exclaimed. I felt a lump start to form in my throat as I looked down into the earnest face of a small boy. Unsure of how to respond I was momentarily lost for words. Not getting an immediate response caused Jonathan Matthew to tell me “My mom says you’re an angel on earth so I figured since I know angels talk to God you’d be talking to God too. And if you’re talking to God you gotta be able to talk to Santa”.

Oh Wow! Holy Hooeee. What do you say??? Now I was truly at a complete and total loss for words and the lump in my throat had just grown to boulder size. Eyes burning with tears, I cleared my throat and as I was ready to speak I saw Jonathan Matthew’s grandmother turn the corner. The expression on her face told me she had heard the conversation we were having. “Hi, Grammie!” said this small boy “Clara and me were talking about Santa and I was asking her to talk with him about making sure he found Thomas on Christmas”, all his words ran together. “Cuz mom says she’s an angel here on earth so if there’s anyone who can talk to Santa I know it’s her. And since I know she already talks to God to help Daddy get better it should be easy for her to talk to Santa” he continued.

“Jonathan Matthew” Grammie started to say. I quickly held up my hand to stop her flow of words and said, “I’ll tell you what Jonathan Matthew”. My voice broke and I had to clear my throat before continuing, “I’ll make absolutely sure Santa finds you and Thomas”. “Cuz you’re an angel here on earth and you can do things like that, right?” was his question. “Well, I’m not too sure about the angel here on earth, Jonathan Matthew, but let’s just say I know the right people” was my assurance.

“Ok, Ms Clara, if you say so I know it will happen”. He leaned over, wrapped his small arms around my neck and squeezing said, “I don’t care what you say, you’re my daddy’s angel and I love you”. With that proclamation he abandoned his seat next to mine, grabbed his Grammie’s hand saying “Let’s go tell Thomas Ms Clara is gonna make sure Santa finds him”. Tears in her eyes she gazed at me, a silent “thank you” formed on her lips as she turned and followed Jonathan Matthew down the hall. Trust me when I say I will do everything in my power to make sure two little boys receive a visit from Santa even if I have to go rent the red suit and beard myself!

On that note, I wish you all a wonderful holiday season filled with many blessings! Best wishes for a healthy, happy new year!
Clara

Pearl Harbor Day Thoughts and Thanks

Here are a quick couple of thoughts, not particularly well connected, but they are timely....

This morning the flags were at half staff because today is Pearl Harbor Day, the day the America of the 1940's was called to defend itself and ended up defending most of Europe as well. Possibly the last popular war we have had. Thank you to the Soldiers, Sailors, Airmen, Marines and those that served even when not in uniform.

I was up in Vernonia the other day checking on some soldiers who are helping out in that flood devastated community, and I am happy to say that the Oregon Guard still helps out in floods, fires, and hurricanes. The civil authorities seem to have things well in hand, and our help, while needed was not the main effort. Which is the way things ought to be anyway.

I stopped in at a local restaurant today and had a salad and ice tea, and before I could pay someone, I don't know who, paid my tab for me and told the waitress to say thank you for my service. I want to say on behalf of the soldiers that I serve with, Thank you for being aware of what is going on, and thank you for the good will.

Many of the people I served with in Shindand will be coming home for good (we hope) this next couple of months, and I am sure happy that they have been safe as well.

I hope you all have a great Christmas and a happy New Year.....

"Thank you FDNY" Written by Clara Hart

On a day darkened by issues, on going problems and irresponsible behaviors there was one tiny light in my pitch-black tunnel. Friday was, without a doubt, one of the worst days I have had in a very long time. Running around like a crazed person I barely had enough time to hit the bathroom and grab a quick on the run meal; a coke and a snickers bar.

Troubleshooting the needs of my patients, attend the committee meetings I had been sucked into, and helping a mother run the emotional gamut with her wounded son, I was quickly becoming depleted myself. As I hurried down the hall into one of the patient wings I came across one of the chaplains. He was surrounded by tall, fit men in navy blue shirts proclaiming “FDNY supports our wounded warriors” and a cart filled with t-shirts, hats and other mementos to hand out to the wounded. I must have had an “I’m having a really BAD day” look on my face because he stopped me and asked if I was ok.

