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.