New adventure

I will be starting a new adventure in February. I am again contracting and if you know me from my last adventure, " Me in the sandbox", you know it will be full of excitement and harrowing experiences. I am so excited to get started or maybe I'm nuts to do it again but stay tuned!

Support and prayers to my buddies in Afghanistan

I know that all my buddies in Afghanistan (and those that left for other contracts) have waited for my last blog...my thoughts from hell and a chance to say all that I couldn't while I was there for
fear of retribution and repercussions that always came my way. I'm sorry to
disappoint all of you. There is just no point to rehash the terror that Cruella
inflicted on all of us. Or that the owner allowed it. Maybe someday the bomb will
drop right in his pocketbook,(I pray not for that would probably mean death came for one of you), but  I will pray for everyone's safety and an heroes strength for you all to get through it.

It's a job in a war zone...we all knew that going in. Granted certain situations
should be avoided at all costs. The Taliban does not play by our rules. For
instance, why put females in abnormally dangerous situations. (Jealousy...hate?)
Understandably in the US we are all equal. Qualified Men & women are allowed to
do the same jobs. But it is dangerous and irresponsible for a company to place
women in a situation where they're at unparalleled risk to self...like having to
walk alone (almost a mile to go to bed) through a company that doesn't abide by
the laws of the states. Or to place them alone in a hazard situation on a base
with no other women and unarmed. I did it and survived, but barely and I am also not young,
am more outgoing than the average bear and I did have an advantage as the locals
called me sir. You don't see the military allowing anybody of any sex to walk
alone.

Many countries do not understand women as leaders or anything of substance. I have many
local friends and I do adore them, but the culture is what it is. And if we're
going to play in someone elses backyard, we need to abide by their rules. It's
something that is not addressed and there has already been too many contractor
incidents to ignore it. There is a simple solution for the medics in addressing the housing
needs, (placed so far away from the clinic as to be useful in any
emergency situations), where they may then report quickly in times of crisis. If you're going to play Army- play by the buddy rules. And insist on stations based on need in quick response areas as the military does. Note: Hazmat waste and medical should not be side by side

 Then there is the "new" thought process that the work is in an "occupational
health clinic". How ridiculous is that in the middle of a war zone? It's OK to
keep your head in the sand in the middle of a huge base with thousands of
soldiers to protect you- if they choose to, but on a tiny FOB how are the medics
prepared? Medics  must be ready for any situation that will arise due
to the unpredictability of war and the enemy. For shame to prepare them for
anything less. I realize that I was in more hazardous situations than most, (funny...move the old girl around repeatedly to the most dangerous spots), but I knew where I was and made my own preparations and handled it,(doing my own thing paid off and I kept my life). How many will be ready after going through an orientation based on health assessments and excel spreadsheets.

Medics have a job that they are trained to do. Placing young, inexperienced, untrained
workers in positions of business to make knee jerk, emotional decisions based on
favoritism is a shoddy way to run a business. And to ignore the medics that are equipped and have business experience in favor of the loyal subjects is laughable. Would real loyal subjects destroy your business? Think... The turn over in workers is unbelievable. Somebody will get seriously hurt and I am glad I am home with my nightmares and anger to rest and live another day.

Sure I miss Afghanistan and I might be back. I was offered a few jobs in other
fields that saw that I'm a damn good worker. I loved my friends and the adventure of
competing outside of my comfort zone and the absolute knowledge that I made a
someone elses life better. To be terrorized by the one's that we needed to be
on our side for our safety and to support our effort and then to let it go on is
more than manipulative and irresponsible...it looks to have been the business
plan.

Those are my thoughts and I hope to helped save a few more of my friends. My blog was not intended to bash those that employed me. It was meant to keep in touch with family and friends and give them little stories that would let them rest easier about my choice to work in the sandbox. It was difficult and most stories they will never hear about.  But, If I can make it, so can you. Keep your head up and be prepared from the enemy- expect it, depend only on you. You are in a war zone. Never forget it. Good luck and safe keeping to you all!

I  will write again when I decide on my next adventure. Thank you from the bottom of my heart to everyone all around the world that followed me and supported me.
Please keep supporting our troops!

I'm home!

I'm home! I took almost 2 days to get here due to a delay in Frankfurt and another malfunction in Charlotte, but it wasn't the seats coming unhinged like what's going on with American Airlines. I did ask the pilot, who was giving info and attempting to keep us informed, why I would want to get on a broken plane and fly across the Atlantic? I attempted to change flights, but they were not having it. They did nicely explain in detail about the potty's and how they needed water for them- something that was sadly lacking in our delay...a disgusting detail I won't soon forget. It's all part of the adventure.

I met some guys that were also contractors that demobbed (a term that we use meaning we're done and going home). I was wearing my grubby running pants and a tshirt, knowing that my voyage home would be long and I wanted the most in comfort. They came right up and asked where I was stationed. Contractors attract like a fly to flytraps..we really stick together. We were together until Charlotte, where we said our good byes at baggage claim. They were great fun!  Due to the delays we had all missed our last flights home and had tentatively planned to meet at the airport bar. A couple was there asking the guys (dressed in Army shirts) questions about living and working in Afghanistan. I stood by invisible. The guys picked up their Samsonite and as my bag came through I remarked how it was trapped in with other bags. Everyone was helpful to try to snatch my described "big bag," their assumed target a big black suitcase. I instead grabbed my huge desert sand wheeled army duffel and threw it over my shoulder. As I walked away, I heard the female part of the pair exclaim, "she's was there too..wow, she sure is strong". It cracked me up!

I'm home. I don't know where I'll work next or when I'll go again. I'm leaving it with God and I have faith that I'll know when it's time to go again. There seems to be many options, but the last year has worn me out. I left America for adventure and a job. I came back successful in mostly filling my goals. I will stay focused in completing the rest and cleaning out the cobwebs that were built by a poorly run company.I offered loyalty and experience and a work-aholic ethic and they took it and stomped on me over and over. Thankfully I'm strong and grew. And I'm home!

One more day

Delete

One more day and I can't wait to go home, but I will miss Afghanistan horribly. I have met the best people here. A support system with every department, so far from home. The experiences we shared so like each other and a wish to go home and find good paying jobs. It was with one foot in front of the other, living one day at a time...and always the same ground hog day. The only thing to break up the day was an attack- but even then we became so complacent until faced with the enemy. I prayed every single day I was here for the soldiers that went outside the wire and for all of us inside.

I will also miss the land, so harsh and wild and so beautiful with the hope of what could be. The mountains that are black from poison dropped during the Russian assault where nothing will grow for however long, still stand majestically. The others, green with growth and wildlife and no apparent care of the war. The daylight hours empty of insects- it's even too hot for them. The shepperds as they tend their herds fearful of us 'til a quick smile and friendly wave brings us together if only for a moment. Sunrises and sunsets that are only seen on postcards. Even the experience of dust storms, so outside the box for me, that lingers with every breath that I take, even as I prepare to go home.

Leatherneck is the last base that I will make home. When I first arrived, I ran into so many people that I have known from many different bases...all together again. I never had to go through the awkward "getting to know people" phase here, in fact at one point it felt like I was a "Make a Wish" kid going to Disneyland for the last time. So it was with shock and lots of tears that many have dropped by to say good-bye. We've exchanged home information and promised to always keep in touch. I was especially touched that some of my patients came by to say farewell. And last night, I was told to meet for dinner to say good-bye to one of the docs that was moving on. Tired, I was the last in, so when I heard the yell of surprise and looked for Doc Isis and then realized the surprise was on me. Of course I cried, so touched by the care and thought of my co-workers and friends who I will really miss. The party came complete with pizza, near beer and a cake...adding on to the 10lbs the I've gained while here- who cares! I've had the best time!

Reflections of the past year

Today....It's 2 days and 18 hours until I leave and I'm in a reflective mood and thinking of the past year.

At times it was so difficult. The living conditions are just bearable, the weather is extreme, it's lonely and boring (so you work 12 hrs on and 12 hours off which seems like a long time off, but add in the walking time from place to place, bathroom time, eating time and it's shaved down to 6-8 hours of sleep with laundry and other daily living chores.)  It's disease-ridden with insects, and filthy conditions, and anybody can be the taliban (they're not just outside the wire. They mix among us.)  We can be killed at any moment and some have suffered that fate.  We pray...well I do.  AND, anything can kill you and sometimes does.

