Long Silence...

I know it has been a while since last I wrote, but there are many reasons why. The main reason is I wanted those that DO visit my page to read up on me to see that my last blog meant A LOT to me. CPT Ortiz was a mentor, a friend, and a confidant. She encouraged me to pursue a career in Dialysis, which I will be attending the school for in 2009. I am indebted to her for showing me the compassionate side of nursing (a side I was oblivious to until I met her).

After her death, I went through some really rough spots. I endured nightmares, increased sensitivity to loud noises (that still persists), and depression. I can't imagine the terror that those combat arms individuals face. I am not downplaying my own experiences...I just know it could have been worse.

I am anxious to come home. I have long surpassed the point in this deployment where I actually cared. It is time to leave this place. Hopefully, with the transition into Dialysis, I won't ever have to visit this sandbox again. I have a lot to look forward to when I get home. My most precious daydream is getting off that plane...and running to my wife's arms and embracing in a long awaited kiss!

When I return to Ft. Riley we will have to find somewhere to live, whether it be an apartment, townhouse, or house for lease. I am looking forward to calling somewhere home. Don't get me wrong, Jeremy(my roommate) is a nice guy and all...but...seriously, THAT ROOM IS TOO SMALL FOR THE TWO OF US!!

This has been a long year and a few months...I have seen things that I hope to never witness again. I have met people that I have developed friendships with and will continue those bonds over time. I have met people that I never want to have contact with again...part of life! I have had experiences that I wish I could delete from my existence they are so graphic...horrific...troubling. It's sad to think that more and more individuals will be subjected to this tragic stage over the years. I pray it gets better here...

I pray that the people of Iraq realize the beauty of a Democracy.
I pray that the people of Iraq choose peace, and turn their cheeks at war.
I pray that the leaders of the opposition will find their end through justice.
I pray that the Middle East will find its path through the ugliness of war.

I pray OUR LEADERS will have the wisdom to find a resolution for this region and be able to effectively put its plan into action.

I continue to pray.

How many times does that happen?

It's not every day you come to work, expecting to find yet another ward full of patients. Honestly, you don't think anyone ever even thinks about your work other than your own family and friends. It's an unexpected surprise to show up to work and be visited by NOT ONE, but TWO United States Senators. The Honorable Mr. Biden (Delaware) and the Honorable Mrs. London (Arkansas) graced us with their presence. I was able to shake their hands, and exchange pleasantries. Mrs. London actually held a conversation with me due to the fact that I hail from Oklahoma...somehow that made us kin! I found it amusing.

Before that day, I really didn't know who they were. I couldn't have told you who was the Senator for either state. I know my own Senator...have even written a letter to him about the situation over here. No response of course. But, what else would you expect?

I can actually, truthfully say...this deployment has allowed me to meet people I otherwise would have no opportunity to meet in the states.

I'm Ron Burgundy?

I only titled this entry the above because it ran through my mind as I started to type! Don't ask me why...it just happens that way sometimes. Chey--you know better than anyone how random I can be! ;) That's just me.

So, I am mainly writing today because I want to express my gratitude for a loving, caring, devoted, beautiful, and selfless wife. Cheyenne Noel...this name has to mean "Blessing from Heaven". I do not know if I deserve the grace that she bestows upon me. This woman has done more for me while I have been deployed than I thought anyone could or would do for anyone. She has sent me packages, letters, cards, and anything else someone can think of that would just make someone's day! Each and everytime it shows that I have mail...I just know that my wife has done something else spectacular for me. She may think that it is ONLY a card. But, to me...it's much much more than that. It's her love reaching out and embracing me and comforting me in a place that offers none of this for me. I cherish the smallest token that she sends as if it were a treasure.

She thinks that she doesn't do much for me, that she could somehow do MORE! But, I can only say that she has done everything and more than I could ever have asked her to do. I love you Chey! You are my everything...my rock...my confidant...and most of all--MY BEST FRIEND!!!

I just wish we could have spent our first anniversary together... We have many more to share!

Time Flies...



As long as I have been here in Iraq, I could almost consider this a duty station. Being in the Army, we are stationed at different posts across the world, typically,for three years. On August 14th, I surpassed my one year mark of being away from home. A lengthy 11 and 1/2 months has come and gone while we have been here in Baghdad. We have finally begun to count down the days...only because we are below one hundred til Homecoming.



