The honeymoon is over

1:39 in the morning shines with a faint glow on my clock. Three hours until time to rise and face another day in Iraq. Somehow I lack the motivation to simply shut off my computer and sleep. I thought that I would be one of the lucky few that would escape the war injury of insomnia, but it appears that after the past few weeks of the same pattern of lying in my bed and staring at the walls for a few hours each night that I have been blessed with the diagnosis. It isn’t just sleeping that is proving difficult. It seems that as of late the only thing that I have the energy for is breathing. I can say with absolute certainty that the honeymoon phase of the deployment is over. I have traveled all the square meters that I am allowed to roam here, and the once exciting and new is now the mundane. I need to pick up a new hobby or two, but for this week I am content to just mope a bit. I think I am entitled for at least a few days to be bummed, especially given the holiday season.

My current activity in the evenings is watching bootleg copies of movies and TV shows. After finishing watching every single episode of Sex and the City, I have moved on to MASH. I figured that I could entertain myself for weeks watching 11 DVDs worth of episodes for only $25. The end result isn’t the same as watching Sarah Jessica Parker though. With Sex and the City I could mentally check out for a bit and laugh a little. With MASH, I seem to be finding similarity after similarity. At times the show can bring me to tears when I should be laughing. The food, the boredom, the constant surrounds of injury and illness is all too familiar to me. Perhaps it just hits to close to home, no pun intended. With each mortar round explosion on my DVD I cringe in the same way I do when I hear an explosion near us here at the hospital. Why do I continue this self torture? I keep pressing onward, watching another episode each night. Perhaps it is the ending that I crave- I know that eventually the characters get their return trip home, and I too will one day get on a plane bound back to the US. In the meantime their war and mine keep on sending us wounded.

My newest music craving is Ingrid Michaelson. Her sweet voice and deep meaning songs are my current favorite with the IPOD. Her song Keep Breathing could be labeled my theme song- or perhaps our theme song. All of us here are in this together, even though we don’t talk about it much. Last night at Christmas dinner we each spoke of what foods we missed, but didn’t dare mention who we missed or what activities we missed. Food is a benign topic, but people and actions are dangerous topics that lead to sadness. So we pretend that we are remotely happy, that this place doesn’t suck, and that everything is fine. Then again, I guess it is fine- because as I type this we are all still alive. Somehow that has to be enough.

I really thought that I would write more than I am. Perhaps it is the restrictions on posting that prevent me. I believe that the real reasons is that it is easier to sit in silence than process the words in my head that make me relive the days events and thoughts. I can’t talk about any of the violence- should my blog get attention from the wrong people, and I wouldn’t want to scare my family. I can’t talk about fear. Admittance would be difficult, and once again falls into the category of things the enemy doesn’t need to read. Faking the daily perky report wasn’t something that I could swallow, so the writing is much less than originally anticipated. I still have to post though- and much of the fear, stress, and frustration is finding it’s way through to the words. I think the sooner I accept that war isn’t pretty on any level whatsoever, the better. I can entertain myself with the notion of cultural learning for only so long before the reality seeps through. I think that the process has begun, especially with this evening’s post.

My eyelids have finally grown heavy, and the light from my small lamp is no longer sufficient to keep the words from blurring on my screen. Goodnight world, may God keep us and bless us all, and may we all wake in the morning. A day in Iraq is better than no day at all.

Merry Christmas!

Children

The thought provoking question of the day: if you were to play with a 6 year old little girl, what would you do? Draw a picture? Play with dolls? Toss a ball? Now imagine that the little girl has no arms, because she was in a vehicle that was hit by explosives. Now what would you do with her? How do you play?
While the above is incredibly sad on it’s own, an even sadder situation is how so many Iraqi children no longer attend school because of the violence. When insurgents bombed several of the schools, families halted the children’s attendance. With the war progressing onward for several years, the effect of the lack of education on part of Iraq’s youth is starting to be apparent. Young teen boys might be the male head of the family, and not be able to read or write. Only time will tell how the current generation of children will be as adults when their entire childhood is full of violence, hatred, and blood.

Date at the dining hall

I was blessed with a visit today from my wonderful boyfriend, Jim. While it was only for a very short time, and I was working most of the day, it was still absolutely great to see him. We snuck in a photo while he was here.

This nagging cough

I am so tired. Yes, tired from work. Tired of the bad food. Tired of Baghdad. Mainly though, I am tired of coughing, and coughing, and coughing. My sinus infection from over two weeks ago turned into a complete upper respiratory infection, and then into some nasty bronchitis like I have never had before. The annoying little viral problem has now been going on for over 15 days, and I am soooo tired of it. My chest hurts, my throat hurts, and I am sure that my roommates ears hurt from the persistent every minute cough that has been plaguing me. Two antibiotics, an inhaler, decongestant, cough suppressant and mucus expectorant and I am still having this issue with no improvement. Ugh. I know that there is a lot of nasty, nasty things in the air, water, and covering everything here- but this is insane. I can’t handle this for 13.5 more months. Please Lord, would you just heal me already?