But what an adventure!  I woke every day saying I can't believe I'm in Afghanistan.  The people of the land are shy and suspicious, (They've heard about us too- from the taliban), until you smile and say hi.  Then most are very friendly and welcoming.  I mostly lived in a land with mountains that were stunning every day.  Going to the local merchants was
something I always looked forward to.  Not only to buy their wares but it was a change of pace and to socialize out of the
ordinary...something not easy to do here.  The friends that I made, we became very close...we spend every waking moment
together at work, at chow, and even in the showers and slept side by side.

I will forget all the pain I suffered here and the hurt and meanness (it's all a distant memory as I speak) and move on to
the happy place of remembering all of the good times and all that I've accomplished.  Nowhere have I lived has it been so
far from my comfort zone and so close to what I thought I could never do.  I found that I could.  I will remember those I saw killed and friends that died simply doing their jobs while trying to make this a better place.  Afghanistan is
incredible and I would've liked to come back to explore and really see the land, though war and the taliban make that
impossible.

Contracting is not for everyone.  You are looked down upon by the military that sees you as making big money (so suck it up).
Others feel put out that they have to protect you,(we have no discipline), so you get the scraps; in beds, housing, food,
no vehicles, using port-a-potties, and no entertainment or use of gyms and more.  You learn to take each day as it comes
and make do with what you can order from Amazon (the reason why many go home broke).  But you accomplish so much more in your life - in self, in accomplishment that you will ever think possible, and grow in ways that you've only read about.  The adventure.  I am so grateful that I experienced it.

Surviving Afghanistan with Harry

Good grief! How did I survive a year in Afghanistan?

When I first arrived, all the lifer contractors talked about how great KBR was. The living conditions, space, running water and real bathrooms, Barbecues and days off, Vacation time taken every 4 months.  And beer, beer, beer.

I don't work there nor did I get the royal treatment.  Looking back on the year, I'm so thankful to have it done.  It's a real accomplishment.  I'm on a fairly large base and the Prince is just around the corner.  I see a bathroom twice a day that is approximately a block walk from my bed - can't say room since I'm in a dorm with 5 others. Just try to make it there in a timely fashion in the middle of a cold night...you women with children know what I mean.  For the men, I'm told that it's equivalent to the morning after a beer bash.  I just bet Harry has his own golden facility.

They say that he lives like the commoners - I think not.  For example; other that the visual of him stumbling to the pisser in the middle of the night, I can't imagine him eating grub on Asia night...take your pick of chicken, vegetable or beef curry dishes (complete with the bones), slavered over rice or noodles and some kind of fish stew.  Take a deep breath...fishy odor and curry - please gag me.  Although if you can stand the smell, (and I hope you can because it seeps into your clothes and lingers all the way to the laundry), the dishes are outstanding!  And to top it off, there is some really sweet yummy rice pudding!

Do you think the Crown Jewel has a bed like mine?  I have to be careful to plant myself exactly for sleep, because one turn will land me on the hard concrete floor.  I could not imagine what went on in that mattress prior to my arrival.  One side is smashed down and the other is elevated - making it an unwelcomed slide...and off I go.  I actually had my 3" comfort mattress pad sent here, that also slips to the floor.

Just last night, I made a midnight dash to the ladies, carefully positioning myself back into bed chattering my teeth all the way, with a fluffy fake warm mink cover, when I felt a tinkle on my backside...then waist...I chased the bugger into my bra only to pull out a Camel Spider.  Well it's dead now.  Good riddance. I did it...me!  The one who called my husband home from work to kill a spider 30 years ago.  Take that!   I bet ol' Harry doesn't do that and I'm hoping he doesn't wear a bra along with his other escapades!

But he is famous and known the world over as the rabble rouser Prince of England and he's here fighting the good fight.  The taliban didn't chase him off even when they attacked the base special for him.  He stayed and fought.  I bet we shared the initial fear from the attack and then the outrage at their effort.  There are things that are meant to be shared and he lives and dies like the rest of us.  God Save the Queen...or in this case Harry.

                                               

"They"

Sand storm!!! One of the younger guys came in with the alert. We then rush to use the bathrooms and those that partake of nicotine go for the last smoke before the storm. It hits like tiny grandules that clean your face to a ooohh so soft smoothness but leaves it red and filthy. And the sand gets in the smallest openings, (imagine beaches). We'll also be cleaning the clinic for days. And please protect your eyes, warnings- which won't help. I'll still get eye injuries for days even with that.

I actually got a patient with a bug bite today. I have no idea what kind, but the area was blistery, red, swollen and spreading rapidly. Everything can kill you here. I'll have to see him daily until I leave...too bad not to see how it resolves- if it does.

An exPat came in today without his immunization record. A big no-no here. If you don't have one, you get shot up all over again. We're used to seeing the FN's do this. (FN's= INdians, Kenyans, basically all others outside the US). Their excuse is "somebody" took it. Or my personal favorite..."THEY didn't give me one." First lets establish who "THEY" are and go from there. It floors me that people from third world countries will let anybody do anything to them without question. No wonder why they're so easily run over.

 My thought...Do you not question what "THEY" put into your body? Why would you leave behind the one thing that proves you had 7 injections? They're done in series too. So month #1 you get 7 shots, then month #2 you get 3 and so on. They add shots all of the time- it a big company money maker. SO, no shot record gets you the whole series all over again. We had Anthrax added a little ways back. No other vaccination has caused such an uproar. So, I thought to lead as a good example and I took the shot first. Who could refuse if the medic was the first to comply- right? One hour later the Anthrax vaccine was cancelled throughout all camps! "They" could not have planned it better...

Speaking of things that make me go hum...My female buddy from back home is on a base with 2/3's ANA soldiers. I don't know what brainiac thought up that to place her there. We're in the process of withdrawal and as that happens the US troops leave and the people that they've trained (ANA) take their place to protect their own country. One big problem is "they" are also the "green" that you may have heard about on tv...green on blue shootings. I was so surprised that I was not conveniently placed there as should be obvious to anyone reading my blog. "They" (in the big house) have tried so many times to get rid of me through insurgent means so many time that I've lost count. Course my buddy and I are both from Detroit - hmm?

I start the sign out process soon. Just 6 short days and I will be home.  I am so anxious to be gone.  I look around suspiciously for any way that I can be got from "they."  No need to worry about the taliban when you have conspirators breathing down your back.  I simply hold my breath until the plane takes off. And, I'll hold on to my Lord with faith that I will make it home safely.  See you soon!

                                               

7 more days......

 I'm in an office with 4 other medics. Our fearless leader sits in another office- no medic work for him  (we're peons)...ooops. spoke too soon. The big guy is here and he threw him back to guppieland....with us..someone's not too happy... We sit and type and occasionally see patients - only on occasional because we train them like monkeys to come at an appropriate time. It's a clinic like a doctors office and wait you must!  It angers them and most times they do not return...which is in keeping with our image throughout theater.

This is my first time, in one year, to not work on critical or emergency patients.  I got a pneumonia case the other day and I almost hugged him.  I was prized with giving an emergency breathing treatment- this was something that I took advantage of on the truck and not a big deal there.  Here, good times are dust sniffles called Allergic Rhinitis.  You hear the medics talk about the Antihistamines and Decongestants in a snotty manner from A to Z. It's hilarious. And I ask, when was the last time you splinted a leg using a military stretcher? - hahahah!

I got a ton of experience here due to my adventures and being a remote medic- in spite of the company. I just did an I&D on a arm full of pus to drain it.  And, I love doing stitches- I just knew that needlepoint would in handy one day. Plus working with the military was incredible and I learned so many new techniques and procedures.  I have no idea how I'll go back to the regular world.

But here I come, just 7 more days! I have many offers to go all over the world.  The big dogs here even invited me to change my position and come back.  That's what "nicest medic" in Afghanistan will get you! I appreciated the award but I am so ready to get back home!                                               

Another day in FOB Life....

