Category Archives: healthcare

February 21, 2010 · 23:58

Oh the Pain…Padre Steve’s Kidney Stone Naming Contest

Getting set to pass the stone

Well I spent a good part of the last night and early this morning with the Abbess visiting my friends in the Naval Medical Center Portsmouth Emergency Room.  I had been in pretty bad pain most of the day and even went with the Abbess to visit a retired chaplain friend and his wife as he has been a patient at our medic al center for the past week.  As we visited I continued to be in pain and when we went home I had the Abbess drop me off at home while she went to Gordon Biersch.  Anyone who knows me knows that I have to be feeling really bad not to go out and have a beer with the Abbess and or Stein Club friends on Saturday night.  The Abbess was convinced when we left the hospital that I would be back but being that I have a rather high threshold for pain compared to most people as well as a typical career military man view of pain and illness I thought that I would feel better and ride it out.  I did not expect a kidney stone and thinking it was something gastric went hope to vegetate and hope that with some chicken soup and some anti-gas meds that it would go away.  Wrong answer padre…

As I sat on the couch trying to get comfortable with pain waxing and waning and Molly doing her best to “will” me into feeling better I continued to feel worse.  The Abbess came home and pronounced that if I was still feeling this way at midnight we were going to the hospital whether I wanted to or not.  At about 11 PM I cried uncle and she drove me to the hospital.  Every freaking bump on the road was misery and when we got to the ER I got out of the car and limped into the ER. I could barely walk and was doubled over in pain, which when the triage nurse asked what level on a scale of 1 to 10 I said 5 to 6 because though it hurt it was not the worst pain that I have ever had which can only be reserved for the “undead tooth of terror.” (See Killing off the Undead Tooth of Terror)

One of the good things about playing on the home field is that people recognize you, of course for some this can be good or bad but thankfully for me it was good as I like the folks down in ER and the only thing that could make my affection for them be greater was if we were a trauma center.  What can I say? I did my residency at Parkland Memorial Hospital as the Trauma and Surgery Department Chaplain and served as an ER Department Chaplain at another regional trauma center.  None the less I know a good number of the staff, especially the ER residents as well as the surgery, internal medicine, psychiatry and other residents who see patients in the ER.  Last night was only different in the fact that I was not making rounds or being called to the ER but was a patient, something that I have little patience at being.

After a relatively short but uncomfortable wait in the waiting room I was taken back to a bay with a curtain as a partition given a gown and put on a monitor which as I observed that my vital signs, despite my pain were very good. My conditioning program is paying off.  I knew the ER attending, the RN and the Hospital Corpsmen that attended to me and other staff members who know me took time to visit.  Dr Ventura told me that he thought that it was likely a kidney stone and both he and the RN asked me about the color of my urine which I compared to a cloudy Keller Beer or Hefe-Weizen. How else can you describe urine when it does not have the clarity or effervescence of a Pilsner? I was sent to get a CT scan which was pretty cool. CT’s have come a long way since my residency, what used to be a 20-30 minute procedure only took about 2-3 minutes and I didn’t even have to take my San Francisco Giants baseball hat off.

So anyway, after being discharged from the ER and saying good bye to all my friends we went up to get the myriad of drugs from our pharmacy including pain meds like Vicodin as well as meds to help the stone pass and other meds.  I think the bag of meds weighed a couple of pounds.  So since the Abbess was really worn out I drove us home which meant that I did not hit the rough spots in the road beacus I know where they are.  After dropping her off and getting a sweet greeting from Molly I went over to our 24 hour super Wal-Mart and picked my way around the stockers to pick up a few things including the Minute Maid Lemonade that the staff told me would help me pass the stone.

Now kidney stones can take anywhere from 3 to 30 days to pass and if they don’t they may have to be removed. Approximately 80 percent of these stones contain calcium, as either calcium oxalate, calcium phosphate or a combination. Another 10 to 15 percent are composed of magnesium ammonium phosphate, s0metimes  known as struvite, while only 5 to 10 percent are uric acid stones. Fewer than 1 percent of stones are cystine.  Now for people like me this is interesting I don’t know too many people who laying on an ER bed think all the technical details of their illness.

Finally home I got to bed just before 0600 and got up just before noon.  Since getting up I have eaten light and drank a lot of fluids, like tons of fluids and since I need to try to capture the stone have a wire mesh coffee filter with a little handle which makes it like a bucket to piss into.  This will of course be consigned to oblivion once the stone is passed as there is no way, even with high tech sterilization gear available that anything that has had urine pass through it will ever be used to filter something that will pass through my lips.  If you remember the Seinfeld where Jerry’s girlfriend’s toothbrush fell in the toilet you will understand completely.

So now I wait.  I have been doing everything that I have been told to do but it seems that the stone has gone into hiding.  I haven’t passed it but it is still in me.  The choice for it is to come out on its own or be blasted into kidney stone oblivion or should either of those measures fail be surgically removed.  I guess with choices like that I would prefer the natural birth even though it stands to be painful.  I do hope and pray that that if this is the case that the stone will come out on the 4mm side and not the 7mm side, otherwise I will be like Kramer in the Seinfeld episode where he passes a kidney stone. I just hope when this happens I am nowhere near anyone whose life is depending on something.   http://www.strimoo.com/video/13214541/kramer-gets-a-kidney-stone-Dailymotion.html

So my challenge now is to figure out what to name this.  My friend Greg who is a Priest and Navy Chaplain says that I need to capture and keep it in case I am ever considered for canonization as a Saint.  However I wonder who the hell would want that kind of relic but realize after visiting various diocesan museums in Europe I know that anything can wind up as a relic.  So my question to my readers is what to name this stone.  I am leading to Adolf since he was a pain to remove during the Second World War.  Friends on Facebook have suggested other names and it will be interesting to see if any consensus builds as to what to name this bad boy.  So feel free to comment here or on my Facebook page as what you think this stone should be named.  Like the undead tooth of terror I will keep you apprised of this health issue as well as try to keep a humorous perspective on this.  Again thanks to all my friends in the ER and blessings to all. Pray for me a sinner.

Peace,

Steve+

Post Script: While in the ER it came to me that the doctor who called me to the ER back in December to administer the last rites to a dying retired military doctor was Eric Inge.  He was a key part of my Christmas miracle and I will not forget him, see

Doubt and Faith: My Crisis in Faith and Why I am Still a Christian an Advent Meditation

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January 11, 2010 · 22:34

Baseball Beyond Life and Death in the ICU

“I consider myself the luckiest man on the face of the Earth. And I might have been given a bad break, but I’ve got an awful lot to live for…” Lou Gehrig

Today I was walking away from our hospital pharmacy where I had to pick up a prescription and I heard a voice of a man call out to me…no not a voice crying out in the wilderness, but a familiar voice.  I looked around and immediately recognized the man as the husband of the woman who back in May of last year was very near death in our ICU.  I wrote about that in a little post called Baseball in Between Life and Death in the ICU. That post came at an interesting time for my PTSD battle was still raging, my dad’s condition was getting worse and I was getting ready to go home for what I thought be my last visit and I was heavily engaged on the ICU and PICU.