Gardening in a bowl

After a relaxing day off work and spent doing absolutely nothing more than watching DVDs and sleeping, I decided to take on the challenge of playing with one of my Christmas gifts. My wonderful boyfriend sent me a tulip growing kit- complete with pot, soil, gravel, and 5 tulip bulbs. When I think back to this past summer and how I thought that things would be here, I can say with 100% certainty that the idea of gardening never crossed my mind. However, this evening, gardening was exactly what I was doing. Of course I had to improvise with a few things. The warm water needed for the soil/compost disk came from a bottle and was heated in my hot pot. After soaking the soil disk in the hot water, I had the fun joy of “fluffing” the mixture with a plastic fork borrowed from the dining hall. After spreading out the dirt on some old bubble wrap, I carefully placed the tulip bulbs in the pot. I used the fork to get the dirt back in the pot and around the bulbs. According to the directions from ‘Tulip World’, the supplier of the gift, the bulbs need 10 weeks somewhere cool and dark. The five very-far-from-home bulbs are now happy and planted in their pot, placed in a box, and sitting on the patio of my apartment room. Since random boxes tend to make people nervous around here, I used a sharpie marker to write on the top: “ I am flower bulbs that need to be kept cool and dark as I grow. If you have any questions, please contact LT H. in room 204C”. I now have to wait until March 1st and then I can bring them inside to continue to grow. I can’t wait to see if I can actually grow tulips in Iraq. Updates to come!

The many meanings of five

The time is now 5 pm- which in Baghdad means time for another call to prayer. There are two Mosques near our vicinity, and the eerie yet beautiful echoes of prayer song can heard throughout our living quarters. The flowing words can practically be felt as the sounds reverberate throughout the concrete infrastructure surrounding our world. I wonder what is being sung, but my Arabic, though improving, is not nearly at the level in which I can understand the echoes of words that reach our courtyard.

Five o’clock also brings another meaning to my day- it means that I have just finished a cup of the delicious Chai tea. As a lover of strong drinks and food with an abundance of flavor, I am growing quite fond of the Iraqi diet. Chai tea is an experience in itself with the intensely strong taste combined with a generous helping of sugar and milk. One of our Iraqi interpreters makes a carafe of Chai daily and then makes the rounds to fill our eager cups.

5 pm signals the end of the day, the setting of the sun, and the transformation of the bleak Arab sky into shades of color that can only be appreciated in person. Many of us try and step out onto the roof of the hospital in anticipation for the setting of the sun and to take in the beautiful shades of color as day turns into night. The first color is the change of the sun from golden yellow to a tangerine orange that sizzles on the horizon. As the ball of fire dips down and touches the earth, shades of pink emerge and stretch across the sky. Next follow the streaks of purples that embrace each cloud. The grand finale is the blue that has a brightness and depth that can only be compared to the deep Caribbean ocean. Blue fades into black and the stars emerge, and the Arab world waits for the next dawning of the sun.

One heart at a time

Take a mental journey with me for a moment. Imagine for a minute that you are an Iraqi boy, age 17 or so. You live in rural Iraq with your family, and each and every day you tend your small flock of sheep. You have never left your family, your rural area, or your sheep. You have never spoke with an American, seen the big city of Baghdad, or received medical care. Now imagine that one day, while you were out with your sheep, you and your flock were hit with gunfire, and the next thing you know you find yourself in a hospital bed surrounded by people who are speaking a language you don’t understand. Tubes and IV lines surround you, yet you don’t know what these things are. This was the situation for one of my patients after being brought to our hospital by a convoy.

He hated me. I needed to turn him to change his blood soaked dressings, and didn’t want to give him any more Morphine because of his respiratory status. The bandage covering his gunshot wound would suck in every time he would take a breath, and he tried to push away my hands every time I touched him. In his drug induced confusion he would click his tongue at me in his Arab show of disapproval. I made him roll on his side so I could clean up his blood tinged vomit, and he shot me a look of complete disgust. I drove on with my work as quickly as I could.

Later on I came back to check my patient. He was finally resting comfortably and medically stable. My next task I decided was to get him cleaned up a bit as he was still covered in dried blood and dirt. As I stood at his bedside with a tub of warm, soapy water and washed his hands, the look on his face changed from one of disgust to one of acceptance. As the blood was washes away, so was his distrust. Perhaps I was not as evil as he had originally thought. I also took a few extra minutes to peel an orange for him, and finally- there is was- eye contact that didn’t contain hatred.

The next morning the young Sheppard was to be transferred to another medical facility. As I assisted to load him up on the stretcher, he took my hand in his, and placed his other hand over his heart in the Arab sign of ‘thank you’. Time stood still for a second. There it was- a moment where we were not the evil Americans trying to destroy Iraq. The bad decisions of our leadership were light years away from us. Perhaps it means nothing to those of you back home in the US, but to us, this was a victory in our mission. This is why we are here, why we serve, and why I can get out of bed every day and don’t mind caring for the Iraqis. That one moment of thanks keeps me moving forward on to the next patient. He is only one heart out of many yet to go, yet not any less important.

Decorating for Christmas

Yesterday was pretty blah, but today we decided to put up the Christmas decorations on my ward. After digging through the MILVAN full of dusty old boxes, we found a sad little tree that Charlie Brown would have loved, old ornaments from years past, and a few miscellaneous things such as a stuffed monkey that sings Christmas carols. I had a relatively light patient load in the morning, so I helped set up and decorate the tree. The first step was to undo last years tree (they had packed it away with all the decorations still on it), straighten out all the smushed branches, and untangle the lights. I absolutely had a blast. I did realize something though- what would be considered so dirty, tacky, and useless back home was suddenly the greatest thing ever over here. Our Christmas tree would have been loved only by a half blind 90 year old Grandmother in Florida, but to us stuck here for the holidays, that tree is great.