“It’s been an awful day! My issues have issues and today it just goes on and on.” I wearily proclaimed to him. He hugged me and then with his arm around my shoulder turned to the men and said “You will never meet a harder working nurse in all your life. She helps me keep track of these patients and gives me a heads up when they need something.” Shocked I stood there, too tired to even say thank you.

One of the firefighters approached and without hesitation pulled me into his arms for a brief hug saying “thank you for what you do”. A wizened gentleman, his face lined with experience, he appeared as someone who had spent his life moving through the ranks of the fire department. Stepping back I looked at him and said “I lost friends on Sept 11^th, I responded to the scene and I can honestly say I feel your pain and your loss and I am truly sorry”. His expression changed fleetingly from surprise to sorrow and then to understanding and he embraced me again gruffly saying “Thanks”.

As I readied to head off to next problem the chaplain attempted to round up the men. They would have nothing of him herding them down the hall and instead stepped in front of me and one by one solemnly passed by, offering their hands to shake mine and say “thank you for what you do”, “keep up the good work” “thanks”, “thank YOU”. Stock still I stood as 10 or more men filed past me and shook my hand. My eyes began to sting with dreaded tears and I choked out “you guys are gonna make me cry”. “Fine” one of them responded, “nothing wrong with that”.

As the last one slid past I hurried down the hall to address another issue. Many minutes later, on my way to help another nurse, I ran back into the firefighters. One of them had seen my approach and, breaking off from the others, came over to meet me as I drew even with him. As he held out a t-shirt he said, “If there’s anyone who deserves this it’s you”. Accepting the shirt from him, trying to mumble out “thanks” in my tear-laden voice I felt a hat being placed on my head, “here, you need one of these too” I heard from a second firefighter. While I was removing the cap to get a closer look at it a third man silently walked toward me. The same wizened firefighter who had earlier hugged me handed me a FDNY lapel pin saying, “Take this too, what you do means a lot to us”. Cradling my treasured gifts I could only nod and wish them a safe journey home as I retreated down the corridor.

Later that evening as I vented to a friend I told him the story of the firefighters. As my voice trailed off I asked him “Does anyone care that our work day gets longer as we try to help everyone who needs us? Do you know how many people actually say thank you to us? The caregivers? Us? The nurses, the chaplains, the physical and occupational therapists, the clerical staff, the dietitians, the physicians, and all the rest who look after these injured warriors day in and day out??”

“Almost no one” was my response to my own question. My friend was silent for several minutes before he said, “Clara, I’m ashamed to say, but you’re right. I never even thought about all the people who care for these wounded folks.” “Yeah” he continued, “I’m always asking what the soldiers and sailors need or what I can do for the marines and the airmen but not you or your colleagues.”

Gazing at him silently I replied, “Not many do”.

Thank you FDNY for remembering, you helped brighten my day.

Outraged

I have seen many things occur at work but none so completely sending me into such a total outrage as the ones I have witnessed in the past few months. People are stealing from our wounded troops! Yesterday it was a laptop taken while a soldier was in the bathroom, this particular soldier had lost a leg while serving his country in Iraq. Someone knocked on his door then brazenly walked in and walked out, computer in tow. This soldier, although unable, wanted immediate discharge from the hospital and I can not say I blame him one bit.

Most people do not realize it but laptop computers and internet access are vital to our wounded troops. The world wide web is a means for these wounded warriors to keep in contact with their fellow brothers in arms still in the battle. It is a way for them to communicate with the outside world while trapped in the hospital bed.

I have heard of food, coins, DVD players, radios, and even Purple Hearts being stolen. Someone swiped a portable DVD player being used as a temporary means of escape by 2 young children. Two children who sat with their mother at their gravely injured father's bedside.

I simply CAN NOT believe the audacity of our citizens. To steal from those who have given and lost so much! What is wrong with people? Someone please explain to me the mindset of those who would do such things because I surely do not understand! It makes me sick!!!

Clara's Corner

Many of you know me, many of you don't. My story is easy, I'm a civilian nurse working at a military hospital. Many of the things I write about are related to my job and the patients I care for. Almost all of them reflect my interactions with war wounded troops and their families.