The lady sat next to her husband, and it was yet another of the recent blessings in my life that I have begun to count as miracles. She looked great, especially since last year her prognosis for her life once she left the hospital was measured in weeks or a couple of months.  The woman was a big baseball fan and even coached.  Her husband kept baseball games on her ICU television whenever they were on even though she was for the most part very heavily sedated and only occasionally conscious. We had many visits by her bedside and one day I brought in a baseball that I had thrown out as the first pitch at a Kinston Indians game on a wedding anniversary a few years back.  With her husband and sister in the room I put the ball in her hand which tightened around it.  For what I understand the ball seldom left her hand as she remained in the ICU.  As we visited they both told me how much what I did in the ICU meant to them, the prayer, anointing of the sick and the baseball.  She told me that the ball, an official Carolina League ball on her mantle.  What was funny she only vaguely remembered my face because of her terrible condition and sedation, but that her husband would not stop talking about me. We chatted some more and talked about all the prayer that had been made on her behalf as well as the hard work of the ICU and Cardiology teams to keep her alive and help her recover.  I mentioned that probably the whole companies of baseball “saints” in heaven were praying for her as well and we all had a great laugh.  I had to leave and go to a call but we exchanged hugs and blessings.

Today has been a busy day.  I have already dealt with the death of a relatively young woman with cancer in palliative care; withdraw of life support from a man and several other situations where people could be spending their last hours or days on earth.  I had given last rites to the woman who passed away tonight last Thursday when I was on call.

I mentioned last week that despite everything I still felt good emotionally though I was physically worn out. Today I am pretty fresh even now and know that I will need to remain her much of the day tomorrow no matter what happens tonight.  However for the first time in a while I can say that I am ready and feel something like my old self again.  What began as Padre Steve’s Christmas Miracle has continued into the New Year and despite complications and infection associated with my implant surgery I feel good. I am hoping to be cleared Wednesday to PT again and am looking forward to good things even in the midst of life and death both inside and outside of the ICU.

There are some other things going on that I will be writing about in the coming days. Baseball spring training is getting closer and lots of deals and trades are happening. The Orioles and Giants have both picked up some hitting and have great young pitching.  On the other news front I am glad that Mark McGuire finally admitted his use of steroids.  At the same time I am not going to condemn him as so many others were doing the same thing, I just wished he had not taken them and come clean sooner.

Now I’m heading back upstairs to check on all of my really sick folks and savoring the bit of time that I had for dinner and to write this little post.

Peace

Padre Steve+

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December 29, 2009 · 23:59

Observations of My Oral Surgery

Today I had the initial part of my implant work done to replace the departed “Undead Tooth of Terror. This was the first time I had oral surgery vice normal dentistry.  If you have never had it the only comparison to regular dentistry is that it involves teeth.  It is real surgery, albeit not like getting your noggin or ticker opened up.  However in the weeks leading up to this surgery I experienced a fair amount of anxiety and even a couple of nightmares related to the procedure, including if something went wrong. When you prepare for something like this, or any other medical or surgical procedure you sign a consent form. These include the risks associated with the procedure as well as the anesthesia.  One of these complications or risks is death which is not on my list of things that I want to experience in the next 30 years or so.

Implant Screws

I’ve done a lot of hospital work in major teaching hospitals, mainly in critical care, ER, Medical, Surgical, Burn, Neurosurgery and Pediatric ICU’s.  I have become quite adept at learning about what goes on in those places, to include understanding something about how critical care intensivists of all types work to include a lot of the technical things that they observe with patients.  I am probably one of the few chaplains who that has a copy of The ICU Book and can read heart rhythms, understanding the relationships of blood pressure, cardiac output, oxygen saturation levels as well as a host of other cool to know things.  When the Abbess was in the Emergency Room at a local hospital I made the diagnosis of her Epiglottis before the physicians.  After that one of our attendings at my hospital told me that wasn’t too late to go back to Medical School.  The thought is intriguing but alas, even Padre Steve doesn’t want to go back to school for that long at this point in life.  However I could probably play a very convincing doctor in film or on TV if given the chance.  I will entertain offers if someone wants to shoot something like MASH.

Today was interesting.  I was taken into one of the oral and maxillofacial surgery operating rooms.  These are equipped with the kinds of monitoring equipment found in an OR or an ICU.  I have observed these on quite a few patients and can read them rather well.  Today the difference was that they were monitoring me and not another person.  So this intrigued me, I have not been to a operating room since I was 7 years old at Bremerton Naval Hospital.  Things have changed in the 42 years between visits, or at least my perspective has changed.

I was seated in what looked like a dental chair on steroids.  I was hooked up to the monitor with a 4 lead EKG and pulse oxygen monitor and had a nasal cannula. An IV was placed and I was asked a litany of questions.  With all the monitors hooked up my doctor came in and talked about the procedure and a light anesthesia ‘cocktail” of drugs including Fentanyl and a couple of others that I cannot remember right now.  A large table was placed before me with a large number surgical and dental utensils.

Normal Sinus Rhythm

I looked up at the monitor as they got things going and made final preparations.  My heart rate was in the 58-67 range in normal sinus rhythm, in fact a very nice looking rhythm. My respiratory rate ranged from 5-11 a minute and my SPO2 or oxygen saturation ranged from 96-99.  Noninvasive blood pressure was 116/71 with a mean of 86.  Not bad for someone nearly 50.  The drugs we injected through the IV access point and I entered what is called “twilight” sedation.” It is a state where you are sedated but can still follow simple commands from the surgeon if need be.  I could hear what was going on but it was like being in a dreamlike state.  Occasionally I could hear the surgeon giving directions to his resident and also the noise of the drill, which was not the normal high pitched sound of a dental drill.

When it was over they brought me up out of the sedation and I looked around, my numbers were still close to what were on the monitor to begin with so I was still alive.  I was allowed to see the x-ray with the placement of the implant mount which is actually screws into the jaw.    I was informed that a bone graft was done and that I would only be able to have liquids and soft foods for the next two weeks.  I’ll have a follow up next week, be off of work until the New Year holiday, no PT for a week and light duty, including being told “not to talk too much” to allow the implant and graft to heal.

As I was collecting myself  I saw the corpsmen disposing of trash and “hazardous waste from the room.  In clear container, actually a container that is used for suctioned fluids from the mouth, was something that looked like a strawberry daiquiri, it was the blood and water suctioned from my mouth during the procedure and was about half full.  I commented to the corpsmen what I thought it looked like which caused them to laugh in agreement and said that I was a beer drinker.  I was wheeled out of the hospital in a wheelchair to the Abbess waited for me in my trusty 2001 Honda CR-V. I can’t drive through tomorrow and am to take it pretty easy.

The pain has been manageable and has been a far cry from the agony I went through during the summer with the Undead Tooth of Terror, something for which I can definitely thank the Deity Herself.

This has given me a small glimpse at the perspective of one of the patients that I see every day, so it has been worthwhile in a number of ways, and not just as a means to better dental health.  I remember Henri Nouwen’s book Beyond the Mirror which recounts his experience as a patient following being hit by the mirror of a truck alongside a road.  Such experiences are important for those who provide any kind of care, especially pastoral care.  For me the almost surreal experience was to borrow a phrase from Star Trek’s Mr. Spock simply “fascinating.”