Happy Thanksgiving!

One would think that Thanksgiving Day while deployed would suck- but I have to admit that today was a great day. We decided that due to low patient census the nurses would split our shift- some would work in the morning, others in the afternoon- so that we could all have some time off. I worked a normal, crazy morning shift and then took off to the DFAC for a Thanksgiving feast. The food was incredible. Realistically, it was glorified Luby’s holiday fare, but to someone that is getting used to our typical bland diet, today’s selection was fantastic. I think the best part was the real whipped cream on the pumpkin pie, since we never have any real milk products. Those of us gathered at the table told the story of our typical family traditions and which part we missed the most. I think for all of us, being away from our Mom was the hardest part. Apparently the rule is that no matter who you are or where you are from, Mom’s holiday cooking is always the best.

Today is beautiful in Baghdad. Completely clear blue sky, 75 degrees, and light breeze. I am currently sitting in the gazebo by my apartment soaking up a little sun. We just heard an explosion a bit to the north- but nothing close by or identifiable. I could see how the enemy would want to mess up our holiday, but hopefully today remains relatively calm.

You can tell that we are all a bit on edge…jumping at each strange sound…yet we are determined to not give up our comfortable place under the gazebo. Each time we hear an explosion in the distance Laura looks up from her book and I look up from my computer. We exchange a glance with a nervous smile before going back to what we were doing. Living in the Green Zone isn’t completely safe- we are taking a risk just being outside like this- yet we are determined to not live the next year in fear.

A different kind of medicine

Tonight my patient was a fresh post-op Iraqi with a fresh above the elbow amputation. Imagine that you are the nurse for this patient. He wakes up, becomes violently upset at the sight of his bandaged and missing arm, and starts yelling (in Arabic, no less) at all the Americans in the room since he holds them to blame for his arm. Members of his military unit are present and one breaks out in tears at the sight of their comrade’s missing arm, more yelling pursues, your patient is in pain because he is moving around in the bed so much, and you have no idea what anyone in the room is saying. The patient is fighting your assessment of him because he #1 doesn’t trust you, and #2 doesn’t want a woman to touch him. You page an interpreter to your ward and attempt to diffuse the situation.

The above situation is the norm for my job. It can be very frustrating and difficult at times. Back home in the states I could add in the statement of “but I love what I do”. Here…I don’t know. I don’t hate it, but dealing with Iraqi’s on a daily basis like this is not what I expected to be doing. Hopefully I will start to be more accepting of my job and start to learn more of the language.

Family emergency

I had taken a hiatus from my blog for a little while. Unfortunately a family emergency pulled me back to the US for about 12 days, and with the travel involved I was gone up until the 17th of November. I have been up in Baghdad for several days now, and am in the process of getting settled in and transitioning into my new job. I will write more and post pictures when I can.

The panini bar and the pimp chair

Today entailed another trip to the palace to eat at the Tigris Café, or affectionately dubbed “the panini bar”. The jist of the café is that you pick your bread or tortilla, fill it with whichever lunch meat, veggies, spices and condiments you choose, and then grill it on the panini grill. Accompanying the meal is the abundance of fruit choices and Middle Eastern Lay’s chips. I have to admit- it is one great place to eat- and even better that I have occasional access to go there. The dining area at the Tigris Café is one of the typical huge palace rooms. Gray and white marble floor and walls, intricate tile mosaics, gold and brass doors, detailed painted ceiling, and crystal chandelier. This isn’t your typical dining hall, yet no one seems awestruck by the splendor. This is just another day in downtown Baghdad.

This afternoon I found the closest laundry facility, which lucky for me, is a 2 minute walk. The fact that I can do my own laundry and not have to turn it in to a company to wash it for me is fantastic. No 3 day wait, no counting out my underwear to an Iraqi contract worker, and (the best part) is that I can use dryer sheets and soap. Excellent.

Ann and I have a patio attached to our bedroom that has a few chairs on it. I decided to try and clean up one of the chairs to use it in my room. Clean up entailed me basically beating the heck out of it with a broom, wiping it down with Clorox wipes, and saturating the fabric with Fabreeze. It took me an hour, but the sand-covered, dusty, sun-faded gray chair on the patio turned into a beautiful purple tufted high-back arm chair with gold painted wooden trim. Back in the states I wouldn’t have paid 3 dollars for it, but here I thought that I struck the lottery. The purple pimp chair is now a lovely addition to my living space.

The sights and sounds of the city

I am currently sitting on the balcony area outside my apartment. Each of the apartments has a common walkway where we have lined up chairs and cots for sitting. Living on the second floor up and above the concrete t-walls means that I can see out a bit into our area. In between the trailers, concrete bunkers, and t-walls rise huge beautiful palm trees. Some of the trees are date palms, and if you are lucky you can find a fresh date that the birds have neglected to find first.


From the balcony I can hear all the normal city sounds- bus engines, car horns, construction workers clanking their tools. Police sirens can be heard along with men shouting in the distance. Iraqis carry on conversations on the sidewalk. The occasional bird chirp breaks up the monotony of the city chorus. If you close your eyes and just listen, you could be in any city in the US- Chicago, New York, Dallas. Then you add in the sound of gunfire, weapons detonation in the distance, and realize that the men are shouting in Arabic- and you are brought back to the fact that this is truly Baghdad.