Homecoming...that word now has another meaning to me in my life. There was a time that it only meant a football game with the clash of the Titans vs. The Unlucky Opponent. This game was divided by a showing of popularity during the halftime show with the Homecoming Queens and Kings parading around the field. This charade usually only left me feeling all the more inadequate, as I was no one of significance at that juncture in my life.



Homecoming...I can now add these meanings: Day of Rejoicing, Day of Reunion, Day of Revitalization. I will rejoice in the fact that I am back in my own country, back on trusting soil. I will rejoice while my beautiful wife holds me in her arms again, and I am able to kiss her lovely lips. The reunion between my wife and I will be a long-awaited, yet cherished moment that I am sure we will both have etched in our memories once it has come and gone. This past year has definitely taken a lot out of me...physically...spiritually...emotionally. Just stepping foot onto the tarmac at Pope Air Force Base will be the revitalization I need to keep my head up.



This is one Homecoming I can't wait to show up to...I know I will be the most popular person to SOMEONE!! ;o)

Sandstorm

The days are counting down...118 left I think. I can't wait to finally be home again. It seems like I have been here an eternity. I have seen too many things and endured many sleepless nights while I have been here. I think I...we ALL have earned our tours end. The word on the street is we will be pulling out of here Nov. 13th, but I won't hold my breath...only to be duped yet again by those who continually dupe.

I started off with a little info...just to talk about the sandstorm today. It happens every so often, and definitely isn't unusual for where we are in the world to have a sandstorm. I only see the end effects of it during the day though, because I work nights over here. Today as I walked to the Dining Facility, I just happened to look up and actually looked RIGHT AT the sun. It was so dusty that it formed a tint between the sun and my eyes, almost eclipse-like. It looked like a white dot amidst a sea of brown. It's not every day you can look directly at the sun, without squinting.

I will cherish the days that I am not here...it's like having a near-death experience. You don't want to let life leave you in the wake after you have been here for a year and 3 months.

As I remember...

Tuesday...July the 10th, 2007.

Why did it have to happen to us? Why did WE have to lose someone in this war? We are supposed to be PRESERVING the fighting strength...and yet we have to suffer loss too? Why? We even take care of the enemies! You wonder if they even KNOW that! And yet...they still target us.

Tuesday....July the 10th, 2007.

Another day of combatives...sweat pouring from my pores as I change clothes after a session of grappling with the boys. We all were laughing...joking about who choked who out, or who got what submission hold on whom. Then...

Tuesday...July the 10th, 2007.

That's when the mortars started landing. Were they mortars? Or was it just a garbage truck banging an empty receptacle against it's worn, beaten steel exterior? Hard to tell these days...but the thunderous booms only grew louder. This only means that they are landing CLOSER. Fear set into ALL of our bodies, showing in each of our eyes. We all smeared ourselves on the floor AND against the wall, trying to stay away from windows...

Tuesday...July the 10th, 2007.

We have heard 7...even 15 at times...but this time, this time there were more. At least 25 and counting, we wondered if it would stop. We stared at each other. Afraid that we weren't really safe in the building where we lay, but we stay still...waiting.

Tuesday....July the 10th, 2007.

After what seemed to be hours...but was only 20-25 minutes, we heard the "Big Voice" say, "All Clear! All Clear!" We picked ourselves up off the floor, and gathered our rifles, pistols and belongings. We had ended our session anyway, so heading back to the hospital was our next step. We hesitantly set foot outside and make our way back...

Tuesday...July the 10th, 2007.

Walking up to the front gate I notice a trail of blood...a worn shoe, tattered...a bloody shirt, ripped and lying alone in the street. Where is the person that should be wearing these things? He...she...must be inside. Half a dozen individuals stand at the gate, waiting for treatment...bloodied and scared. I could see it in their eyes; the fear.

Tuesday...July the 10th, 2007.

Our group had dissipated as we entered the grounds of the Combat Support Hospital. We each went to our supporting areas. A fellow soldier, "Hollywood", and I made our way to our ward. We were greeted with heavy hearts, and tear-filled eyes. I didn't know what was wrong...half of me didn't WANT to know. 1LT VB tells me, "She's in the ER...she's (sobbing) been hit...(sobbing)...."

Tuesday...July the 10th, 2007.