All I can say is that at least beer is a soft food and though I have an implant I will never look like Mariel Hemingway.

Peace

Padre Steve+

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October 18, 2009 · 00:09

MLB League Championship Series so Far, I will wear Short Pants until the World Series is Over and Learning that I am a “Wounded Healer”

So far things appear to be working out the way that I thought that they would in the MLC League Championship Series between the Phillies and Dodgers. I predicted that the teams would split at Chavez Ravine and go back to Philly knotted.  The Phillies took game one and looked like they had game two in the bag with Pedro Martinez shutting the Dodgers out through seven giving up only two hits.  Then the Phillies problematic bullpen took over in the eighth and it went down from there with the Dodgers coming back to win.

The ALCS has been played at the new Yankee Stadium amid the din of a Nor’easter.  The Yankees took game one 4-1 as the Angels quite literally “froze” in the cold and damp weather.  Game two played in even worse conditions has been influenced by the weather and was a superb pitcher’s duel.  The game went into extra innings tied at two and though the Angels went ahead in the top of the 11th as the rain started coming down harder only to have Alex Rodriguez come up big again for the Yankees in the bottom of the 11th with a home run to tie the game.  The game went to the bottom of the 13th when with one out the Yankees scored on a throwing error to win the game 4-3.  It was an amazing game that I could not pull myself away from but will write more about later.

On another note, the weather here in Hampton Roads has been miserable as we also have had some of the residue of the Nor’easter with cold rain, fog and drizzle that has not let up.  Amid this positively crappy weather I am maintaining my vow to wear short pants as long as I can with the exceptions being my uniform and going to church.  This means that I am bundling up from the belt up while keeping my legs bare.  I have never done this before which means either I’m nuts or I’m nuts, but nonetheless I am in this until the World Series is over at the minimum.  Since with the exception of church, work and one social event where shorts were unacceptable I have not worn long pants since sometime in April.  Tonight I had a Norfolk Tides jacket and sweatshirt on.  We’ll see how this goes…

I have the duty this weekend and have been in and out of the hospital a number of times.  One of the visits called to mind just how much I am like the people I serve and what it means to have to ask the same questions about God, faith and what it is to be human and a Christian. What got me tonight was a gentleman struggling with his faith, much as I have after returning from Iraq and battling PTSD and other nagging injuries.  Having him ask the same questions that I have wrestled with and having him ask me directly what I thought.  I have learned that I don’t have to “fake it” and try to give the man some textbook answer of how he needed to believe more, read his Bible more, go to church more, pray more or harder.  Instead I was able to be honest that I have wrestled with the same question but somehow the words of the 23rd Psalm speak to me.  “Even though I walk through the valley of the shadow of death, I will fear no evil for you are with me.”  The Psalm is very reassuring for me as it is so honest.  Reality is that we do walk through the valley of the shadow of death.  In fact it is a difficult and pain filled world.  That I will fear no evil means that evil is in fact very real but in the middle of this there is an understanding that God is still with us.  It is an understanding that even when life is more like Good Friday than Easter, that God as far away as he may seem is still there.  Maybe that is actually the miracle that most people need, the miracle to know that no matter how bad things suck, and I do use the word “suck” because that is how it is sometimes, especially when there is no “miracle” to be had otherwise.  When I told the man that I had spent the past 18 months wrestling with those questions he opened up and we had a wonderful discussion and prayer.   I am totally okay with this somehow God uses me in my weakness more than when I had all the answers.

Tonight I discovered that  Bishop John Holloway, the medically retired former Ordinary of the Charismatic Episcopal Church Diocese of the Mid-South and one of the early leaders of the Church, his wife Elaine and two youngest children have to leave their home in Thomaston Georgia.  They moved there as a missionary bishop giving up pension and medical from the Methodist Church to follow God’s call into the CEC.  The home is being foreclosed on after the church, which has no pension or insurance plan in most dioceses for clergy and had provided a great deal of money to help pay off debts in the past has had to reduce the money they were providing by half and now according it the Holloways’ son Jared to nothing.  Their home is being foreclosed on and they have to be out by December 1st and if you want to read more go to his blog: http://jzholloway.wordpress.com/  If there is a question as to how the CEC currently handles finaces go to www.cechome.com where the budgets and expenses of every diocese are posted.  There had been great problems in the past in the finacial management of the CEC largely done by people no longer associated with the church, including some former bishops.  I think this is getting better under Archbishop Bates unfotunately the residue and distaste of that era is still out there.

I really don’t know what to think about that except that I did talk to a CEC Bishop about it and hear that there are other parts to the story.  That aside, when the CEC was formed and one of the things that drew me to it was that the CEC was to would be more personal and relational than churches where the bishops did not really know their clergy. I think that is still the ideal in the Church but what Jared is reporting and what I hear from Elaine on Facebook gives me some cause for concern because it deals with a bishop who can no longer function and is completely disabled. Additionally Elaine is a cancer survivor who has exeeded her life expectancy with the disease.  Obiviously things are not good for them and I have to trust that the situation will be resolved in a spirit of love and reconcilliation and that ultimately the Holloways will be taken care of by the church and God’s people.  I cannot say anything else because I do not know anything else, but to say how this grieves me as Bishop Holloway was and I’m sure, even in his greatly de-habilitated and totally dependent state is a gracious and giving man.  I always felt comfortable and safe around him.  He ordained my friend Father Stu King back in 2001.  Stu has left the CEC having been accepted into Seminary and in now working to become a Roman Catholic Priest.  I’m sure that Bishop John would approve and give his blessing.  Please keep the Holloways in your prayers. I have no idea if there is anything that can be done to help them, if there is Jared may know or one could contact the Mid South Diocese of the CEC.

I also found that a friend, the sister of our dear friend Dr Helen Linkey who taught at Marshall University who battled breast cancer for two years before succumbing to it in 2005 has found a lump in her breast. She is going in for a biopsy which is expected to find cancer. Maryellen occasionally comments on my website and her news was included in her comment to my post from last night at https://padresteve.wordpress.com/2009/10/16/war-remembrance-and-healing-a-chaplain-officer-and-historian-makes-his-way-home/

Please keep Maryellen in your prayers also. Anyway, it is time for me to try to get to sleep.

Peace,

Padre Steve+

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September 24, 2009 · 18:32

The Sacrament of the Smile….Making it Real

In Andrew Greeley’s Bishop Blackie Ryan mystery “The Archbishop in Andalusia” the character Bishop Blackie makes a comment after celebrating Mass in the cathedral at Seville. He said “Every sacramental encounter is an evangelical occasion. A smile warm and happy is sufficient. If people return to the pews with a smile, it’s been a good day for them. If the priest smiles after the exchanges of grace, it may be the only good experience of the week.”  (The Archbishop in Andalusia p.77)

I’m the kind of person that if I’m angry or not doing well my face can show it even if I don’t want it to.  It’s sometimes hard to hide emotions even though I try, but I have gotten pretty good at hiding them by putting on a poker face and smiling, even if it hurts to do so.   This works most of the time, but sometimes with people who know me pretty well it catch me.  They ask me if I’m doing okay and they are pretty good at taking care of me in those moments, which unfortunately are a lot more common after Iraq than before it but occasionally happen.