There is a certain beauty to this city, especially in the architecture. The stonework of the buildings is breathtaking. Marble and granite are everywhere- walls, floors, even inlaid into sidewalks in intricate patterns. Saddam spared no expense in the building of his area.

I live where?

After an eventful Blackhawk helicopter flight, I finally arrive at the hospital. Completely exhausted and on edge, I am given keys to my room. A cheerful Specialist leads the way- across the street from the hospital, through the gate, around the maze of concrete structures and sandbags, up the stairs, and to the door way. Inside I find a bed, complete with mattress, a wardrobe closet that looks like 3rd graders assembled it (the doors are upside down), and a tiki bar. Wait, back up. Is that really a *bar* in my room? Apparently guys lived in this suite previously, and one of them evidently constructed an actual bar out of part of a desk and some wood slats. The top is covered in purple fabric and decorated with red and gold beads. The back has shelving for storage. This completely cracks me up. Party at my place!

Welcome to Iraq

After much frustration at the lack of information given upon arrival at the Baghdad airport, I took it upon myself to phone a friend to assist in the arrangement of a flight to the CSH. I made contact with Jim and decided to just skip the BIAP process entirely. After climbing into his sand covered Land Rover, we headed off to run an errand or two and set up my flight arrangements.

The next day he took advantage of his day off and I took advantage of the fact that my flight was not until much later. We toured around (if you can really tour any of Iraq) and drove by some of the local palaces. A trip to the bazaar yielded a new Iraqi cell phone for me.

We drove by Lost Lake, which in a nutshell is the lake by where Saddam’s sons had one of their rape palaces and would dump the women’s bodies in the lake. Being near the lake was comparable to being in a holocaust museum. It is impossible to describe the eerie feeling in the air. The trees growing near the edge of the water with their long, whispy dangling branches looked like they were crying.

The photos are a few that we took while visiting another lake/palace area.

T-wall art

Photo of Laura, Linda, and myself at the t-wall mural my unit added to the camp in Kuwait. Each unit that passes through the camp paints one of the concrete t-walls.

Headed north

Headed from this sandy place to the city in another sandy place- and we will be moving soon. No details- need to keep my brothers and sisters safe. We will probably be super busy with no time for phones or email for a while, so I probably won't be updating much for a bit. Much love to you all, and I hope to resume posting/emailing/calling soon.

Bathroom thoughts

Scribble on the bathroom wall "thought for the day": "I wish I was where I was when I was wishing I was here". Perhaps, but nonetheless time to make the best of it, and embrace the suckiness of the situation. I am actually excited to be starting my real work soon- taking care of patients again. I miss nursing. Nursing in Arabic will be interesting though, given that I know none of the language right now. That will quickly change when I arrive and start working with the Iraqis. This will be a challenge, but one I welcome. The best days of my nursing career are about to begin.

HEAT training

Today was HEAT training (Vehicle rollover training). After a few lessons on what to do, we were able to actually practice by getting in a truck they had stripped and made a simulator out of. With all of our body armor and equipment, they rotated us 360 degrees, over and over. The gunner on the vehicle doesn’t have a seat belt (the are normally standing in the turret), so the other 4 passengers of the vehicle actually have to help hold the gunner to keep them from flying out of the vehicle. Holy cow- this gave me some good perspective on what the guys go through when they have a vehicle that flips. Once they rotated us around a few times, we had to get out of the vehicle with it upside down. 240 lb combat up-armored doors are not easy to open when you are upside down strapped in a seat (or sorta strapped in- we were like scrambled eggs by that point). It was some serious training, but we had a tremendous amount of fun with it too.
Tonight at dinner it seemed like reunion time- I ran into 3 guys I had a TDY training class with, and another that I had cadet training with back a couple years ago at Ft Lewis, WA. It was great to catch up for a few minutes.

The amusing thing for the day: for some reason, soldiers love Chuck Norris. Every port-a-potty that you go into has something (or many things) written about Chuck Norris. In good military style many are graphic or vulgar, but still hilarious. Example: Chuck Norris was supposed to die last week, but the Grimm Reaper was afraid to tell him. I will have to remember more of the sayings and post them later on.

Much love to you all, thanks for the kind words and emails. I miss you guys, but at the same time I am very excited to finally be moving north soon and getting started taking care of patients again. The real fun has yet to begin.

Women in combat

The funny thing about women in a combat zone or women in the military in general is that we find ways to retain our femininity. Be it bringing the expensive salon shampoo, plugging in the hair straightening iron to the only plug outlet in the tent and running it off the generator, or bringing all pink underwear and bras to the Sandbox- we find ways to stay girls. One of the tent mates did something I find absolutely hilarious, and I asked if I could post it here. Kim agreed.

Back story: Those of us that carry an M16 rifle are required to carry around an ammo magazine holder on the butt stock of our rifle. Currently we have nothing in them, so they are just taking up space. Our new found little storage compartment has been dubbed the “combat tampon holder” since many of us have discovered that it is 1. the perfect size, and 2. we always have it with us.