I have posted some of my experiences on Doonesbury's milblog called The Sandbox. Through them, much to my shock, even had a couple of my stories published in a book titled "The Sandbox; Dispatches From Troops in Iraq and Afghanistan". Course I've not been to either place but I take care of those who have so that seemed to qualify me! ;-)

I thought I would "re introduce" myself to those of you. Below is my first post to The Sandbox and it explains a little bit about what I do and why I do it. I hope you enjoy!
Clara

I thought of my own experiences as a civilian nurse caring for the war wounded. Idealistic as it may sound, I somehow wanted to help, to do my own "duty" for this country. To me, helping was not only caring for the wounded's physical injuries, it was caring for the emotional ones too.

I will always remember the evening I held a 19-year-old man in my arms while he cried because he had lost both of his legs. I will not forget the twenty-something man who rolled out of surgery so badly injured I was amazed he was still alive, and yet this man still cracked smiles at my off-beat sense of humor and my attempts to take his mind off his pain. I'll remember the woman who I helped calm after a book fell off a counter and the loud bang instantly transported her back to the day of her injury and who, from then on, always looked for me when she came out of the OR because she said she felt safe when I was around. I'll never forget my soldier who lost both legs and an arm, who I later watched get married, downhill ski, and, driving his big truck, head off to college. I'll remember the night I chuckled after one soldier, under the influence of pain medication, asked me to marry him and have his children, and the following day, when he was so worried and apologetic for "being out of line". For as long as I live I will remember the day I ran the Army 10-miler with nine amputees, five of whom I had taken care of.

There were so many times I held their hands, wiped their brows, their tears, and reached down into beds and stretchers to give them the hugs they so badly needed. I sat and listened to their stories of fear and horror because they needed to talk. And because I could do nothing more than listen, I would go home and cry for the ones who could not cry for themselves.

Mixed with the physical and emotional pain I have seen tremendous perseverance, courage, and determination. You have amazed me, you have made me smile, you have made me laugh and you have made me cry. I will always remember my time spent with you. To the many wounded I have cared for, I wish I knew where you ended up, how you are and how life is treating you. I hope and pray all the best for you!

Thanks to Keith

Many people have written and asked if I had a blog, they all mention they are eager to read more of my stories. Being as technologically challenged as I am and unable to comprehend why folks even wanted to read more of my writings I said no. More and more often, in these past few months I've found myself using my prose as self therapy and a way to vent. Still being IT illiterate I asked my friend Keith if I could perhaps have a corner of his blog. Thankfully he agreed and here I am, I hope you not only enjoy reading my posts but also learn a little about the world I live and work in.

Welcome to "Clara's Corner".

It has been a long time since I wrote....

A brief update on my stuff, I have started a business doing Loss Control and Risk Management for various clients, an insurance company, a broker, and some independent business owners. That seems to be going well, we will see as time goes by, it certainly comes with stresses of its own.

I am adding a person who will write on the blog here, her name is Clara, she is a nurse who writes for the Sandbox occasionally as well. Her opinions are hers, I possibly share them, but I will not edit them.

I will produce more on this blog when I figure out what I want to talk about, which may take some time.

I hope this finds you well.

Keith

Update from Portland 24 July 2007

I arrived home at about 2345 (That is 11:45 PM) on 17 June, Fathers Day. I was greeted by most of my family in the state, and Mike Francis of the Oregonian was there to greet me as well. We all were tired from being keyed up and not having a place to relax all day, so the day is somewhat of a blur, but I do remember my wife coming out to greet me, still in here warm up suit as that did not cause her discomfort from her operation. I got home with most of the people at the armory, and had the Full Sail Ale that Mike provided to me when I stepped off the bus (Thanks Mike…).

There was a group that lined the road, all off their Harleys with American Flags standing at attention as we drove by, there must have been at least one hundred of them if not more. I was touched by their patriotism.

For the first couple of weeks I reconnected with some people I had not seen, family and neighbors and friends. That was a slow process, people want to give you your space, and they want to see you as well. Let me just say, I have the best neighbors I have ever had, and I cannot really imagine my neighborhood with nicer people. I could wax on about this, but it sounds a little too good when you write it down. One of our neighbors put it this way to me, I get six months credit for being gone, but after that no excuses, this of course is the same lady who told me that “Yeah you went to Afghanistan for a year and risked your life, but your wife gave her kidney up, and she is the real hero”. I have to say that Michele (ONE L) is right; my wife is some kind of wonderful. My wife and I enjoyed time off together, she was recovering from her donation, and I was spending time with her. That really is all that was important those first weeks.