However on the whole I remain a pretty upbeat person.  I think my most common greeting with people that I work with or see relatively often is “Hey, what’s up, what’s new, what’s happening in the world?” Most of the time I’m a pretty laid back kind of person. I think that this is due a blend of genetics from a recessive gene in my family as well as having grown up on the West Coast and spending a lot of my adult life somewhere in the former Confederate States of America.   The genetic factor has to be a recessive gene as a lot of folks in my family can get spun up and pretty serious pretty fast.

Since being upbeat unless I am downcast is the baseline for me, even with my PTSD I find a lot of humor in life and still manage to have fun.  I love the folks that I work with in my ICUs and being in those places with those colleagues does me an incredible amount of good.

One thing that I have noticed is that it is important for me to smile; in fact I generally like smiling except when I don’t.   I admit that there are some times and some people that I am like the scene in the movie Patton where Patton is forced to make conversation with a Soviet General after the war.  In those kinds of times the smile is definitely faked and thankfully most people don’t realize it.

However what I find is that many people respond positively to a genuine and caring smile and greeting.  Let’s face it times are not the best, all the economic problems and political conflict coupled with ongoing wars and wondering what is going to happen stress a lot of people out.  A lot of this is the news media’s fault as they heap one negative story after another on their viewers, particularly those who are addicted to 24 hour non-stop cable news and talk radio.  As a result it is amazing to see the number of people out in town who don’t smile.  Since I work in a pretty good sized teaching medical center I see people going through a lot of health and life crisis, but even here I don’t quite see the level of disgruntledness that I see out in town.  Frankly I’d like to see a lot more gruntled than disgruntled people.

In the past year that I have been here I have endeavored to be as positive and cheerful as possible and with some exceptions I have managed pretty well.  In fact I have made it my crusade to honestly try to greet everyone that I contact with a kind word or smile and often a God bless you or simply “blessings on your head.” What I love to see is someone who has been obviously beaten down; do a double take when they realize that someone; that being me, is taking the time to say something nice to them.  I love the sheepish smiles, the surprised thank you and God bless you responses that I get in return.

No place is this more important than church or chapel service when I or for that matter any Priest or minister serves God’s people.  Grumpy pastors, who are too bothered to care, perform their duties in a perfunctory manner or worse are rude and disrespectful to the people that God entrusts to their care  do damage.  It’s like Archbishop Blackie said, the encounters that we have are occasions to share the grace and love of God, to be with them, care for them and are in a very real sense both evangelical and sacramental occasions.  When I was in Jacksonville Florida as a Navy Chaplain I would occasionally serve at the altar of our cathedral church.  People would almost always comment on how joyful I looked while celebrating Eucharist and serving communion.  How can I not be when I am entrusted with such a great gift for God’s people?

Judy and my college room-mate Kendra is in town this week.  We had kind of a three’s company situation.  I had my men’s bedroom which was a total college guy mess and Judy and Kendra shared the other bedroom.  At the time Kendra was an Atheist being bombarded by many of our well meaning but hyper aggressive Christian friends.  We had a blast.  Kendra is like super duper deaf, lost all of her hearing at the age of four after she had learned to speak and read. She’s incredibly intelligent and as a 15 year old scored in the upper one percentile of the SAT where I not to be too flashy scored somewhere around the upper thirty-fifth percentile due to my abysmal math score. It was due to Kendra that I learned sign language.  All of Judy’s friends were deaf at Cal State Northridge and I needed it, but Kendra and her sense of humor helped make me do it.  When I first met her Judy had to run out and when Judy came back to her dorm room, this was before the three’s company” set up she found Kendra and I reading the “Official Sick Joke Book” and since I couldn’t sign just yet pointing to the jokes and laughing.  Anyway, Kendra eventually came to faith and joined the Episcopal Church in Pasadena just a few years back.  In her spiritual biography she mentions us not trying to convert her, even going to church with us without feeling pressure. She knew that we cared for her and our continued friendship was a part of how she came to faith.  I thought that was so cool.  My sign language is in the crapper now but I am going to do my best to have fun.  I picked up a copy of “Mommy Dearest” so we could watch it and relive great memories of chasing each other around the apartment with wire coat hangers saying “no more wire hangers.” Trust me you have to see the movie to get this one.

Of course I try to ensure that I don’t appear to be a total idiot when I do this, with some mindless smile or joke that is inappropriate to the occasion.  Let’s look at a unlikely scenario: With me in the room the Doctor says to the patient “Sir, I have good and bad news.”   The patient says “What’s the good news?” The doctor replies “the good news is pretty soon you will feel no pain.”  The patient says “Doctor that’s wonderful news, you know I’ve been in so much pain for so long.  So what’s the bad news?” The doctor replies “Son you’re going to die.” Then I as the chaplain with a mindless big grin on my face chime in, “Let’s focus on the positive now…have you seen The Bucket list? Gotta love Jack Nicholson and Morgan Freeman huh? They are such good actors.  Hey, I have an idea, you want to pray?”  As the nurses and doctors struggle to pull the man’s hands from around my throat I gasp out “so do you want me to come back later?”  That of course is extremely unlikely in my case; in fact I usually am the glass half-full kind of guy when it comes to dealing with sick people since I am neither a physician nor God.

I have a sense of gallows humor but am very careful how and when to use it and thankfully I am able to not smile like an idiot when bad news gets delivered.   It’s a gift.  Let’s face it there is that stuff about those Chinese kids Yin and Yang, everything has to be in balance.

All this being said there are times where the foot is in the other shoe. These are the times that the person who is afflicted with a life threatening condition or knows that they are dying is the one who smiles and comforts others, even throwing in a joke or poking fun at someone in the room.  Having experienced this even very recently I have to say that these kinds of folks do more for me than I think that I can ever do for them.   Often there is a time of interaction where the person allows me into their world, to share a story, a laugh and a blessing.  For a Priest it doesn’t get any better than that.  These are holy times where God shows up and tonight I have the honor of spending time with such a man and his family.  I am reminded at these times how precious the time is and just how in the midst of pain, suffering and even death, that the God who says “I will never leave you or forsake you” is truly with us as we walk through the “valley of the shadow of death.”

I’ll be smiling tonight in every ward that I visit and hopefully with every staff member, patient and family member that I encounter, knowing that in their lives, that smile might be the only good thing that happens to them all day, or maybe even all week.

Make sure that you smile and give a kind word to someone soon.

Peace,

Padre Steve+

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August 29, 2009 · 17:04

Leave no Soldier Behind? I think not…A letter from an IOF Vet and Reader

Note: This is the sanitized version of an e-mail that I received last night from a OIF 05 and OIF 07 Veteran Army Officer who has been awarded two Bronze Star Medals for his service in Iraq and was Medivac’d out of Iraq during his second tour when he was diagnosed with an exceptionally rare incurable and eventually  fatal lung disorder that he contracted in Iraq with two separate Brigade Combat Teams.  Since then he has developed other medical conditions brought on by his lack of pulmonary function.   He is in process of being medically boarded out of the Army and is despairing to the point of having suicidal thoughts and ideations, wondering if it would be better for him to die on active duty so his wife and child would have a better financial support than if he waited to die a few years from now as a medical retiree.  I was able to contact this officer to listen to him at length this morning and afternoon. He has agreed to get help for these thoughts and I have given him the means to contact me any time and he has contracted with me to get help, I suggested a trip to his local medical facility Emergency Room.  He has given me permission to share this as he no longer feels protected enough by the Army to say it on his blog.  Please pray for this man and take care of the Combat Veterans, active duty, disabled or retired that you know.   His letter follows.

