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.