Not only did Kim nickname the “combat tampon holder” for us (it also nicely holds an iPod and earphones), but she had the following stitched in pink lettering on hers:

(see posted photo of rifle with Johnny Love embroidered on it- posted on the 29th)

Normally the name written on the magazine holder is your own personal name. Hmmm…I wonder how long she can get away with having “Johnny Love” on there. Girls will be girls…even if you deploy us.

Life with 15 females in a tent is interesting. There are no secrets- we know who snores, who drools, who talks in their sleep. We know how often we each shower, who are the readers and who plays on their computer. We have figured out who is first and last to bed, who doesn’t want to get up in the morning, and who brought more bath products to the Middle East than what is normally contained at a Bath & Body Works. The great thing is though- we also share a lot of laughs in between the frustration of someone’s alarm going off 30 minutes earlier than the rest of us wanted to get up.

Our tent is a sea of green, tan, and….pink? In between the sea of camo, weapons cleanings kits, and combat boots you can find purple bath towels, Hawaiian print flip flops and pink shower caddies.

The "combat tampon holder"

Johnny Love: What one of my tent-mates had embroidered on her weapon's magazine holder. More of the story to come later. :)

Welcome to my personal space

Pics inside my tent here at the camp. The second pic is my cot and personal living space. Not much room, eh? We make it work though.

Photos from out at the range

Just a photo

The only pic I can get to upload right now. This is the gals and I out at the firing range.

Rifles in church?

Today I witnessed one of the most beautiful sunrises of my life. The Middle East may be backwards in many things, but there is one aspect to their world that is to be admired- the sun. Wow. A blazing ball of fuchsia and orange, accompanied by a pink and yellow sky…words can not explain the complexity of the colors and the intensity of the beauty. Laura took a few pics out at the range this morning. The magnitude of the desert was apparent this morning- with sand as far as the eye could see. Sand, more sand, and about 5 camels. That’s it…for miles and miles. Once the sun had risen, the sky turned it’s usual shade of gray hazy horizon fading into a bright azure blue sky overhead with a complete lack of clouds.

Early evening I attended a church service. Just your normal, Catholic Mass in the chapel, except for one thing…what is proper etiquette for placement of your M16 for the service and when you go up to take communion? This really was a new thing for many of us, as we tried to strategically place our weapons on the floor between the rows of pews but spaced properly so that the kneeling benches could be lowered without difficulty.

I am having trouble posting pictures, but I will when I get a better internet connection.

Functional internet has been found!

Today you could see the full moon, bright and beautiful floating above the horizon, next to…the sun?!? Between the sand, the hazy cloudless sky, the bright sun, and the moon that appears much larger than back home, I feel like I am on the planet Alderon from Star Wars.

This morning was spent in classes- IED, weapons, and a few other things that I won’t list on the internet. Walking between the different buildings for classes and for meals, we probably walked 3 kilometers today at least. The calluses on my feet are definitely growing.

I have discovered the pay-for-use Internet trailer. $5 an hour gets you a connection that is actually functional. What this translates to is that I no longer have to wake up at 4am to use the internet when no one else is online, and it won’t take over an hour to fully check email. $5 is a small price to pay for time and sanity.

Off to bed now- tomorrow is going to be spent at the firing range with our M16s. The alarm clock is set for 0245, since we have to be there at 0330. Yep, one of those fine early Army mornings. I say “the” alarm clock because there are 16 of us in one small tent- and one clock suffices for all. We each have our cot about 1.5 feet off the floor) and try and stash most of our gear under our cot. We end up with about 2 feet of space between each cot, so it is a good thing I like my neighbors, haha. At night that floor space is occupied with our weapons. More to come on our living situation at a later time…my eyes are closing now.

Bagels and bombs for breakfast

Today’s breakfast menu includes: bagels and bombs? Part of this morning was spent running to the concrete bunkers when the warning sirens went off. I can’t go into details of why, but we did get to spend some of the day wearing our IBA and on lockdown in our area. I can’t imagine the Infantry guys that wear all that gear all day, every day. My heart truly goes out to them.

Surprisingly, I can’t say that I was particularly fearful or nervous while in the bunker. If it is your time, it is simply that- your time- and I refuse to live in a constant state of anxiety for the next 16 months. This isn’t to say that I am not aware of the danger, but I refuse to let that awareness overwhelm me.

Eyeballs and food..but not at the same time

Today (along with yesterday) was spent trying to acclimate ourselves to the new time zone and the environment. I am thankful they gave us 48 hours to catch up on sleep and get oriented. Upon exiting my tent at 0530 this morning I discovered that 0530 in Kuwait is as bright out as normal daylight in the US. Starting at 0630 tinted sunglasses are needed. Around 1000 the temperature starts warming up, and will quickly reach 100 and stay that way until 1500. Around 1600 the temperature starts to drop quickly, and non-tinted eyewear is fine. The wind seems to pick up in the heat of the midday, and loves to carry copious amounts of disgusting chalky sand with it.

The Army has blessed me with a pair of prescription ballistic eyewear that when worn causes to wearer to resemble a bug with huge eyes. The UVEX glasses have prescription inserts that don’t allow for much extra space- so I can not place the lenses up close enough to my face to keep out the sand and wind. Great gob guys…I now have my own swirling vortex of grit between my face and my lenses. On the up side, many of us are doing the “bug look” with our Rx lenses. Back when I was in the States I was doing everything possible to avoid these big, ugly, uncomfortable lenses. Now I really don’t even care…many other things are higher up on the priority list.