FOB life is a big party, game playing, movie watching time...unfortunately not. It was like that when certain nameless managers did that job. But since most of us real medics and enjoy patient care and really do interact with the camp and military, there is no time to relax. (After EXCEL and other ridicuous tasks that we do to make the upper bitter butt kissers look better). I barely have time to sleep and let my family know I'm OK. Then the coup-de-gras... overtime was x-nayed, and actually ordered we take it off on another day or time. HAHAHAH! Major timesheet fraud. Enough to get sent to the big house for the rest of our lives. I think not..
The daily ho-hum I will not miss. Life is the same day in and day out. I meet my buddies for a smoke. We talk about our families, the days happening including politics...I'm bored telling you...and then it's bed time for another 12-13 hour shift- depending on where you work if they count the hour lunch in your work day or not. We don't have a choice because people get sick all of the time. And then...
...the Prince does his service on the base that I am at - Ha! HA! I've been on Prince watch since his arrival. He walks around totally oblivious to us all, but is super polite and says Hi! Or so I'm told...I've yet to see him. I have witnessed the fallout as the talitubbies made a play for him last night by attacking our base. It was a shock! I fell asleep reading my kindle when a huge explosion woke me. I thought, wth? this is the safe base...so I rolled over and went back to sleep. This morning I opened my door to a lock down. Which essentially means- No Working...so back to ho hum and to the book I'm reading.
I opened my eyes and saw a film that upset a religious order. 20 Muslims countries are attacking our Embassies all over the world over an internet video. Really... another excuse to target Americans...all the bad guys look for a reason to latch on to. Why they hate us instead of stabilizing their own governments is the real question. I notice that they don't burn the money that we hand out to them. We put our asses on the line for their hate of us - good grief! Fix your business and stop blaming the Americans for all of your woes!

The games people play

The games people play...I received a mystery box, no return address. It was filled with books, air packs and CD's...AND, the CD's were blank- strange. Any other place in the world this would be a welcomed gift. But in the war world, security...military... postal service- you get the picture. Let's enter into The Twight Zone...And again, I received a mystery box. This time at a base that I have never been placed at and it did have a return address...from a charitable institute in the United States, (I don't think so). The procedure is the same. WTH? The million dollar question has been. What is in the box and why am I being targeted? It's scary... There's bad guy around every corner. More games.. I was talked into signing for a second year with guilt. Quote, " I busted my ass to get them to re- sign you for a second year and now you don't want to stay?" So with my head held in shame, I re-signed...drum roll please... only to be denied the contract. WTH? Games, games and more games. And the hits just keep on coming! So back to wondering why someone would send me "potentially laced boxes" filled with random stuff... strange...and a company label placed on top?. Apparently they were sent by someone from my workplace. The placards are not readily available on the internet. Let me think?_?_? Whos tail have I stepped on recently? The last idiot supervisor that I had who pushed me down the stairs, (me-injured- boo hoo!). The guy that strolled into my boudoir in the wee hours of the morning (you know what a hot granny I am!) I chased him out with my handy bat. I don't name call,(well, not in this blog so far). But, This is a warzone after all. I had no idea that the enemy would come from within and there is still the one without...a homeland, a clue, a brain- oh, yes..the talitubbies! My choices are far reaching. "course it could've been the voice that turned me down for a secord year. Really, why bother? I'm really just little peas after all. And I'm glad I'm going. It was a tough decision to stay after the year that I had. Afghanistan is remarkable and beautiful and I had so many amazing experiences and adventures. I loved the work and the patients. The people are like an extended family that I care about so much. I really loved it here. It's really too bad that a few were allowed to play games and bully the rest. The company is losing a lot of good people. We're all in mass exodus to the promise land or another contract, which ever comes first.

Games

The games people play...I received a mystery box, no return address. It was filled with books, air packs and CD's...AND, the CD's were blank- strange. Any other place in the world this would be a welcomed gift. But in the war world, security...military... postal service- you get the picture. Let's enter into The Twight Zone

...Next episode...again, I received a mystery box. This time at a base that I have never been placed at and it did have a return address...from a charitable institute in the United States, (I don't think so). The procedure is the same. WTH? The million dollar question has been. What is in the box and why am I being targeted? It's scary... There's a bad guy around every corner.

More games.. I was talked into signing for a second year with guilt. Quote, " I busted my ass to get them to re- sign you for a second year and now you don't want to stay?" So with my head held in shame, I re-signed...drum roll please... only to be denied the contract. WTH? Games, games and more games. And the hits just keep on coming!

So back to wondering why someone would send me "potentially laced boxes" filled with random stuff... strange...and a company label placed on top?. Apparently they were sent by someone from my workplace. The placards are not readily available on the internet. Let me think?_?_? Whos tail have I stepped on recently? The last idiot supervisor that I had who pushed me down the stairs, (me-injured- boo hoo!). And he strolled into my bedroom at the ungodly hour of 6am like he owned the place and me in my jammies. (you know what a hot granny I am!). There were other infractions by him, but why go on. I complained and I was transferred. I don't call name,(well, not in this blog anyway), but does this not sound like retaliation? I'm such a bad girl! He alienated most everyone at the base and then targeted me. Seriously, I thought he was a social misfit and I tried to help him out. But, This is a warzone after all. I had no idea that the enemy would come from within. He happens to be an idiot pet of the top brass, so gone I go. I'm just little peas after all.

And glad I am. It was a tough decision to stay after the year that I had. Afghanistan is remarkable and beautiful and I had so many amazing experiences and adventures. I loved the work and the people are like an extended family that I care about so much. I really loved it here. It's really too bad that a few were allowed to play games and bully the rest. The company is losing a lot of good people. We're all in mass exodus to the promise land or another contract, which ever comes first.

Life on a big base is more like a daily life. Predictable and long...I feel like a lemming, but I have co-workers to share in this non-entity. We type and see patients in between our entries into Excel...if time permits. In the past, I cared about an expensive stethoscope- a tool for the trade. Now I only care that I have a great office chair and maybe a desk with drawers.

Our patients are different too. Gone are the guys who came in shot up, limbs missing, blood all over. Gone are the puking, tummy pains. Gone are the hacking up a lung patients. Now we have drug seekers. I never thought to see that in Afghanistan. They come in with....Ma'am, I have tooth pain that bothers me "sometimes." I ask when "sometimes" is, but get the "deer in the headlights" look. I gave a vaccination and a young chap actually asked if I would mind if he took a 500 count bottle of Motrin for his "sometime" pain. I grabbed it back and gave him directions to the nearest PX. Sometime, someone has validated this behavior by handing out pills like candy. Just like children, they cry... we pick them up...learned behavior... Well, there's a new sheriff in town...however briefly, and I will not be giving out our stash.

Speaking of drugs... we have nothing good. Come in for a kidney stone and we can mix you up some brew that will knock you on your a_s for a spell, but don't even think about coming in with a broken hip to be set. I have nothing to knock you out. Fortunately, that has only happened once and he was taken to a real Military hospital for help complete with 4 virile men to help hold him and set it. So don't bother to buddy up to the lab girl who will ask me if I have something for migraines. The answer is NO. You know the rules- sneak it from home.

Many bring lots of stuff from home. Psychiatric meds (definitely not allowed in a war zone). I couldn't get my Vitamins through Dubai. What orifice were these placed in to get through Xray? We will find out when you flip your cookies, (thank you for playing and home you go). Unfortunately, everyone brings something. I was sick with Gastroenteritis (more popularly known as Stomach flu) and was offered a pill for a cold and it would help me sleep and brighten my complexion. I replied that there was nothing wrong with my skin, thank you very much! WTH? Nice to offer the medic pills. I wonder if that requires reciprocation?

If you don't bring it from home, changes are that you may obtain it from the Bazaar. These are cute little local stores run by Afghani's set up in containers, (commonly seen on the back of semi trucks). Most of the medications are expired by 10 years and they've been rumored to poison the cartons of cigarettes, but at 4 bucks a pop- who cares! That's right...cigarettes are cheap, cheap here, so smoke 'em up! And if that won't kill you, you can also buy some hadji's pot that will send you into Cardiac Arrest. It happened just one time and the guys stopped buying it for a short time- go figure.

I love my patients, but it is approaching the end of my contract. I can hardly wait. I had decided not to return...then a higher up talked me into signing for another year- I figured WTH? I'll give it a shot. Then I was denied a second year contract by another higher up...more games- does anyone communicate? So I did the travel plans and sent them to the said boss for approval, ( certain they would sign and I would be home in a jiffy). But NO! I sit and wait, and wait and wait. How to say, I don't want to play with you anymore? I think I hear my Mommy calling me....

Good grief, if this keeps up my last blog will be a doozy!