I thought initially that I would end up working with the Oregon National Guard in a full time basis, but that did not work out, and I have been exploring various opportunities for about 3 weeks now. Change in life is good, and I believe that good things will come out of my new focus and direction. For those that do not know; I have about 10 years now active time in the Military and another 12 years as a Guardsman or Reservist. I don’t believe that I will be making the Military a larger part of my life again, and in fact I hope to reduce its impact upon my family to negligible in the next couple of years. That said some of the most rewarding moments in my life have been as a member of our Military.

Of interesting note is that many American born citizens I have talked with still do not differentiate between Afghanistan and Iraq. My short answer about Afghanistan is that we need to station an army division there, and plan to stabilize the region for the next 60 years. Look at Korea as a template for that. The Afghan people that I have met have been very hospitable, and very Muslim. I would never say that Muslims mean harm to Americans or any other population. I would say that they have a radical, criminal element in the area that practices a fanatical type of the Muslim religion; they have guns and are not afraid to use them. American citizens who are from the Middle East are of varying positions on the conflicts, but remember that they have families there, and they are here in the United States, so they value freedom, and they value their families safety as well. Some of the most emotional and grateful people I have met for service are people who originate from the Persian area.

A short list of events that have transpired since my return:

• My wife has returned to work, she is very well and her recipient is doing very well.
• One of my fellow soldiers from Shindand was killed in action, a very sad event, he will always be remembered.
• A friend of mine that I have had forever has essentially chosen to terminate our friendship.
• I met Mike Francis, who treated me to a dinner and beer, and listened to me ramble for a couple of hours. That was a pleasure.
• I have gotten a couple hours in fishing with my Dad and Father in Law, always a good way to spend time.
• My son talked me into helping him finance a new (Used) Car; I am keeping his old one, as it was in great condition to begin with.
• I am about 2/3rds of the way towards starting my own business or getting a good job in my industry, which makes me happy.

In short, overall, life is great, I am home, my family is safe, and the future looks bright.

Not Quite a month home updates

Well it has been a month almost since I stepped off the plane.
I was met by my family, most of them anyway, and I met Mike from the paper briefly.
My wife was in the process of recovering from donating a Kidney, and in my book that trumps being gone for a year. She is doing well, and things are going great for the recipient as well.
I spent about a week just spending time with my wife, and then got some bad news.

One of my teammates from Shindand had been KIA. He was a great guy, and it is truly a sad thing for all that knew him especially his family.

There are a list of honey do's that need to be taken care of here, but I am working on them. My daughter moved out into an apartment, even though I assured her I do conduct personal hygiene on a regular basis.

Today it is supposed to hit 100 or so degree's and my plans are to subdue the wild bass, then off to other things.

As of today, I don't know what unit I will be working with for the next while, there is a list of things that I don't know really, which I guess if not par for the course is what reality brings.

KM

Ft Carson Colorado Overall very good clearing experience

There has been lots of negative press about clearing at Fort Carson. We had a soldier earlier in the clearing process drink too much alcohol, and he assaulted a police officer in Colorado Springs. As a result, the powers that be decided no soldiers could drink. A little overkill, our chain of command addressed that issue and we were able to enjoy our two beers without fear of legal reprisal, Thank you.

Just a note on that; The guy who assaulted the police officer, should be charged with the appropriate crime, do the time, get out, be charged with the appropriate UCMJ charge, and be dealt with according to the rule of law.

We arrived at Fort Carson and turned in our sensitive items. Guns, Night Vision, those things that let us do our job in the combat zone. Then we were off to barracks. Yes the barracks are 6 miles away from main post. But there is a shuttle bus that runs every 30 minutes back to post, so it isn't a hardship. Colorado Springs is beautiful this time of year. I have lived here in the past, and if I were not going to live in Oregon, it would be one of my first choices. We had 2 very very full days of out processing. The hardest part was the lines that we sat in to wait. It just takes time to process a couple hundred soldiers each day. The staff in charge of getting us through did what I think was a pretty damn good job. They have been going daily for 3 weeks, and they managed to be pleasant and professional, quite the good combination.