Peace,

Steve+

Dear Padre Steve,

This is why I am not posting on line…(I would say things like the following…)

I really do not know how much more I can take! I am beaten down, first by my own body and the diseases that are exacting a high price; second by the fight waged to receive some kind of medical care; third by the callus medical care provided; fourth by the institution of the Army attitude and treatment of “broken” people; by how the institution seeks to downplay and disregard the sacrifices of those who have sacrificed so much–by trivializing the toll of the disease–especially when not clearly visible.

Without a thirteen round prize fight the Army will throw me off the back of metaphoric  5-ton and act like they are doing me a favor by slowing down to 55 mph! “Look, you worthless scum-bag, we are doing you a favor by slowing down. Don’t, worry, you should be OK…we will try and get you off to the side so the tank does not role over you…”

The system, and the people within it, constantly questions your “worthiness” of any consideration. Then if you insist  on getting help for things that you know are wrong with you they double and triple question as if there is no way you could be telling the truth.

It is easy to say that I am at my wits end with all of what is going on in my life lately. The constant fight to receive what is necessary right is darning. I have been dealing with this callused indifference since being Medivac’d in the middle of my second Iraq tour. The system seems to be designed to wear you down so that rather than continuing to fight for the care that you need, just take what little the Army is willing to give.  I found out this week that after I am med-boarded out of the service that I will have to fight the Army all over again to be able to keep my Army benefits when I apply to the VA.  This is happening despite the fact that the Congress recently allowed for this compensation for veterans.

Will justice EVER be given? At what price?

Does the “Army” GIVE A DAMN!? The short answer is NO! There may be some individuals who do. What is experienced is the Teflon affect. Not many, if any, are willing to get dirty and fight for or on behalf on another. People end up getting treated as paper and numbers–not the individual they are, or for the sacrifices they have made. The individual is trivialized through the bureaucratic process that most involved in processing hide behind to separate them from the reality and often pain experienced by those suffering in the system.

I have recently started trying to get help from my PTSD.  A board certified Army physician that I wrote a consult for me to see someone.  I was contacted and told that the people who run the program here no longer take appointments or consults and that I would have to be “triaged” by a medical or psych tech to get an appointment that might be 3 months from now?  I might be dead by then. I don’t feel safe.

People may listen, but they usual will not, cannot, or do not know what to do. So trying to get help is like trying to find a particular molecule of water in the ocean.

This process SUCKS. It is worse than my first, very trauma filled, combat tour in Iraq (OIF 05-07). It is demoralizing. I squarely wish I had lost my legs them the lung function that I have lost!

I am an officer with TWO BRONZE STARS for my Iraq service.  I gave all that I had and my honesty, integrity and faith in the Army that I joined is being called into question.  If it is happening to me, what is happening to junior personnel? Who is their advocate? Is it any wonder that soldiers are committing suicide and unheard of rates?  Shit I have even counted up the money and figured that my family would be better off if I died on active duty than after my medical retirement.  What the hell is up with that? Why should I have to die for the Army to take care of my family?

What do I have to do to be heard? Does God even care? I’m just asking. Thanks for listening.

Sincerely,

Joe Smith (a pseudonym)

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August 7, 2009 · 14:11

Yet another Unexpected Death of a Shipmate and Probable Rough Seas Ahead

SCPO3DIn Memorium Senior Chief Hospital Corpsman D’Juana Hayes-Jones

This has been another difficult week at Portsmouth Naval Medical Center.  Once again we experienced the unexpected and unsettling death of a beloved Shipmate. HMCS D’juna Hayes-Jones, the Senior Enlisted Advisor for the Director of Nursing Services passed away early Wednesday morning of a massive Heart attack or another sudden catastrophic event.

I was just coming off of duty and conducting the duty turnover when the pager went off.  The chaplain relieving me took the page and came back saying that he had just been informed that we had lost yet another Shipmate and said that he had to go get more information.  I looked at our Deputy Department director and said: “I pray someone that I don’t know; I’m really tired of losing people that I know.”  A few minutes later my friend came back and gave us Senior Chief’s name.  I was pretty tired having come off a night with little sleep.  Initially I looked at him and the deputy and said; “I’m sure I know her but am trying to picture her face.”  We finished the turnover and I started to walk back up to the ICU when I clearly saw and remembered her face, which always had a friendly and caring expression.  I had just seen her and said hello the day before in one of the main hallways.  When this registered I simply said “shit, not another one, damn.”  This was the 5th active duty death that we have had since December.  I had met all five and had a decent number of interactions with three of the five.  Senior Chief was one that I had met a lot in the hallways, had frequent small conversations with and was involved quite heavily with when Senior Chief Pam Branum passed away on June 2nd of this year.  Additionally we had a civilian RN pass away and several civilians in our clinics.  The active duty deaths were all unexpected and tragic.  We have come close to losing a number of other shipmates who were very close to death but have since recovered.  With all the deployments added in we are all showing some strain with the loss of our friends and shipmates, so it is important to take care of each other because we don’t know what tomorrow brings.  With more deployments coming, a flu season that never ended and H1N1 looming on the horizon I fear that this will not be the last shipmate we lose this year.  I pray that I am wrong but my intuition tells me something different.  In the midst of this I am reminded that we must live to the fullest and not waste the life that God has given us. As Marcus Aurelius said “Execute every act of thy life as though it were thy last.”

Losing good people, who care for others, strive for excellence and serve faithfully who are younger than me, is getting old.  Senior Chief from what I had seen and heard was a great leader who really cared for her corpsmen and the nursing Staff.  She could always be found out among her corpsmen on the nursing units and clinics.  She was kind, fair and a caring teacher, coach and mentor to many corpsmen and nurses.  Her loss was met with stunned disbelief by those who knew her and who really have not yet fully recovered from the loss of Chief Branum.  Her death has shaken all of us who knew her, from the most senior officers and Chiefs, to the most junior corpsmen as well civilian staff.  I and most of our other chaplains have spent significant time with our shipmates since this happened.

Senior Chief Hayes-Jones would have had her retirement ceremony on August 28th.  She leaves behind two children, her husband and her shipmates.  We will have a memorial service for her next week; the date is still to be announced as of this post.

God bless you all and take care of each other as we once again walk through the valley of the shadow of death.