A Memorable day

Today a memorable event marked this day. The laundry service that we must endure lost a pair of my pants. I only brought what I needed for one month and sent the rest home in anticipation of my End Of Contract. Slowly my supply is dwindling. I actually cried- at the end of my rope. They lost the last load I had brought in. I've heard that "laundry never loses any of my clothes", more times than I can count. How do I respond? Maybe, they only lose mine because I'm a "B". Or, I must have wronged them to lose my laundry. I will immediately go and apologize...wth? They came out with bags of homeless laundry waiting for a home... and who did that belong to?

Plus I'm touchy because I can't sleep.. snoring neighbor and all- Me! The one who slept through a mortar attack. That's how loud SHE snores. And she changes up her rhythm. Just when I think I can pretend it's a symphony, she goes into marching band mode, then she's doing a rap, then she's doing a backfiring bus- wth??? I can sleep through a Chinook hovering over my tent, but it gets a little tricky when she stops breathing in all this mess. (She's also suffering for a cold). I asked in the morning, (when she wakes me slamming the door returning from showering and flicks on the overhead light), if she was aware that she stops breathing in her sleep or if there was something that I could do for her such as buying her nose strips? She suggested that I switch beds across the room...as if that would help. I wonder how the people next door sleep with all that racket.

Then I was told that scrub tops are not appropriate wear after one year of wearing them. OK- I only have 3, but it makes you feel like more of a person with choices other than bright blue & fire engine red. Those really makes you a target for the bad guys. I got approval before signing my contract to wear scrubs...never knowing how much I would need the difference...and I've worn them on every FOB and now "No". Seems like I'm being targeted...It's OK for everyone else to wear blue jeans, collegiate T's, rapper shirts, anywhere fire shirts, gym shoes, crocs...go figure.

And lets not forget shower time...There are 20 girls to one shower here. I have tried many different times to find one free and without a substantial wait. I had to laugh after walking a dusty block to another shower to find....drum roll please...6 showers, but only one in service. heehaws! I feel bad for the girl that was assaulted as she used a shower in no man's land, isolated from the masses. Who would willingly go and leave themselves so isolated and exposed? Me! That's who...and my neighbor would want it too if I have to wait another day. Oh- who cares what she wants!

The cherry of my day came when I waltzed into work and found the boss from KAF here. It doesn't get any better than that. She joked that if I needed her to whop some laundry a_s...? Well at least it was constructive and more in the neighborhood of responding to my needs. Much better than the usual punishment for opening my mouth and emitting a sound.

But life on a big base can be an adventure and I have 8 bus schedules and plans for a trip around the base in my near future. Stay tuned! Happy Labor's Day...another non-memorable day here in Afghanistan.

Afghanistan- Why am I here?

Afghanistan…why am I here? This was my choice to come and work for a lot of pay…But what you don’t know is all the work I put in. Sometimes 24/7. And the tasks that I’m made to do. Tote the barge, lift that bale- you do what needs to be done, sometimes without thinking and usually
outside of my job description. Other times I squawk. Who cares…it still has to
get done. So, I do it.

Every day is Ground Hog day, one day is just like tomorrow & yesterday. Which leads me to the being here part? Contractors support the troops. We do the emptying & cleaning of the toilets, cooking meals and feeding & cleaning up the mess halls, pest control, firefighting, and laundry, simple and emergency medical care, among other things. This frees the soldier to fight and do their military thing. Without contractors, the military would need many more young and able bodied men and women to do the daily mundane tasks needed for life. Remember the draft?? Not needed thanks to contractors.

Afghanistan, why don’t we get out of the war on terror here? There are approximately 33 conflicts & wars that the United States has current involvement in. Why don’t we stop participating all together? Why don’t we live locked in and worried about when and where the next bomb will come in like many other countries do. Go back to dreamland! If we are not the power force, we will be the victims. It’s an easy concept to want peace, but realistically there are bullies who will not play by your rules- EVER!

We miss out on holidays, births, deaths, birthdays, parties, family, friends, dependable communication and medical care, new clothes, running water, bathrooms without disturbing bugs to watch out for, beaches and swimming, concerts, entertainment (No, the USO and big name entertainers really do not come here), pets, time to develop companionship and relationships, music, TV…too many things.

I am here because I love my country. I’m here to support my country, to stand by every soldier, to fight with them by taking care of them. I have seen the local people scared & afraid, cold & hungry, but I have also seen them smile as we work side by side together with a common goal. Have you? We serve without thanks or medals or glory. No one even counts contractor
death, (we are such peons), and more of us have been killed, as shown in the latest tallies, than soldiers. They shoot at us, torture us and kill us and even drag our dead bodies through town – we are not immune. No walls or monuments will be erected in our honor. Americans are here with one common goal. We love and support each other and stand for an idea- FREEDOM & LIBERTY. That’s what we do!

You may now be excused to move to France...

On Leaving

I'm gone from Lagman, the base that I have always thought of my home away from home. It was a sad departure...saying good-bye to all of my friends. Plus others came from surrounding bases to say good-bye...simply unheard of. I have met some incredible people here. But leaving, I have done many times... 16 bases in a year and that's not counting the many times I went to KAF for "counseling" or my repeat visits to some of the Fob's. I was a FOB hopper. Designated that by a supervisor's wish that I was too old to travel and it would force me to quit. Instead I loved it. Seeing Afghanistan in ways that others could only imagine.

I've actually experienced the war as sort of a soldier minus a weapon...It's all in the adventure and I thank the Lord that I survived it. Survival 101...Someone should teach that to the contractors. It's a disservice to sent them out to a war zone unaware of the many, many things to watch out for. Example: Prior to one of the ground attacks and at night fall, I witnessed the Taliban signaling to each other mountain to mountain. How was I to know it was a signal. I simply thought it was diamonds flickering in the sun set. Example 2: Be nice to people. I have seen many of our medics act rudely to the locals or fear them. Let me tell you a secret. It's harder to kill that someone that is nice to you and super easy to blow away the a_ _ holes. Plus, if you're a women, you really don't mean much to them except for sex and that's where my trustee blade came in handy.

I had bought a very nice knife. I was determined never to be unarmed and afraid again. I knew that I may never get close to use it, or that I may be shot while whittling away at my opponent, but it still gave me peace of mind. On my arrival at the big base, I was disarmed. The Brits were very nice as a tear slid down my face and said," Mame you will be very safe here." I said, yeah, yeah...that's what they all say. So I have a nice souvenir that I may recover on my way home.

Speaking of home...I have decided that I have seen way too much of Afghanistan. I love the country and the people. I have even grown to love the prayers and even have my favorites. I very much appreciate the hospitality that I've been shown by the lunches and teas that I've been invited to and attended. I love the outfit that was hand made for my grandson and I will never forget the Afghan people that I've adored and that called me sir with respect. I even loved my job, minus the management and secretarial work. But the war... I have been threatened, detained and nearly kidnapped by the ANA, been face to face with the Taliban and even spotted them (because I know everybody- wink!), suffered countless missile attacks, and 3 ground attacks- horrible events that are now a distant dream. One: that I was pulled away from for stress debriefing...a poor joke thought up by management - not funny for those who suffered through it. I can take all of the horrors of war and the unbelievably unlivable conditions, the extreme weather and choking on the dust 24/7, drinking 10 bottles of water a day and peeing all night in filthy porta potty's, bug bites, mice, rats, snakes, goats that are rigged with bombs sewn in their anus that blow up before my eyes, feeling my way in the dark and trusting my instinct when it's time to drop. Friends that are kidnapped tortured and killed, all the soldiers lost and the prayers we send to their families, no workable equipment, no office supplies, making do with cardboard for warmth because that's all I could find...It's been an incredible year!

I can do all that and more. I can not handle one more idiot, degrading, harassing decision by this company's higher ups. Or accusations of insubordination when nothing substantial comes to mind. No longer will I be recalled to KAF for "counseling" or "debriefing " to boost some idiots ego. It's beyond me why people are placed in positions without basic business knowledge or training for the position. Plus they were poor practitioners in their chosen careers, with the worse people skills imaginable. Heads up...there is kissing ass and there is genuine nice- they do not know the difference so neither works. Or to under utilize or ignore prime candidates when it would have benefited them to maximize their talents. Instead they move on and there's nothing but a poor shell left over. I consider it a supreme accomplishment that I could stay nice, function at 100%, be productive and even grow under such adverse conditions and under such a hostile workplace. But, I did it and I'm coming home!!!!

What an idiot!