Sleeping in barracks with 40 guys is quite an experience although not a quiet experience. It is a veritable symphony of rumblings, gurglings and sudden explosions in the night. Some of those guys need showers on an hourly basis. However..... The Barracks are brand new. The beds are brand new; the lockers are in great condition. The showers and American style toilets are also brand new. All of that is fantastic.

I had the opportunity to be taken to dinner by my cousin Heather and her husband Pat. We went down town to find a little spring’s festival going on, it was warm, the ladies were tan, and I kept thinking that it is truly good to be an American in America, over and over.... Flank Steak, Blue cheese and a little calamari... Thanks Pat and Heather wow.

Today, fully packed, ready for home, waiting, again with the patience.

A quick note though, I really appreciate the folks who have supported me through out this, I think a lot of the time it is harder to be concerned about a soldier who you worry might be in harms way, than it is to be the soldier. Thank you for keeping me and my fellow soldiers in your thoughts and prayers, I know it made a difference to me.

Keith

Kabul, Afghanistan, June 2007

I hadn't started to write about this adventure yet when I arrived at Kabul last year. So I will do a little description.

Kabul is one step closer to home for me and a number of my fellow soldiers.
Kabul is dirty. The air is foul with burning trash, burning fuel, and whatever else might be tossed into the fire. I recently saw a picture that was painted about one hundred years ago (I saw a print) and it was of the Kabul bazaar. It doesn't look that different now, although there were no hubcaps on walls in the picture I saw.
Kabul smells; In order for that to register, let me tell you I can not smell much of anything good or bad. A lady with perfume or a truck with garbage gets equally ignored by me if I can't see them.... So when I say Kabul smells, it must really be getting with it.

Camp Phoenix is a mostly concrete paved compound that is leased by the Government. Because it is leased, the improvements are sparse. So the buildings are all temporary housing, most made of plywood. Plywood is hard to clean, creates its own dirt, and is a fire hazard. The two other alternatives are Connex housing; Think about the boxes on the back of 18 wheelers; or group tents, where I am currently residing with about 80 or 100 other fine soldiers. Based on the way people overlap in country, we are living about as well as can be expected, unless of course you are in the Air Force or Navy, in which case we are truly suffering. I don't know why, but the Air Force has figured out how to take care of airmen far better then the Army ever will, it is almost a reverse snobbish attitude on the Army's part. I wish it would suck some more....

Anyway. Weather is 75-100, not bad. Rained the other day, that was nice.

The South Carolina Guard is here, they seem like good folks, of course, I / We stay mostly out of there way.

When I got here I had my Cholesterol checked, it was 162, one year later it is 188. That is still doing okay, but not as okay as before I arrived. Based upon plane availability and other logistic considerations we will be here around 4 days by the time we leave. Apparently those same logistic considerations will negatively impact our arrival date in the states as well, which is to be expected.

The hardest part of this again is the infiltration, and the exfiltration, or the coming and going. The doing is the relatively easy part.

Hmmm Okay, I think that is the extent of my information for the day.

Take care

Keith

Herat Thoughts May 31 07

Transition into and out of the theater of operations is probably the most stressful for a me, and for many of the soldiers that I have talked with. While you are transferring in and out you are cargo, personnel who require actions, problems for other people who really are looking forward to your departure. Patience is the operative word of the day. Of course, I sometimes have that, and sometimes I don't.

Our Naval Lieutenant Commander (O4) / equivalent to a Major in Army life decided based on no good thought process that I can yet determine that my little group of 4 guys should live in a tent that was available. Never mind there were many many hardstand buildings with space for people, she had made up her mind and couldn't be bothered to care. One of her best statements was that we are army people and we can deal with it. Let me just say that the S1 is supposed to handle administrative details for the command, and her function is to support the command, service the soldiers and generally provide customer service. She of course being a female Naval officer will never see downrange, never wonder if there is an IED up on the road ahead, and really will never care that she won't have that experience. Patience...... must have Patience.