Happiness has been found in the food category- Starbucks, Pizza Inn, Subway, Green Bean coffee, Taco Bell, Panda Express, Burger King, etc… all right here. It doesn’t quite taste the same, but it is as close to “home” as you can get. The dining facility, or DFAC, is a whole ‘nother story. The first joy when you walk in is the smell. I have no words…other than to say it can be nausea inducing. The food isn’t horrible by any means, and the selection is fantastic…but the food is different. They bring in the fruits and veggies from Turkey and other nearby regions. The Starbucks has the aftertaste of powdered milk…but at least it has some resemblance to home.

Journey to the sandbox

Our formation for movement was at 1500, followed by loading of our rucks and duffels onto milvans for transport to the aircraft. We drew our weapons from the arms room…my M16 and I now will only part when I am working on the ward in the hospital. We did a large amount of sitting around and waiting…and waiting…and waiting.

Given that the majority of the CSH is PROFIS personnel (meaning that we came from other duty stations other than Ft Campbell, and therefore do not have family living locally) I was surprised to see the large number of family members that turned up. I know that most if not all the families thought that they were being supportive to their service member, but it can be so distressing at times that I heard a few people with family members present that they wish they had said their goodbyes already and begun to move on.

I said my goodbyes last month, but watching so many mothers, children, and friends in tears…and the resulting tears in my coworkers eyes caused me to have to fight back my own emotions. Having been the one left behind previously when Deven deployed, I can say that it is easier to be the one deploying- at least until you get on the airplane.

We finally boarded our buses around 1900 and headed off towards the airfield. After a final check of our medical and immunizations records we ate a meal of cold hamburgers and bland salad. We ate not because we were hungry, but because we didn’t know when our next meal might be.

Midnight came and we set off over the Atlantic. Liepzig, Germany became the first stop on our trek 7000 miles around the globe. Nothing to see or do in Liepzig- we were required to stay in a cordoned off section of the airport.

Around 2300 Kuwait time we touched down in Kuwait City. A chance to use the bathroom, stretch our legs. Our journey had taken over 24 hours thus far. We boarded buses, with curtains drawn to prevent anyone from knowing there were American Soldiers on board. In awkward silence we rode…not knowing our destination, what time we would get there, or what was on the other side of the curtains. Most slept, others like me stared forward without a word.

Exhausted we rolled into Camp…our new home for a bit. I would love to describe this place- but I refrain because I would never want to put myself or my fellow soldiers in danger.

The most striking thing upon arriving is noticing the sand. We all step in it, dig our toes in a tiny bit like a child would at the beach, and then say some form of “ick, that’s disgusting”. Should you ever want to experience the enjoyment of Kuwait sand, try this: remove the bag from your vacuum, dump the contents on yourself and the ground. Roll around in the dust to coat yourself liberally. The sand here isn’t really sand, or dust, or silt…it is somewhere in the middle. This brown dusty chalky substance floats through the air, coats every inch of yourself and everything you own, and likes to linger in your throat as much as possible.

Leaving on a jet plane

Just as the song goes, my bags are packed and I am ready to go. This pretty much is it- just finishing up a few last minute things such as updating my iPod and rearranging my carry on bag for the 15th time. I don't feel worried, but I know I am stressed because my body is telling me so. I keep clenching my jaw tightly and giving myself headaches...but as much as I remind myself to relax, I find myself clenching again and again.

My life is now in 3 bags: 1 duffel, 1 ruck, and 1 laundry bag that has my whole kit (body armor, helmet, and gas mask) in it. Wow. It barely fits- my roommate and I were jumping up and down on our bags to try and make more room. When I undo the latch in Kuwait all my things are going to spray out like a jack-in-the-box...quite a humorous mental image.

Tomorrow is the beginning of something new, but even more so the grand finale. For the past 6 years I have been prepping for this deployment. All of ROTC, my officer training, my nursing school, my time working at Darnall- everything leaded up until today. As anxious as I am, at the same time I am filled with excitement and pride. I will get to do the job that all Army nurses want- to take care of the soldiers who need care the most. I am not a "hooah" person- I could never do the job that the Infantry and Armor guys do- so I do what I can, which is providing the absolute best medical care to soldiers. I am proud that I am getting this opportunity to care for America's sons and daughters. In a twisted way, I am finally going to be living my nursing dream.

I don't know what the future holds for me- be it 15 months of quiet or 15 months of hell. I don't know if tomorrow will be the last day I spend alive on American soil, or if I will return for 60 more years in this great country we call home. While my future is uncertain, what I do know is that I will give my all to the patients under my care. At the end of each long day, I can rest knowing that I did everything possible to keep everyone breathing and comfortable. It's all I have to offer, but I offer everything I have.

Today was a beautiful day here at Ft Campbell- 75 degrees and sunshine without a cloud in the sky. I couldn't have asked for a more gorgeous last day here.

I don't know when I will be able to post again- most likely it will be a couple weeks. God be with us all.

Goodbye ceremony

The countdown here is finally finishing up. We have now entered the 72 hour window for leaving, and this will probably be the last post I make before I fly over the pond and into the land of sand and camels. Finally- the real journey can begin.