Some days are lemons and some days are lemonade. Idiots are usually involved...

Today, my new partners are sneaking around each others back, manipulating and trying to use me to do their dirty work. I'm not a stupid girl. I am from the Big "D", but I'm also the friendly girl from Michigan. I knew full well what was going on, but in the interest of peace, I tried to use their manipulations to build peace. I gave each a chance to have their say about the other, then tried to work everything out to the best of my ability and as a compromise to all. Well... The female used tears in public to build her case. What an idiot! Now we all know that I can be a baby at times, but this was not one of them. I really wanted to say "man up". If you want Joe Blow to do this or that, you go talk to him and stop complaining to me! Oh, as a matter of fact, I did say that, (imagine that!), she needed to talk to the people involved and leave me out of it. I have no problem saying what's on my mind.

Joe, in the meantime snuck over to the bid guy with lies and deceit that will be laughed about for days to come. Then, he turned around and gave me a peon ass chewing and the "I'm the boss" rhetoric for what for the problems that the other idiot caused. It cracked me up that he thought it was my doing. Ha! Ha! Ha! I got the blame...for what??? oh well... It's all lemonade. Funny thing is, the big bosses don't upset me. Why would an idiot like him cause me fear? Plus, he tried to set down the law after working hours. What an idiot.

Lies, Lies, Lies...you cause your own lemons. And it's even worse when you are caught over and over again. Some people talk to you. Others talk "at" you or rather down to you. And the same "other" won't stop talking and demeaning people. Caught on camera at lunch... I had to put a stop to it. It's not nice when one puts others down in a superior fashion to belittle the other. Even worse when you're an idiot. I simply punched holes his made up fact/theory- so there. Has he never heard that contracting is a very small world. Everyone will remember what an idiot you were. This is a big problem when you are a superior of sorts. Worse when you're an idiot... and was placed in that position and without contract experience or even experience in his chosen field. Sure, make the customer upset. Go ahead and cause problems at every turn. The whole community is rip roarin' upset and hopping mad. I will sit back and watch the show, very careful to stay out of the drama now and in the future.

Plus we have a little issue of where we will all bed down for the night. Why on earth does he want to sleep with me? I'm a little apprehensive about this whole scene. I am an old lady bub! I can't say "No" loud enough. All big contract bosses were involved in his move out, yet here he sits refusing to move. Why insist on sleeping in my area. Can we all say WTH? What an idiot! I'm suppose to call somebody if he's not gone by lights out, but where does this all end? Plus, it looks bad and I can't have that. These were my Fobbets and there's never been trouble before. Everyone doesn't get along every time, but do we really need to air our dirty laundry? Some people have no class or they're idiots.

I can say that at least everybody still likes me...except the head Cruella, but that another story...let's forget it. All I can say that I am an idiot for even trying to help and keep things quiet. I thought he was an OK guy and OK girl...what did I encourage- what was I thinking? You deserve a break today? Good grief... yuk! Contract world is not always fun and games.

On the plus side...6 more weeks until end of contract!

Whiners and Rants

When you're a contractor working in a foreign country, it is impossible to come home without the tug to stay. I hate to say it, but there you fight for your life daily...we live in a war zone after all. There is so many distractions at home. Things that need your immediate care and concern as it was before you left. Once back in the sandbox, it's easier to deal with things. Throw some money at the problem and go back to the day in, day out hum drum that is work, eat, sleep and sometimes run and hide.

I'm on R&R. If I hear one more person question why we're in Afghanistan i may scream. I am a patriot, so here's my rant: I'm in a country that was left in ruins by a war 20 years ago. All the rich and educated left leaving a generation of poor and illiterate to fend for themselves. Enter the saviors called by me "the Talitubbies." They have a thing about how life should be...no schools, men rule, capital punishment and the country stays poor and enslaved all in the name of religion. America suffers a blow- 911. We all remember New York. The US does not do terrorists well, so search and destroy time and into Afghanistan.

The Taliban does not have a country. They could be anywhere and if you want to join them, there is no country to go to find them. It's like fighting a destructive ghost. But few want to join and many are pressed into service. Our withdrawal from Afghanistan effectively gives them a country from which to conquer and to fight us from. When we fought World War II, you could follow every moment on a map. I did it in school and you did too. We knew the enemy. There was a winner and a loser. There will never be that with terrorist. How can you settle a disagreement when one party will not talk. When they believe their actions are justified because a few made the rules.

So one idiot made a decision and we're leaving- OK, enough complaining about the US presence in Afghanistan. Canada bolted last year...imagine that! So many countries there, but it's all about the U.S. And it will be when we're gone too. Only this time we gave them an address. Remember that the next time a plane flies into a skyscraper.

I know this was a very simple explanation. We are the Red, White and Blue, but we like things in black and white. How about this...Do something different today...Thank a soldier for his/her service. The war is not popular, but the men still are!

Thank you!

Tonight it appears I'm in a writing mood and I just peeked at my stats, because I can from the USA. Thank you to Singapore for being my #1 readers. That was quite a surprise to me. I also need to give a shout out to Russia and the good people of Alaska, (who I spent a lot of good times with!). I'm so glad you made it back to your loved ones. Thank you for keeping in touch! I'm not sure who I know in Brazil, New Zealand, South Korea or any of the other countries but thank you for your support. Lastly, thank you to all in the rest of the US who have followed me...you're the best!

The best part of being in the sandbox is making new friends. I have had invitations from pals from all parts of the world to visit them in their homes and countries. I now need to travel and turn in those cards. And I've extended the same courtesy. Now where to go? I have choices from India, Kenya, Bosnia, Thailand, England, Italy, Alaska- OK, it's the USA, but you have to skip over Canada to get there, so that counts.

I like to take layover trips on my way home and see the world. I feel that since I'm away for so long, I should see "the fam" when I can, so I do. This trip I wanted to get home immediately to see my new guy be born and I since he was due to enter the world, I couldn't get home fast enough. I didn't do the pre-trip research and my choices were sadly limited by the Olympics.

Speaking of...has this been the most amazing games! I can't believe how much of the Olympic coverage that I have sucked up. Now I love my country and I rout for them...think Women's Volleyball (Misty & Kerrie's 3 peat!), Ashton Eaton & Trey Hardee in the Decathlon, US Soccer, Michael Phelps, the Fab Five- oops, can't use that nickname anymore...shouldn't there be a limit on the number of years a team can use a nickname? News flash...nobody cares anymore who used it way back when. But, you gotta love Bolt and the sweep by Jamaica in the event! He's a character and a gentleman and I was thrilled when he won gold! And to Bolt.. Thank you goes right back to you for running such a great race. Also, it was very considerate of you to pause in your interview for our National Anthem- Thank you. So exciting...

Passion, perseverance, faith, adventure, love, friends, family...all the things that make live exciting and worth living. I am so blessed to have it all over the world. Thank you God!

A great moment!

Baby time for Grandma

This R&R has been the best! First because of the new baby that my daughter finally released from her belly. 'Course she now has him to her boob most of the time. I mean really, how much do babies eat? I have to pry him away for some grandma time...I've had powder milk for a while, so I can't help her out there. They say he cluster eats, (which means he eats every hour or 2...then stays up there filling up for a good half hour- jeez, it makes my boobs hurt thinking of all the suckling going on). This is the reason he sleeps through the night. In the good old days we propped a bottle for that, but human milk is better for a human baby than animal milk. As cheap as I am I tend to think of all the buck-a-roofs she's saving...formula is so expensive! I saw on Amazon or EBay that some sell the stuff. They pump and freeze it and I guess, next day air it! Unbelievable! What will these kids think of next.

So I'm officially an old fart. So many new things for babies... wrappy things to make them feel cuddled always, car seats- no more tossing baby in the backseat in a carrier, and I'm told that baby does not need water for 6 months- huh? (possibly the endless time at the tit). No pacifier and I can't even get into the circumcision...good grief! Ouch! How on earth did our kids survive?

It's been too much fun. I'll never get enough time with the family before I have to leave again, so I have a happy thought that at least the little guy will be big enough to play with when I see him next. It's going to be a rough good-bye back to the sandbox!

Emilio Ringo

Not just blah, blah. Isn't he adorable!

Nutty reflections

I've been home for over a week and it's great! My reason for coming home, my new grandson made his grand entrance on August 6, 2012 weighing 8lbs. 6oz. (What a coincidence!) He is remarkable and already has a personality..he enjoys being up on my shoulder to check everything out and is so quiet, but sometimes it looks like he wants to talk- yep, he takes after me, so cute!