Peace, Steve+

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July 22, 2009 · 00:01

My Brotherhood of War

Dynamic DuoRP2 Nelson Lebron and Me- The RST-2 “Desert Rats”

Back in the mid 80s shortly after I was commissioned as an Army Officer there was a series of historical novels by W.E.B. Griffin called the Brotherhood of War. The series traced the paths of several Army officers as well as family and friends beginning in World War II. I am not much of a reader of fiction, but this series, as well as Anton Meyer’s Once an Eagle well captured the unique culture of the career professional soldier through both war and peace.  They treated their subject respectfully while also dealing with the effect of this lifestyle on families as well as the soldiers, reading Once and Eagle I feel that connection with the fictional Sam Damon, the hero of the story and revulsion for the character of the self serving careerist Courtney Massengale.

I’ve been a military officer in both the Army and Navy now for almost 26 years with nearly 28 years total service. It is part of my heart, soul and being.  I was born for this, just as Babe Ruth, Willie Mays and Ted Williams were born to be baseball players.  I grew up in a Navy family as a Navy “Brat” living up and down the West Coast and the Philippines and all I can remember from the earliest age wanted to be in the Navy Officer and later Navy Chaplain.  My dreams came true.  The first 17 ½ years of my service was in the Army, something that that initially my retired Navy Chief Dad had problems with, however he made his peace with it and was proud that I served and proud of the fact that I had made Major.  However, in 1999 in order to return to active duty I resigned my Army Reserve commission as a Major and entered the Navy Chaplain Corps as a Lieutenant with no time in grade.  Outside of marrying my wife Judy, who somehow did not kill me when I did this, going in the Navy was the best thing that ever happened to me.

134LtCol David Kuehn and Me

Part of my time in the Army and Navy has been my time in the Chaplain Corps of each service.  I have been a chaplain for 17 years come September.  My best friends in the military are other chaplains, some from my own church and some from other communions.  The ones that I have the most connectedness to are those who have served in combat, especially those who served in Iraq, or ships in the war zone conducting various combat and maritime operations even when we were in different places.  In Iraq I was blessed to have Fr Jose Bautista-Rojas and Chaplain Pat McLaughlin supporting me at my base of operations.  There were others besides these men and many who were not chaplains. In Baghdad I had the staff of the Iraq Assistance Group Chief of Staff Colonel David Abramowitz and Chaplain Peter Dissmore and Captain Mike Langston at II MEF Forward.  Likewise I had Colonel Scott Cottrell and Colonel John Broadmeadow at 7th Iraqi Division Military Training Team, my friend LtCol David Kuehn at 3rd Brigade 1st Iraqi Division Military Training Team, LtCol Stephen Bien with the 2nd Border Brigade and a host of others about Al Anbar Province. As important if not more was my assistant RP2 Nelson Lebron, a true hero and friend.

chaplains and rp2 lebron at TQNelson, Fr Jose Bautista-Rojas, CDR Pat MCLaughlin and Me at TQ

Back in March of this year I was with a number of chaplains from my church gathered for our annual conference.  Some of these men I have now known for at least 10 years, some more.  I’ve seen the young guys start to age and others retired from the service.  We have grown together; we at least in most cases have come to love each other as brothers and friends.   What has made this conference different from past gatherings is that all of us have had one or more combat deployments or are getting ready to go for the first time or back for another tour.

nelson and me flight homeNelson and Me in the Air Everywhere

We have shared our stories but now they are the stories of men who have all seen war.  In our careers we have all experienced success, as well as heartache.  Due to our duty we have been often isolated from the church and each other.  We all came back from the war changed in some way.   Some of this is due to health related issues stemming from our service and for others things that we have seen or experienced.  Of course each of us has had different types of experience in country, but nonetheless our experienced changed all of us in some way or another.  For me the events have been trying to make sense of the torrent of emotional, physical and spiritual distress that I have had to deal with.  While I have made a lot of progress in some areas, there are a lot of places where I’m still sorting through things as are a number of my friends.  I can say that I often feel alienated from my own church.  When I read things that some of our bishops write or say I know that I do not belong.   Based on my service in combat and to my country for almost 28 years  and 13 years as a faithful priest I have tried.  The fact that with the exception of some of my fellow military priests I have no relationships with anyone in my church,   I was at one time banned from publishing by a former bishop.  I was forbidden to have contact with the priests of a my old diocese when I was stationed in it by the same man.  The civilian diocese that I transferred  to has had nothing to do with me for the most part since I was transferred to Virginia and since I moved here no one has bothered to say a thing to me.   None of this was because I didn’t try and the thing is I don’t care anymore.  I just plan on caring for God’s people where I’m at and building relationships with people who bother to invest in my life here. I haven’t the spiritual or emotional energy to keep trying to make something happen with people who obviously don’t care about me and haven’t for years.

This year our gathering was marked by a lot less light heartedness.  There was a lot less bravado than years past, more reflection, less intense discussion of the theological issues that have divided the Christian Church for centuries.  I know for myself I don’t have the energy to spend battling people over things that the rest of Christendom hasn’t been able to settle on.  For me I’m okay with the Canon of Scripture, the Creeds and the first 7 Ecumenical Councils, though I have a great love of the Second Vatican Council.  If people want to fight the other fights they can go ahead without me how many pins you can stick in the head of an Angel.

As far as health concerns I know that at least two of us have confirmed real live PTSD, and one with a case of TBI.  Based on the way others act I’m sure that almost all have at least a combat stress injury, and maybe a couple more have PTSD.  One young Army Chaplain has an Iraq acquired constrictive bronchiolitis, or bronchiolitis obliterans which has no cure. This young man has won two Bronze Stars and now has the lung capacity of a 70 year old man.  At best he can hope that his lungs will not worsen and only age at a normal pace, which means in 10 years he has 80 year old lungs.  This young man is a Priest who I have mentored, coached and been a friend and colleague of since before he was ordained.  He is looking at something that will kill him; it is just a matter of when.  He is going through all of his medical boards now at Fort Hood and expects that in six to eight months that he will be medically retired.  It seems to me that a hero is being kicked to the curb by the Green Machine after laying himself on the line for his country.  He was treated by many people in the Army Medical system with suspicion and made to prove that he was sick at almost every point until a high ranking medical officer found out about his case and sent him to civilian specialist for evaluation.

While I was at our conference I had a major PTSD meltdown where I basically hid in my room of a day and a half, sneaking out at night to gather with just a couple of my friends by the pool for beer and Krispy Kreme Doughnuts.  Unfortunately we could only get the store bought ones because the hot and fresh glazed go great with a good pilsner or lager.

We have several Chaplains who have won Bronze Stars for their service in combat. I was awarded the Defense Meritorious Service Medal for what I did in Iraq.  I treasure that award because it cost me something to get, I still have a lot of Iraq with me and I always will.  Some day when all is said and done I want to see some of my Iraq military friends again and visit the country as part of a journey of discovering the ancient.

Some of my friends and I have experienced the indifference of the medical and administrative parts of the DOD and VA systems, including sometimes people in our own military service.  When I returned I found my personal and professional belongings crammed into a trailer with those of my assistant because the office space was needed and we were deployed.  There are things which I considered important that are still missing and likely never to be found.  I know that it was not intended to hurt because the space was needed because of major unit re-stationing. If I was the Commanding Officer I would have probably done the same thing and since I have had command I know that mission comes first. You try to take care of people but some things fall through the crack. That is simply part of life.