We had our "goodbye" ceremony for our unit this afternoon. This was the absolute last time that we would be together as a Combat Support Hospital since the flights out begin soon. Standing there in formation with my Brothers and Sisters I found it hard to look across the parade field at all the families sitting there watching us. I admit that it was by my own choice that I did not have family or friends there today- I never even told my own mother about the ceremony. Honestly, I just couldn't go through another round of goodbyes. The first time was emotionally draining enough, and I didn't think that I could handle it again. Yet, even though I knew none of the chairs was filled with a member of my own family I did not feel alone. I have a new family within this unit, my unit. I sense of belonging that I feel with these people is amazing. Three weeks ago we were strangers, and today we would die for each other.



I couldn't help but think about the family that was there at the ceremony though, sitting in the sun on a hot October afternoon. I have been in their role before, and I think that it was honestly harder to be the one left behind. The absolute heartbreak that they are going through now is nothing like what us soldiers are going through. Talking with a friend at lunch we discussed how we felt right now...or more accurately the lack of what we feel. I am so drained, numb, and detached from everything. Perhaps the numbness is a self-protection mechanism. Numb is better than hurt and distressed. I can handle numb.



Last night Laura and I went to Olive Garden for dinner, and then afterwards went into the Petsmart next to the restaurant. We are both cat lovers, and soon found ourselves in the adoption room petting the kitties through the bars of their metal cages. It may sound crazy, but those 15 minutes with a room full of homeless cats was the most therapeutic and relaxing 15 minutes I have had in a long time. A cat's purr can cure all all the illnesses of the world. I admit that I miss my cat, Meatball, so much that I really don't have words to express it. She would snuggle with me every night, and falling asleep without her seems so empty.


Tonight I am going to get the majority of my final packing done and finishing writing my name on everything I own with a Sharpie marker. Everything is going to get labeled, including my socks. Ha! Seriously though, I don't want any of my things to get lost or stolen, and the purpose of the Sharpie name-tag is to help prevent both.

IBA.......sucks

Holy cow. This stuff is HEAVY! Not just kinda sorta heavy, it is 40 lbs of annoying weight that pushes you down with every step. In order to get it to fit right, the jacket gets cinched up like a corset. The difference though is that you can actually breathe in a corset. This stuff is like breathing against a brick wall. There is NO give at all, so I find myself breathing much more shallow than I normally would. I feel like a green Storm Trooper. Then again, their stuff was plastic, and mine is uber heavy ceramic. I would love to trade and wear the Storm Trooper suit.

I am hoping that my ballistic eyewear prescription inserts arrive before we leave. Otherwise, I will be looking like a ski bunny using the goggles with my regular glasses. Ha! Let's see if I can fully explain the photo. Starting at the top: Army Combat Helmet, affectionately dubbed the "brain bucket". Strapped to the brain bucket is a pair of ballistic sun/wind goggles that are about as comfortable as having an octopus suction-cupped to your face. Around the neck we have ID card holders and dog tags. Our torso gets equipped with a flack-jacket containing ceramic plates that should stop the average Iraqi BB gun. Some high ranking person that obviously never has to wear this crap decided that we would also wear side plates and armpit/deltoid covers, along with a groin plate. Yes, the equipment that should be helping save our lives is so cumbersome that our mobility is severely limited and might actually make things worse. Hanging on our left leg/hip is a bag containing our gas mask. Another wizard came up with the idea to strap that thing around our leg in the most awkward way possible. Perhaps this is all a conspiracy? That is a discussion for another day.... :)

Catching up

Saturday, October 13 2007

The girls and I went to Nashville to enjoy our last Saturday of freedom. Laura, Linda and I were actually approached by a representative from CMT (Country Music Television) to appear on an upcoming show that is currently being filmed. After signed some legal paperwork, we were stuck on camera and asked a few questions. Ugh... I can't believe that my 10 seconds of fame may be on quite possibly the strangest topic ever. I would tell you more, but...I can't. Hehe!

That evening the three of us took a "ghost tour" of Nashville. Nothing really spooky, but we did learn some of the history behind a few of the older buildings and the capital building.

Thursday, October 11 2007

Today was spent out on the firing range...alllllll day. My M-16 and I have now truly bonded. While I have qualified on the M-16 many times before, I never wore full body armor while doing so. Interesting note about women, weapons, and body armor: when you add 30 lbs of gear that is incredibly bulky, it is nearly impossible to get the end of your rifle up in the pocket of your shoulder. The end result? You have to fire with the end of the rifle on your arm and you gain one heck of a bruise. I submit my right bicep photo as evidence:

Wednesday, October 10 2007

SRP day today. No idea what SRP actually stands for (God bless the Army and their nine million acronyms), but it translates into hours of standing in lines for vaccinations, eye exams, hearing tests, medication refills...you get the idea. After speaking with one of the docs the determination was made that I will not be getting any more Anthrax vaccine boosters due to the bad reaction I had the last time. Eek. Not sure if I like that answer or not.

I *heart* my co-workers!

I absolutely love and adore my new coworkers. Seriously. These people rock. I am assigned to ICW2 (Intermediate Care Ward #2), along with several other Lieutenants and a Captain. We all get along so very well- almost shockingly well. The training days suck, but they are also filled with much laughter. Somehow we are keeping each other in a good mood. Hopefully this will continue throughout the deployment, and whenever even one of us is down everyone else can bring them up. I look forward to working with each of them- I can see that teamwork is something our ward will succeed in.