The first week at home, I stumbled around a bit. It was a culture shock. I flew on a plane (not American) during Ramadan and half the plane had children. My first thought was to run screaming in horror, then I thought how could I get a refund and just skip R&R. It was a 14 hour flight, good grief! So I did the next best thing and popped a couple of sleeping pills. My fears were unfounded. Those children were some of the best behaved kids that I've ever seen. In fact, I didn't hear them until breakfast time and then it was really only the babies.

The culture shock came at Dearborn's Homecoming. Some of the kids were rude, arrogant, loud and...what makes them think they can come to this country and carry on like that?WTH...parents standing by with their monsters out of control. I think maybe it's the rules of the country. They are so well behaved there. Bad children must be a capital offense.

My recent experience in Afghanistan has had the most amazing effect on my life. For example, the nut next door- or rather her nut tree droppings on my driveway doesn't faze me. They're just nuts after all. And even while she sweeps them on my yard everyday which use to drive me crazy...now I feel, who cares..they're just nuts and I clean them up. I'm fortunate to have a good healthy back and God on my side.

My good buddy that I encouraged to come to Afghanistan with me said it best, "I'd rather be poor at home than working in Afghanistan." Although I've loved my time there and I love the people and I love my job...minus all of the paperwork, I also love my family, especially the new little guy. I think he may be onto something...stay tuned.

Life is what you make it

I leave in a couple of days for home wondering if I have a job to come back to. Always the same thing and same feelings when I go home. Not just me...everyone gets this voodoo hokey icky's. This model employee says to me on his way home..."it was nice knowing you!" And I'm thinking, wth? If he's worried, I should be sweating bullets! Of course he came back, no problem.

I was told that I hadn't made the bad girl list, but I don't know. When you see a boss run for the hills, it gives you cause to wonder...now Wat is it that I gat myself into Lucy? (from, I Love LUCY). I loved that show. I can so relate. Half the time I think I'm Ricky trying to keep numskulls out of trouble and the other half I'm Lucy thinking of another hared-brained plan. But it always works out. Someone once said, Life is what you make it. Let's just say I wouldn't have missed out on Afghanistan for anything. It has been a remarkable experience. Stalked by the Taliban, Missile attacks, Rabid dogs...I would've done without the spiders, but I even found peace with that. I decided that I would think of them as daddy long legs, but uglier. I've met the most remarkable people and seen some of the most breath- taking countryside in the world. If it's over, OK. I am so glad I came on this adventure and another waits around the corner.

...or not

I'm leaving for home. I had to get a physical right after leaving from 6500 feet to sea level, then a missile attack where we had to sit in the hot bunkers for 2 hours. I then went for my EKG. I didn't fail it, but it looked very different from any that I've ever had before. Usually my blood pressure and pulse are so low that the medical people are looking for the nearest dopamine drip and climbing up on top of me to thump my chest. No romance...it's to speed up my heart. This never happens when I have a "hot" male attendant. Usually it's someone from the Geritol crowd with bad breath. So, that I'm heartless "B" must be a true statement...or not.

I can say that in days gone past it was true. I remember when I once made my boss shake. He was from that day forward forever to be known as Chihuahua boy. Now that I'm know as the nice girl, I do feel bad about that and will be spending the remainder of my days making up for my bad behavior...or not.

I can make it up by being the nicest person that I can be. I have totally alienated the higher ups by my advocacy for my patients. They all want you to be nice to the client, but not mouthy to the boss (I'm still working on that one). Absolutely advocate for the patient unless it goes against their will. Let me clue you in to a secret not publicly known. Nice people do not get sued. I don't know if the big boss knows this cause he is one of the nicest people that I have ever met...but they don't. There was a study that I read 10 years ago and passed around at the Tree Hospital that I worked at that showed smarts had no value with the perspective of how patients rated you (or you sue-ability rating- my term). What mattered the most was their bedside manner. So think about that while you sit in the doctor office hour after hour until they get around to you. And check out that Harvard degree and notice that it never says if they graduated first or last, or if they were the party boy or sulked around and wore girls pantie's on their faces or dumb as a button or top of the class. They could be truly competent... or not.

Think about that in everyone you see. I chose nice, ( not only because I have genius jeans..haha I know it's genes. Just wanted to see if you were paying attention.) But also I see no value in being mean and degrading others. It's parochial and just another way for small egos & brains to tower over others... or not. I give them a laugh and you can too!

Random thoughts

I heard that Michigan got a bit of a hot blast that won't quit...110 degrees the highest recorded temperature there. Let's put out hands together and pray for comfort. While we're talking to the big guy, let's give thanks for the weather in the sandbox. It finally cooled off today. It was 105 degrees and a nice breeze. Good grief, I can't wait to take a dip in something that is not 2 percent chlorine.

Speaking of hot, tempers flare and people are vicious when it's hot. It's a desert out here. Fear, weather, isolation, bugs, snakes, rabid dogs and the bad guys always breathing down our necks. I had a friend, good guy (not from the US), that was kidnapped, tortured and killed. He taught me that all locals are not bad...he was a real sweetheart. He helped me to understand the peaceful lifestyle that they live. My heart will always hold a special place for him. You grieve and try to make sense of it all, but it was his own people. He played by humanity rules not by the Talibans. A really special man...a real tragedy.

Then there's a new guy in town, the verdict is still out on him. I've been a Medic for 16 years, the new boss has been one for 2 years. It's a little like watching a toddler walk for the first time. I get the gooey's when he works on a patient... and then he opens his mouth. He believes himself to be more intellgent then all the peons in his kingdom. I have to shake my head at some of his random thoughts that he actually tries out on patients and doctors alike.- like a child trying out language for the first time. I hold that sacred, plus anything that will crack me up here is worth it. However, this guy is very articulate and a military doctor that he tried to set down the rules to did not take too kindly to being told how the treatment system works here. Eventhough I promised not to bring him to the aid station again, I think the lashings may trickle down to me.

Let me hold me breath, because...Praise God it's R&R time! I only have to watch the dirty glances his way for a few days more. He's such a nice chap too and funny. How can one person totally alienate and piss off a whole camp in one week? I'd love to help him out, but I'm going home! Sorry pal! Put a muzzle on it and...I don't care! My 2nd grandson will make his grand entrance (I hope and pray), while I am home. I'm going to entice the little fellow with grandma love and try to get him to pop early. If that doesn't work, I can always barter or badger the doctor. Yes, it's funtime very soon!

Home again!

I'm back at my home base! Yeah!!!! Just in time to find out that the short list of people living here was not a mistake. Everyone is leaving- WTH? Gone are so many pals that I spent all of my time with. But the contract world is a small place to be. One fellow once said, I'll see you on the next contract. I laughed, but that's how it is.

I was so excited to come back after being on the road for so long. I filled in at bases for people that go on their vacations. I'm always alone and in a new place. I love it. So who filled in for me while I was away? The answer is many, many people. And 2 quit out of those...going back home missing their lives, their families

.So I thought to myself...do I miss my family any less? The answer is NO. I really miss everyone, but I need to work. Everyone has someone they miss. We all want to go home, but work is what we must do.

It's been 100 degrees since I've been back and I left 120...big difference. My skin has never been darker or my hair whiter. If Miss Clairol comes anywhere near my hair, I'm afraid I'll have to smack her down! I live in frizz city these days and very light hair.

So I look a bit different, but home is where I'd like to be too. It's R&R time once again, so expect me at Dearborn's Homecoming- YEAH!!! expect to see me at the LC Taylor Reunion- YES!!! and expect me at my own home and drop by. I'd love to see you all August 1st and for 10 days after. I'm counting down!!! I'm coming home....

Good grief!

I left the carefree comfort base...we did have a little blip for a few days and it was hot- 120 degrees, but with good friends all around who cares. They also had these big terrifying snakes. I wore my combat boots everywhere...even to the showers and back. I believe one snapped at my boot and I have a tear to prove it. There was one hanging around the medic tent, so with appropriate terror, I was especially careful to look inside and out for them. I never saw it- thank God for that too (I mean besides keeping me safe). So the real medic of that base announces that a Saw Scale Viper was found right outside the medic tent today. These snakes are very deadly and we do not carry anti-venom in our back pockets. I'm betting that he thought, finally, the "B" is gone and promptly left his nesting spot and ....died! Oh good grief! Poor thing probably starved himself. What's that saying- that they're more afraid of humans than...oh never mind. I never believed that anyways.