On the other hand some of my friends have had experiences where they felt the cold indifference of bureaucratic systems often staffed by personnel, military, DOD Civilians or contractors who act if the returning or injured vet is there so they can have a job. To be sure there are a lot of very caring people in our organizations, but these coldly indifferent people seem to show up all too frequently. This unlike what happened at my unit is intolerable.

What touched me about my unit was once it became clear that I was a PTSD casualty they did everything to try to get me help.  My first Commodore, now Rear Admiral Frank Morneau pulled me into his office to make sure that I was alright and that I was getting the help that I needed.  The man who replaced him Commodore Tom Sitsch asked me a question that was totally legitimate.  “Where does a Chaplain go for help?”  When I went to Portsmouth Naval Medical Center I was strongly supported by both my department head and his deputy.  I wish that everyone who came back like I did had the support of both line officers and Chaplains in their immediate chain of command.  It makes all the difference in the world.

The chaplains that I have served with in Iraq are part of my brotherhood, be they from my church or not. I believe that most of us who have gone to war have by and large matured. We saw death and destruction and were exposed to danger from enemies that could strike in the most unexpected moments in the most unexpected ways.  We have experienced sometimes difficult adjustments to life back home, a knowledge that we are different and that we are even more cognizant of our own obligation to care for God’s people.  Our brotherhood has deepened as a result of war, of that I am sure.  We are truly brothers.

Peace, Steve+

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July 21, 2009 · 09:31

Revisiting the Demons of PTSD: Returning to Iraq in Virginia a Year and a Half Later

Today I am attending a conference on Caregiver Operational Stress Control.  This brought out my “demons” as I was faced with the stories of others who had been to the same places that I have been in Iraq, and experienced similar things that I experienced on my return.  This is a re-posting of something that I wrote in March at the very beginning of this blog.  At that time I had very few readers.

I am glad to be at this training today.  I needed to take a Xanax when I arrived because I don’t do well with these kind of events anymore.  The intial session and a video of Dr Heidi Kraft talking about her expereinces at Al Taqaduum where I was based out of.  I was scheduled for another meeting but I knew that I needed to be here.  So I asked my Department Head who was going to the meeting if I could stay and he allowed me to do so. God bless him.

I received a note from a new friend in another country’s military, a physician with multiple tours in Afghanistan.  He is dealing with many of the things that I discuss in this essay and had a bad day that took him back to Afghanistan.  I am sure that he is not alone as I deal with many people in my Medical Center who have similar experiences.  Yesterday I was walking down a hallway near our Operating Room and I saw a pretty good sized blood spill on the floor. I was surprised at my reaction as I kept seeing it in my mind the rest of the day and flashbacks to Iraq and the TQ Shock Surgery Trauma platoon where I was pulled into a couple of the last major mass casualty events where 10-15 Marines or soldiers came in at a time. I began to see those wounder Marines on the tables and can visibly see those Marines, their wounds, even tattoos… I hope this helps break the code of silence.  I wrote this on a particularly rough day and will repost some of those early essays as they are still very relevant.  Peace, Steve+

964Trying not to Show my Stress and Exhaustion after 2 weeks out while in between flights at Al Asad

The feeling of abandonment and aloneness, separation and disconnection run deep for those returning from unpopular wars in which the majority of the citizens take no part.  The effects are devastating.  It is estimated that at least 100,000 Vietnam veterans have taken their lives in the years after that war.  Last year the Army had its highest number of active duty suicides ever recorded, January and February of 2009 have been banner months for Army suicides.  Of course as I noted in my previous post these numbers don’t include reservists and Guardsmen who have left active duty or veterans dischaged from the service.  Neither do they include the host of service men and women who died from causes undetermined.

Many veterans attempted to return to “normal life” and family following the war. Many only to have marriages fall apart, continue or leave untreated alcohol and drug addictions acquired in country which often follow them back destroying lives, families and careers.  Most felt cast aside and abandoned by the goverment and society. Many got through and return to life with few visible effects, but the scars live on.  My dad would never talk about his experience in the city of An Loc in 1972 where he as a Navy Chief Petty Officer was among a small group of Americans operating an emergency airstrip in the city which was besieged by the North Vietnamese and Viet Cong for 80 days.  I do know that it affected him, he wasn’t the same when he returned, he was a lot more tense and had some problems initially with alcohol.  He never talked about his time there.

I have seen the effects of this in so many lives,  I remember a Vietnam vet who attempted to kill himself with a shotgun blast to the chin in Dallas during my hospital residency.  He forgot to factor in recoil and blew off his face without hitting his brain or any major arteries.  He survived…talk about having something to be depressed about later.  I have seen the tears as veterans rejected by the country during and after than war begin to seek community with their wartime brothers, men who had experienced the same trauma followed by rejection and abandonment by the people that sent them to Southeast Asia.  One only has to talk to veterans of the Ia Drang, Khe Sahn, Hue City, the Central Highlands and Mekong Delta or read their stories to know what they have gone through.  LTG Hal Moore and Joseph Galloway in We Were Soldiers Once..and Young and We are Soldiers Still have deeply penatrating and soul searching views of Vietnam as does Bing West in The Village. Bernard Fall does the same from a French perspective in Hell in a Very Small Place and Street Without Joy. Alistair Horne’s book A Savage War of Peace discusses and tells the story of many French soldiers in Algeria, who fought a war, won it militarily and had their government abandon them, bringing out a mutiny and coup atempt by French Soldiers who had fought in Indochina, were almost immediately back in action in Algeria with little thanks or notice from thier countrymen.  Abandonment is an ever present reality and “demon” for many of us who have served regardless of our nationality, French, Canadien or American who have fought in wars that have not engaged the bulk of our fellow citizens. Go to the Vietnam Veterans Memorial in Washington DC and tocuh it, trace the outline of a name, look upon the makeshift memorials and tokens of remembrance left by comrades who came home and understand the sorrow and the sacrifice.

Unfortunately we would like to think that this is something out of history that we have learned from and applied the lessons and in doing so no longer have an issue.  Unfortunately this is not the case.  There are many, depending on the study anywhere from8-20 percent of returning Iraq and Afghanistan veterans who suffer from some type of PTSD, Combat Stress reaction or other psychological malady incurred during their tour. Similar numbers are reported by the Israeli Armed Forces in from the 1973 War forward.   The British are seeing the same now as their veterans return from war.  Canadian Forces assigned to the UN command during the Rwanda genocide suffer horribly from PTSD. The mission commander, LTG Romeo Dalliare now a Senator in the Canadian Parliament is a leading spokesman for those who suffer from PTSD. His book Shake Hands with the Devil is a study of how military professionals were exposed to atrocities that they either were forbidden to stop or lacked the combat power to do so even if they wanted to.  These men and women tell their story in a video put out by Canadian Armed Forces.