Tonight Kurk, Laura, Christine and I went out to eat at a local Mexican restaurant and kicked butt at the live trivia game they had going on. Had we not bet all of our points on the bonus round we would have actually won the game. We already have plans to go back to trivia night next Monday.

Photos: Laura after I told her to "pose". She cracks me up! She's a great roommate now, and I hope that we continue to be roommates in Iraq. The second photo is Linda and I, stuck in a EO (Equal Opportunity) briefing, bored out of our minds.

Jazz on the lawn

Last night several of us went to Clarksville, TN for "Jazz on the lawn", an event hosted by Beach Haven winery. Live music, lots of wine, and new friends made for an excellent combination. We managed to kill off several bottles of wine, including "Golden Oak", "Harmony", and "Raspberry". I highly recommend the raspberry- yum!

While the band was taking a break one of the songs played was "Electric Slide", and the girls tried their very best to get me dancing. Hmmm... maybe I will learn it while we are gone. Line dancing sounds more fun than internet college courses any day :)

Pic, L to R: Me, Linda, Kelly, Laura, Kirk

Week one is complete!

Week one is finally over! Whew. This new lifestyle is certainly an adjustment. Even simple things are difficult: standing for hours and hours and hours is taking it's toll on my back, and lifting all this equipment has made me incredibly sore. Friday morning we had a APFT (Army Physical Fitness Test) consisting of pushups, situps, and a 2 mile run. I passed, but my score was not great due to being completely exhausted and sore. Many of us were in the same boat though and honestly I am just glad it is over.

We had CIF and RFI- both consist of being issued large amounts of Army equipment such as ballistic helmets, body armor, uniforms, new boots, and everything from multi-tool Gerbers to earplugs. I have bags and bags of gear. Turns out that with the new body armor it weighs about 44lbs total, including our weapon. While it is incredibly heavy and hot to wear, the weight is distributed pretty evenly throughout your torso so it is not unbearable. Lugging around an M-16 isn't going to be fun either (I was hoping to be issued a pistol) but at least I know I can defend myself better with a semi-automatic rifle.

Last night was our first reprieve from the long hours of training. Linda, Laura, Kurt (fellow nurses) and myself all went out eat at Olive Garden and then to Target for a few things. Just the simple act of being in civilian clothing again felt great. Today the plan is to do laundry and then attend a wine/jazz event this evening. Yay for normality!

I miss you all...I miss my friends in Dallas, my coworkers at Darnall, my Mom, Meatball my cat. This is hard, but during the day you are so busy that you don't have time to think about everything you are away from. During the night you are too exhausted, so you try not to think about it. There seems to be this unspoken rule that you simply don't talk about everything you miss, or how lonely you are. Everyone embraces their new friends here, and somehow we will make it through this together.

Reality check

I think that the honeymoon is over. The first 2.5 days were fantastic- meeting new coworkers, friends, living mates- that I will spend the next 16 months with. Everyone seemed so fantastic and I was full of energy and excitement at the journey and challenge ahead of us. Today was different though. After my third day of 13+ hour training, skipping meals, standing in the heat, and playing the Army "hurry up and wait game", I am exhausted and frustrated. This is not going to be fun on any level. I think today the reality of the deployment finally hit me. Somewhere in between spray painting our names on our duffel bags and being told that we would be doing PT in NBC masks the gravity and magnitude of my situation hit me. Ever look at your life and say "Holy shit, how did I get here? How did I end up doing this? What the hell was I thinking?" That was today for me. This is hard, this is work, this is frustrating...and I am in the middle of it. There is no going home for a long, long time...and starting today I need to find ways to deal with it. Luckily I am surrounded by great new coworkers and friends, and together we will find ways to pick each other up when we are down...even though I wasn't expecting to be down so soon.

Not sure if this is really all normal or not. Everything over the past few weeks has been so surreal, so distant, and so emotionless. Saying goodbye to everyone was hard, but yet it was as though I was completely numb and unable to comprehend the harsh reality of the situation. Perhaps that was for the best...though I am having to deal with those feelings now.

New beginnings

Finally, a beginning. After 8 months of preparing to go and a week of saying goodbye to my friends, family, home and cat, things are finally in motion. I am now at the US post where I will be spending the next couple of weeks in training for the sandbox. Today was an uneventful day of flying, doing a ton of paperwork inprocessing, and now I am waiting to meet up with a few fellow CSHers to head to dinner. I have to admit that I am actually excited to be here. Today was the start of something new- a new job, a new place, new faces, a new mission... and a new challenge to be met over the next 16 months or so. I am actually happy to be here- let's hope my optimism does not quickly fade away.

Packing up and moving out

Written on 25-Sept-07:

There have been lots of changes over the past few weeks, but reality still had not set in. Sure, I was preparing to leave; the prep seemed like a never-ending part of my job. Today that all changed as I was staring into the 10 x 15 storage unit that became the new home for all of my precious things. Nothing makes a move seem real until you pack up your home in cardboard and paper and send it off down the road in a truck.

Tonight was spent sorting through a few remaining things at the otherwise empty apartment and cleaning a bit. Somewhere around 8 the notion struck me- this is really my last evening alone, in my apartment, doing just whatever I want. A pizza order, the discovery of 2 remaining pear ciders in my fridge, freshly vacuumed carpet and stealing wireless internet from one of my neighbors….and here I am. Content to just sit here in the quiet for one last little bit.