Another thing that happened at that base was the blip of terror. Later the next day, one of the guys was laughing at my rock weapons. Hey, we do what we can! He remarked of what a hellion that I am. HUH? Who me? He stated that if the Taliban did capture me, it would take less than an hour for them to offer money to take me back saying, "she won't stop talking".Really now! I know someone that talks more than me. 'Course they're not in my sandbox... good grief!

Yes, I'm missing the base and my buddy's. Again I can say thanks to Facebook. We can talk and talk. Again with the talking thing- good grief!

So I'm back at home base and what do I find? Camel spiders. The things are as big as your palm and walk on their hind legs...visual here. They chase you down supposedly to stay cool in your shadow. Don't you believe it. If that was true why do they move their fangs while chasing you down? I think I heard one whisper to another about payback. They are out to get me! Good grief!

Food

Food...I love it, obviously. I have made it a mission to try and like as much of it as possible and it shows in my waistline. I eat from every cuisine and every nationality- Yum... most of the time!

I really wanted to be a good sport when we first went on MRE (Meals Ready to Eat) here in the sandbox. I fiqured...at least I'm not eating bugs. Though, not the all bugs are bad. I had a Tararula (jerky like, but with hair that sticks in between your teeth) in Cambodia. And crunchie cinnamon coated beetles- really good once you get pass the beetlejuice that squishes in your mouth at first bite. I've had a sushi Rattle Snake Burrito (really slimy with a subtle taste of chicken), really gamey beef stew that I know was dog, but what the heck...I swallowed it- people are starving all over the world, Or so my dad used to say.

I was working out and doing great on my plan until MRE's. I even got off a flight 3 weeks ago and my pants nearly fell off, so I proudly bought a belt...success and proud accomplishment in every step of my purchase...that was, until MRE's. They are packaged to give a young, healthy soldier nourishment for their trek through any mission using about 2000 calories or more per meal. Being a somewhat older broad, I would take one of these healthy meals and divide it into 3 meals. They consist of a entree, sides, always protein- think chocolate peanut butter packs and some concentrated bread or crackers that blow up in your tummy giving you the feeling of fullness. Let us not forget dessert, snacks and sugary drink mixes galore in every meal. There are serious trades going on for the poptarts, combos, cheese-its & M&M's. There's even trades for creamer...you get tons of instant coffee. Trades for jalepeno nuts, sugar, hot sauce- can you imagine. One lady tried to talk me out giving away a cheese package to a guy sitting at the adjoining desk. She said that it would be worth 2-4 snacks or a load of creamer. What the heck, share and share alike!

So it was with singing in my heart when I had my first kitchen made, (really barbecued) hot meal of Hamburgers and Hot Dogs- that's it. I skarved those baby's down like I hadn't eaten in days. It's amazing what food taste like when you are forced into a cuisine. Not that MRE's are bad. They're not and they come with their own heating package. The choices are almost unlimited, so what exactly was my problem. Did I really want to go back to salad's for lunch and "just a little" as I would say to the cooks. Hell no! I'm living everyday and eating every meal as if it is my last...while enjoying every bite and every pound.

Attack on the FOB

To my medic pals and all my friends and family,

I write about my experiences on my blog site, "Me in the Sandbox". They're funny little stories to tell my family and friends about living in Afghanistan. Today is not one of those days.

Here in the sandbox we all sit around and complain about being the paperwork Paramedics, but we live in a warzone. It's so easy to get complacent when documentation is more important then the activity and people around us. But the reality is we live in a warzone.

I had tried to prepare for the day of attack that I knew was coming. The Taliban has grown up and they're not the stupid farmers of yesterday. They have spent centuries persevering and surviving. As a FOB hopper, I had made it my mission to prepare for the day. With the blessing of the military (and sometimes their expertease) to prepare in event of an attack. On that fateful day, the military will be too busy fighting to save our ass. It's up to us to support them in any way that we can and take care of ourselves.

So on that day, we were awoken with an explosion and "Missile Attack". I was the only one in the bunker with my PPE on. The next explosion we got the truth...Ground Attack. There was 33 people in my bunker scared, crying, screaming. I held a shaking, crying man for about an hour- it was dark, I never saw his face. Plus there is nothing that points out your position like the chatter of nervous people, but stop them you must.

Care doesn't stop because your scared. In my case, I (along with my team) thought it was a drill for some hours until the buildings started burning. The first right thing I did was gather my support team in the bunker. No use being afraid alone (special thanks to my friends, and also Laura & Hayden) and since medics attract Firemen, Hazmat, Basics from back home and former military corpsman- you have a readymade team.There was explosions from grenades, missiles, constant gunfire that we watched flying overhead for hours. No vehicles riding around and almost non-existent yells from the fighters. But at one point, we did hear the Taliban talking as they went by our compound. I believe they were arguing the merits of coming through and decided against it. Most of the emergency team was in position to fight and die, unarmed as we were.

It was chilly when we went into the bunkers and it warmed quickly as the sun rose and the fires blazed on. The temperatures got to more than 100 degrees and people were risking their lives to cool off. My team made countless trips to the medic tent for cold water. At one point I was asked if people could return to their tents. It was a ground attack and safer locked in was their argument. Be prepared to answer all questions. You are the Doctor, The leader, the Mom and the Pop, the Counselor, the Friend... you do not break down. Keep your cool and your wits about you. My answer (we are all adults after all), was to direct them to stay out of sight and go slowly and quietly to their tents and once there to stay quiet and not jeapordized our safety. Only a handful left.

I can't give specifics of the wounded or the time or the place...there's rules you know- wink!

The after care was overwhelming. I had not slept for 24 hours when I finally when to bed. I was awakened soon after by a hysterical women who had seen an intruded, (Taliban) near the ladies room. I normally have the room in the medics tent, but I slept in the women tent expecting terror and fear from the Fobbetts for the days to come. I'm not a hero and I have no gun, so I called in the military. They searched and stood guard and remained on duty- our heroes. I was asked if the women was reliable. Probably not, but what if I'm wrong. It's happened before, ( see paragraph 5).

We're on MRE's. And life has changed. Too many of the Contractor saw things that would give most people nightmare's. They came face to face with the Taliban and witnessed horrors of the ones who came prepared to die for thir cause. We all get relaxed... but we are in a war zone.

The Taliban watches us to this day and we know it. We stay in after dark. We are on the buddy plan. We keep our PPE's close and we are are always vigilant.

You must always balance your life. Care for all and take a minute. Rest, and call your buddies, call other medics, call the docs, eat, drink water and always care for yourself first. I worked non-stop sleeping little for the first days and I probably talked to every member of the FOB, (many I checked on frequently). I cared for their battle wounds, scrapes, cuts, bug bites and listened to their experiences. I'm thankful the snakes did not take the Talibans side and stayed out of site. No one saw one nor was bitten. They told me their stories, their fears and always wanted reassurance that they were safe. How could I give that? I simply listened and then told of the plans I knew and of the heroes they were for surviving. I also reminded them that the Taliban, even gone, knew that we would be scared for many days to come. It is our job to support the FOB, fight and not let them win.

Not one person quit and went home and we are eating 2 hot meals a day. The FOB is rebuiding quickly. The people are amazing... heroes all.

I'm nuts?

Life is full of lemons and I'm sucking some big ones right now. I'm riding in the back seat- once again. I wished I knew what it is that I do that makes the big guys so irate. I seem to have the BIG target on my forehead all of the time. I was told to go to Kandahar to rest after a big event that happened on the base that I was visiting. My little boss from nowhere land would take my place while I was evaluated for the nut case that I am.

Let's back up for a minute...I handled myself well...check. I was given numerous atta boys....check. I even got a certificate that stated I did a good job...check. None of my people were injured or killed...check, check. So what is the problem? This, my friends and EMS pals, is the problem. Some desk sitting, boss licking, brown nosing medic decided that he missed out on some good ol' adrenalin rushing fun and I was in the trenches. He was sick of being the paperwork bitch and saw an opportunity to push aside a girl and see some "good stuff" himself. Plus his buddy gave him an excuse to get rid of me (Post Traumatic Stress Syndrome), and away they went...Off to save the day... but first to get me outta the way. So away I go and in comes the ball droppers to save the day. WTH?

