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.
Sunday, July 8, 2012
Friday, July 6, 2012
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 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.
Monday, June 25, 2012
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.
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.
Sunday, June 17, 2012
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.
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.
Tuesday, June 12, 2012
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.
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 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.
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