If you want another good laugh you should read this article here. I was in Shindand during this little exercise, and while I can understand that by Air Force standards it might be lacking, I can assure you we put these guys in a building, fed them hot meals, and provided as many beds as we had for them. No there wasn't cable TV in the room, no there was no room service and no the pool was not filled or heated. (By Air Force standards it did indeed suck!!!!) I won't bore you with the details as to why the plane was there in the first place, but Joseph Heller might have been writing about our experiences; Or not.

While I sit and prepare to return home, with luck in the same shape I am in now, a soldier waits to have his foot amputated in a hospital in the states. So, I will stop my whining, think good thoughts for him and say a prayer, and practice using my patience.

My best to all

Keith

What to say from Shindand, last post from here.

Okay, I have been the 3rd oldest on this deployment in my area for quite a while, like all deployment, so it amazes me when I realize that Doonesbury has been doing his thing for 35 years, weird weird weird. But he does it well, it only took me a year to actually check out the Sandbox so I thought I would point it out to you all. Read the message from the nurse in the states, that ought to put things in perspective, it did for me.
This is the day that I am packing all my stuff. So the final picture of this place. I have worked with people from almost all over the United States during my time here. Vermont, Georgia, South Carolina, Tennessee, Oklahoma, Minnesota, Wisconsin, Washington, and of course a little place we like to call Oregon.

Both the flags in this picture arrived at my location because Charlie and Joyce sent them, or had them sent. I am bringing the Oregon Flag back, as I am the last Oregonian here. The US Flag stays, because it looks great where it is. (How is that for flag waving???)

While it has been trying being separated from home for so long, I am reminded from time to time, that this is not the worst tour that happened this year. Some of they soldiers I deployed with a year ago have had significantly more hardship and danger. Some are not returning home with us. In Iraq US casualties are far more common than they are here. It always hits us when someone who we know is wounded or killed in action here. Fortunately that is not the norm in my area. In Iraq, we have men and women who face a certainty that someone they know will be injured, or killed, and they also know that the next day, they will have a mission that takes them into the same environment.

The people who have it the hardest however, from a daily stress perspective, are our families back home, who wonder if we are safe, when ever they think about us. I am really happy that that stress level will be able to drop soon.

Catching up on May, Big doings this month

To begin with, I believe every male relative I have from marrying my wife has a birthday this month. One could possibly draw from that point that relations in the August / September time frame result in boy children. Or you could decide that was hogwash, so many options are available.... In any case:

Happy Birthdays to Charlie, Bill, Steven, and Troy. Steven gets in because while he is technically a June birthday, it is so close you just have to include him, they range in ages from 13 to 71, and I will let them own up to that one.

I haven't written anything for a couple of days as we have had a VIP in our area scheduled, and I didn't want to give anything away. President Karzai came to town to talk with the elders of the area about the recent fight in Zirco Valley. I was not present for the discussion, but he addressed well over a thousand people, and he asked them if they wanted the US / ISAF forces to be withdrawn from the area. They as a group said that they did not want that. They do want schools and hospitals, which we were in the process of building prior to the fight in April. Ironically, one of the buildings that were used as a firing point was the school that we built last August to the tune of 100k. It has some cosmetic damage, but is still serviceable.

About the fight, a couple of points: Mud Hut, as I have stated earlier in the year is a misnomer. These are Adobe construction, with 18" to 2 feet thick walls, with 12 inches of mud brick domed over head. Dogs, Men and donkeys have all been personally observed standing on the roofs of these buildings; I point this out because a rifleman in a building like that is impervious to most weapons carried by any infantry type force on the battlefield. Mortars are not effective against buildings like these. Well placed grenade rounds are effective, but that is about it. Conversely an uparmored HMMWV is not all the protection you might like when RPG's are being used, particularly if you are the gunner.

Regardless of the justification or right or wrong of the April fight, one by product is that the fight out here has taken on a hugely political facet. That means right now that military actions are approved by civilians in Kabul. That eliminates rapid response to threats. In essence it cedes the battlefield to the antigovernment forces for the time being, when this changes, and it will, it will be necessary to regain influence in the area.

Today two of my good friends and brothers in arms have departed for the first step in their journey home. It marks the beginning of the end here really, and I will begin packing my bags in earnest here shortly.

I received a copy of an article by retired Admiral James Lyons, and I have to say I think it is worth reading, so here it is.

I hope you enjoy it; I have a complete article in my head about the role of the military, but so do a hundred other folks.