Stress debriefing is what I was to get- a medical term meaning crisis management. They do a series of checks within a week to make sure your cookies are intact. It goes like this:
Step 1; Defusing: You're given a lifeline in the form of a phone number. They also talk to you before "beddie bye time" to make sure you are ok... in my case this step was skipped.
Step 2; Debriefing; Within 72 hours- You're given a chance to rest and "talk out" your experience. If you need additional coping mechanism, they are suggested by a mental health professional. I spoke to a MH worker alright... as he stepped on my carcass as I was ordered back to the big house. Atlast he was seeing to the needs of the FOB, about time. I guess I'll rest when I get home because the big base is busy and short staffed as usual and my working skills were needed. So, this step was skipped too.
Step 3; Follow up. A check up following debriefing and it happens 7 days later....oh I guess I don't get this either since step 1 & 2 were skipped.

I have given no reason to think that my coping skills flew out my ears or that life is bleak due to a little drama. I get no rest and I've talked to all, even most of the staff, about my experience. I've never been better! What makes anyone, especially one that does not work the road (so to speak) or deal with patient's think they have the right to judge me. Actually, I think you must be a little nuts to purposely put yourself in a situation after the fact. What is there to clean up. It's done.

I read a statistic that in Detroit the murder rate is in the top 10. That means I am more likely to get killed at home than here. However, stabbings in the back can happen anywhere... Even here in the sandbox.

In Memorium to Those Who Gave Their Life

Never to be forgotten!

Soldiers don't cry

Soldiers don't cry. Such a sad day here on the FOB. We gathered today to celebrate the life of and say good bye to a great man and friend, a fearless soldier, an outstanding leader, father of four. The tragedy of war. These are the times that really remind me that I'm in a war zone and people die...even people that I know.

The memorial was rehearsed and planned for 50 people. Silly Commanders! These are the good ol' USA boys & girls. We do nothing alone. We support each other and the outsiders look in and wonder why we cry and race to the rescue for total strangers. They don't understand that as an American you are in a caring, special family composed of all nationalities and sexes. Your hurt is my hurt. Your pain is my pain. We are there!

So most of the camp attended and contractors too... which brings me to another point- Soldiers really don't cry. I was bawling my eyes out, (which is typical for me), but so were the guns for hire who have seen it all. I saw a tear escape from a kid from the deceased man's battalion and I passed him a napkin. He simply shook it off and straightened up. It made me proud in a strange way. Do I really want some guy who is an emotional wreck guarding me at night. Or can I cut them a little slack and realize that their hurt is my hurt, their pain is my pain. I am a team player so, ok....Soldiers don't cry, but I do. I'll cry for you.

Say a little prayer for us today. For the family of the guy who gave his life unselfishly so that others may have a better life and be free from tyranny. For all who serve and protect our great nation. And for the people who live in this land who face hardship and fight everyday just to live their lives free.

On the road again...

Since I've been on the road for awhile...I even missed my birthday back at my home FOB. I hate to mention that I did not have a chance to go there as planned. I understand that I have boxes waiting for me that would stack to 8 feet tall. If you sent one- I haven't acknowledge it because I still don't know who sent a package. Thank you, I still appreciate the thoughtfulness! If it's chocolate, I will still cherish it and eat it melted. You learn to adapt and overcome, plus for Pete's sake- it's chocolate!

It's a huge inconvenience for me that I couldn't make the quick stop and reload. My male boss does not understand that women need stuff. Thank you God for providing me with Amazon. It really made me bite back some harsh words knowing that I was ordering the very things that I had stored back at my home FOB. Plus, nothing is locked up. My partner, so far, is a guy and not interested in my pantie liners or extra toothbrush. That won't last for long. I am expecting a new partner because things have to change on a daily basis here. Gone is Jay (who missed the wife and kiddles) and Sergio is on his way back home...so it's boo hoo for me. Break in another partner- when I get there.

I only brought a few things with me, because we had a self serve washer and I didn't care if I wore the same things over and over as long as I didn't have to drag a heavy suitcase around. I have a great friend in my buddy Viktoria! She tossed me some clothes for the gym and for an event...she is the best! I paid her back with much need toiletries. I can't think of life without her. She's been the best friend!

SO it's a little sad here at Lake FOB. I have no idea when I will catch up on sleep. Plus my 5 days of clothes take 3 days to wash at the laundry. Tomorrow will have to be extra deodorant day as I am out of clothes. One lucky thing is that since I move around so much, I had a ready made friend's circle here. And, I am taking a class that will make me a bit more marketable- YEAH! So that's how it goes... on the road...here in the sandbox.

Another Day, Another FOB

It's crazy at The FOB I'm at now. Busy, busy, busy! Every place I move to has it's challenges...different climates, new people, problems, paperwork, critters. Oh yeah! This one has snakes and I mean the BIG ones. WTH???

I thought the cute little frogs that hopped over from the nearby unbelievably beautiful lake were charming and I thought to myself, why did they not include that lake in the FOB planning to incorporate a little fun time! Why leave it sit outside where we can barely view it. Why not let us have a tiny bit of swim time- it's really big enough for some major jet ski's. But like everything else in the sandbox it's full of danger. This one comes in the form of snakes...all of them bite...all of them venomous. And they- the tiny frogs that hop on over, probably looking for sanctuary, but instead entice the snakes to our camp- Great!

I had a little girl time talk with the 15 girls that live here with me...did I mention that there is almost 20 guys to every girl here (not counting the other side of the street). I was asked to speak on hygiene and dress code since most walk to the showers in their flip flops and towels- just like back home. The men congregate around the walkway to the showers, plus the sandal biz with a camp full of snakes- that is a sign saying bite me!

I wasn't too worried until they did not catch the 2 footer by my tent who has probably set up housekeeping right under my sleeping quarters. So, I agreed to speak, but I would not say anything about the rules. I did say that I was sorry that anti-venom was not available on this FOB and we talked about how Manolo's were cute, even if you only had one foot.

Bugs, scorpions and the heat...100 degrees at 8 am- really? I'm telling you, I'm in hell. But the people here are so nice and they make the best of it. You got to wonder at the resilience of our species...here in the sandbox.

I am an island

Today I was sitting around with the guys and they were telling some not so PC jokes. I was laughing and one of the guys remarked that it's time for me to go. The place is rubbing off on me. Indeed it is. This was my favorite FOB to be at, but times change and people are constantly moved around. A fact I will never understand.

Check out this analogy, I have a sewing machine. I push down on the foot pedal which directs the needle and bobbin to work in harmony. The thread comes out in tiny increments threading through the material as perfect stitches. The wheel turns round and round to coordiate the parts. It is a well oiled machine and made perfectly for the job. Suppose I step softly on the pedal with tiny baby feet, the machine would not do quite a splended job- if it worked at all. If I jammed on the pedal all parts would work in a jerky fashion with my stitches toppling each other- some hiding while others are on the radar. You keep the person who does the best job with the highest skill level and who can do it with the least amount of effort. Make sense?

A leader should be that. Someone who others go to, is approachable, that they can look up to. A leader should have a voice and frequently use it, but not shout or demean. They should be visible- you can't look to the one you can't see. They make decisions in a calm, concise manner- so as not to panick the masses. They implement methods that are tried and true. They screw up too, but they alone take the blame thereby establishing trust. Lastly, they are resilent, optimistic and empathtic. That's the person I want on my side, the one to follow. Someone who has my back.

Not the one that leaves me stranded on an island with Hitler, Napolean and Baron Munchhausen rolled up in one. That was a recent challenge for me. As medics, many look to us. We're the docs they see. The one to fix all things. We perservere and compete with the challenge. We can muddle on and muddle through. Many things we can't change, but can make it better simply by listening. No matter the problem, we're here to fix the hurt. Even if the hurt is on us.

So the place is rubbing off on me. Gone are the days of putting racist in their place- I'm now a dirty, stupid black, and by golly I have to take it. (SO what I'm Mexican- same thing). I can get pushed around and not push back. Yelled at in front of a early morning meeting with disparing remarks and not defend myself. (Let's never forget how well I do mornings...I'm silly happy). And don't forget the cardinal rule that you follow all rules but HIPPA- I don't think so! Some things I refuse to change and patients do need protection.

So I leave to go back to nice and happy Maria and another place... where I am a rock. I am an island... always on my own.