105Convoy along Route Uranium

I am not going to rehash stories that I have recounted in my other posts dealing with PTSD here, but both I and many men and women that I know are scarred by the unseen wounds of this war.  We gladly recognize, and rightfully so, those who suffer physical wounds.  At the same time those who are dying inside are often ignored by their commands or if they come out are shunted into programs designed to “fix” them.  In other words make them ready for the next deployment.  I am not saying here that there is an intentional neglect of our service men and women who suffer from PTSD and other issues.  I do not think that is the case, but it is a fact of life. The military is shorthanded and stretched to the breaking point. Many Army Soldiers and US Marines have made 3-5 deployments since 2003. The Navy has sent over 50,000 sailors, not including those assigned with the Marines into “Individual Augmentation” billets in support of operations in Iraq, Afghanistan, the Horn of Africa and other fronts in this war.  The Navy personnel, as well as Air Force personnel who perform similar missions often do not have the luxury of going to war and coming home with a particular unit.  We serve often in isolation and incredibly disconnected from our commands, our service is often misunderstood.  Now there are efforts by the services and some commands to do things better to support our sailors, some of these at my own hospital.  However as an institution the military has not fully made the adjustment yet.

Many sailors feel abandoned by the country and sometimes, especially when deployed by the Navy itself.  I have debriefed hundreds of these men and women.  Almost all report anger and use terms such as being abandon, cut off and thrown away by the service and the country.  Those from all services who work in unusual joint billets such as advisers to local military and police forces in Afghanistan and Iraq feel a sense of kinship with each other, often feel a connection to the Iraqis and Afghans but are often not promoted or advanced at the same rate as others who have served in conventional forces in traditional jobs.  There was a film called Go tell the Spartans staring Burt Lancaster about Army advisers in the early stages of Vietnam.  If you see it and have been to Iraq with our advisers you can see some of the same dynamics at work.

At this point we are still engaged in Iraq and Afghanistan.  These wars divided the nation and the veterans, though better treated and appreciated by society than most of thier Vietnam counterparts have no memorial.  Words of thanks uttered by politicans and punits abound, our Vietnam era and other fellow veterans in their latter years come to the airports that we fly in and out of to say thank you, but our numbers are rising, the war rages on both in country and in our minds and lives are being lost long after soldiers have left the battlefield.

not a happy camperNot Doing Well on Leave about 5 months After my Return from Iraq

We have to do a better job of ensuring that those who sacrifice so much do not feel that they have been cut off and abandoned while they are in theater and especially when they return. When it is time we need a memorial on the Capitol Mall for those who served in these wars.  I don’t know when that will be, but I do hope to see it in my day.  Sure it’s only symbolic, but symbols can be healing too, just look at the black granite wall rising up from the ground and going back down into it, filled with the names of those who gave their lives and made the supreme sacrifice in Southeast Asia.  Simply known by most as “the Wall” it has become a place of healing and rememberance.  A place to say thank you, goodbye and amen.

Peace and blessings, Steve+

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July 16, 2009 · 22:22

Killing off the Undead Tooth of Terror

stooges dentist 2Yesterday I Might have taken these Guy’s Offer

The battle was brutal.  Yesterday the Undead Tooth of Terror held me in its grip more tightly than any time in the past several days.  Judy drove us home from West Virginia and last night as soon as we got back I was met by the on-call dentist and oral surgeon.  They bought me some relief for the night but I still didn’t sleep much having been tanked up on caffeine just to make it through the trip, the whole yin and yang of uppers and downers together.  This morning I got up and went in to work, my tooth and mouth in a bit of pain but not the 10.5 to 12.9 on the scale of 10 that I had yesterday.  The Undead Tooth of Terror may have been down but he was not yet out.

I met the dentist from last night as well as the Oral Surgeon who is the department head.  The people at the desk had no clue that I was coming in and were trying to figure things out by calling to the back when the dentist from last night came out, told them exactly what the plan was and had them check me in.  I was sent to wait and waiting 5 minutes a nurse came out the get me and ushered me into the oral surgery pavilion. Now you might wonder what difference there is in this and a normal dentist chair and treatment room.  So let me tell you.  I work at a large teaching hospital and this includes the Dental Department.  In fact the dentist who worked on me last night was a first year resident by you would not have known by how well he did and how considerate he was of any possible pain or discomfort that I might experience.  Anyway, back to the pavilion.  It is large with a number of oral surgery suites.  In the suite sits a dental chair. Not just any chair but one that looks like a first class airline seat and much more comfortable than a standard dental chair. The arms were a bit different as they had straps to hold down your arms as well as an IV line for the times they put someone to sleep when doing the surgery.  It looked like it could have been like a set up for prison lethal injection room.  I guess if we move to a Soylent Green end of life deal these would be in your neighborhood.  Since I had no need of lethal injection or for that matter being put to sleep for the procedure these meant nothing to me.  However when I have my implant they will do this.  The rest of the room has a good amount of equipment not seen in a normal dentist treatment room.

I got in the chair and they went through the checklist to make sure that I was me and want procedure was being done.  I was read the consent form which asked of potential complications of the surgery.  These were interesting, thankfully I did not expect complications although because the tooth was so weak there was a strong possibility that it could shatter and would have to be cut out.  Preliminaries completed I was given a topical anesthetic followed by about four or five shots into the right side of my mouth, which because of the local I did not feel.  Then they went to work.  I couldn’t see anything but could hear and feel, albeit without pain what they were doing.  Things didn’t take too long, maybe 20 minutes to remove the tooth if that.  It had come out in several pieces as they suspected, but thankfully the roots were straight and they didn’t have to do any real gymnastics to get it out.  I looked at the damned thing which was in several pieces on the small instrument table in front of me.  It was like looking at Dracula after you had staked him and before he turned to dust.  I amazement I asked if I could take it home with me and was told that I could not because it was now “hazardous waste.”  Hell I thought it was hazardous before it was waste.  I told the dentist and nurse that I was hoping to take it home so I could put it under the pillow for the tooth fairy.  The dentist said that he didn’t think that she would give very much for it but I said I thought that it was worth a try.  When all was said and done I was given an SIQ chit for two days.  SIQ means “sick in quarters” and is basically the Navy’s way of saying “Go home dummy.  Follow the doctor’s directions and take care of yourself.” I really only expected one day, but as I started hurting again some tonight I realized that I could not do my 24 hour on call shift tomorrow without making things much worse for me.   Following the surgery the site of the now really dead Undead Tooth of Terror was packed with gauze to soak up the blood.  I ended up changing the gauze three times before the site stopped bleeding.

When I got home I realized that I had forgotten to drop off a prescription for more Vicodin so I had to drive back and drop it off at our pharmacy. Thankfully traffic was light and I got there and back pretty quick and will get the prescription tomorrow as the line was huge and I was in no condition to wait an hour to get it as I had a couple left.  Once I was home I fell asleep for about 3 hours. I got up, had a light dinner and took it easy.  The pain started back up about 9 PM and so I took my meds and am getting ready to go to bed.  I expect that I should sleep well for the first time tonight.  The Undead Tooth of Terror is no more but I still bear the scars of my encounter with the beast from the pit of hell.  Patently the Deity Herself was with me through this and will take care of me tonight even if I don’t get a visit from the tooth fairy.

Thank you for your prayers encouragement and support.  Thanks especially to Judy who threw herself on the proverbial grenade yesterday to drive me home even though she was extremely tired and not feeling that well herself. I have a follow up next week for this procedure and my initial visit for the implant in six weeks.

Peace, Steve+

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