My disbelief overtakes my anger and I head toward the Emergency Room. I trot down the steps, and turn the corner only to find more people being treated in the hallway. We had run out of room in the actual ER to take care of all the wounded. My leader...my NCOIC...my mentor showed up at the same time I did and we both washed our hands and donned gloves, thinking we could possibly help...if need be. We were directed to where she was being worked on.

Tuesday...July the 10th, 2007.

I walked into the Trauma Room, and my knees became weak. Was I really seeing what I was seeing? Were my eyes playing tricks on me? That can't be her...that CAN'T be her. NO. NO. NO. A team of people had surrounded this person, doing what they could to revive this life. A man stood at her head with a bag between his hands...squeeze; pause; squeeze; pause; squeeze. Her lung protruding from the her left side. A doctor reaching into this crevace and physically pumping the heart, which had actually stopped just moments before.

Tuesday...July the 10th, 2007.

A pale, seemingly lifeless person laying before me tubes going in every direction...I see holes in her body, but where is the blood? Maybe my mind tricked me into NOT seeing any, I don't know. For some reason, all I saw was how milky her skin seemed in comparison to the caramel that usually covered this effervescent woman. There was no smile on her face. Only a blankness that only raises fears in the ones that love her. The doctors continued to work...I walked out. I could not see my mother in this way. I didn't want to watch what could be the end...

Tuesday...July the 10th, 2007.

Comforting each other...we all huddled against the walls of the hallway on our ward. We had heard that she had been taken to surgery. We had also caught wind of the fact that they had to crack her chest (which I witnessed, but did not compute at the time). Breakdowns were already occurring, including myself as we all knew too well the outcome of this procedure. There had only been 1 person (out of tens to hundreds of people they have cracked the chest on) that survived. Now we wait...we hope...we pray.

Tuesday...July the 1oth, 2007.

They allowed us to view her before the Angel Flight. Because of all the work they had done on her trying to save her, we were only able to view her head. Everything else was covered, respectfully. We, as a unit...as a family...stood around her, encircled in prayer. We asked God to use her to her potential, and to give her the task of watching over us. One by one we said our goodbyes. I leaned over her face, my hands placed to her cheeks, forehead to forehead, and promised her that I would not let her down in M3 school. I told her that I loved her as a mother, and was glad to have known her for this time.

Tuesday...July the 10th, 2007.

Later that evening, we were given the honor of putting our friend, our mother, our Captain onto the helicopter that would take her home to her family. The four of us, NCOIC, Hollywood, Des, and myself poised ourselves as we lifted the litter that carried her. We hoisted in unison, and carried her from the morgue to the "gator" (a golf cart-like vehicle). We slowly walked beside her on the gator as we approached the helipad. The individuals that made up our ward were lined up on each side of the street, to create a hallway which we would travel between to the helicopter. As we passed, each and everyone raised their right hands to the corner of their brows in SALUTE to their fallen comrade. We four lift her from the gator and transfer her to the helicopter that is to be her wings.

We all joined the rest of the hospital at the edge of the helipad...standing at Attention, until the birds lift off. When her Blackhawk lifts towards the sky, crisp salutes domino through the crowd paying respect.

Tuesday...July the 10th, 2007....was the day we had to say goodbye to one of the purest of hearts, the most influential, the most loving of individuals. Farewell, and may God keep you safe.

This is better than Folgers in your cup...

I wake up, and wipe the crust from the inner corners of my eyes, searching for my cell phone. The alarm ringing out for me to climb out of my slumber, I quickly press the button to silence the annoyance. In a sleepy stupor, my fingers manage to open my laptop and double-click on Yahoo messenger. Tapping my fingers, I eagerly await for the program to open so I can webcam with my beautiful wife. I use my cell phone to call her so she can join me online, and we can enjoy each other's company via internet. We type our hellos and our I love yous....and then begins the racing heart.

At least seven mortars landed in our area, not more than 50-100 meters outside my sleeping quarters. I stay in a hardened building so my only real concern is glass...but I will say this, my pucker factor went WAY UP! I won't talk about any details regarding where/what/why/who/etc., but let's say that I felt the most helpless I have ever felt in my life.

Needless to say...when it was all said and done, my heartrate was easily 90+ and there was no longer an ounce of sleep left in me. Better than any cup of coffee or cappuccino I have ever had. I just don't wish this wake up on anyone...and can only pray that it doesn't happen again to me.

Hallelujah!! It's over!

I finally received my final grade for my Sociology class. I have been biting my nails after a long couple of weeks trying to complete the assignments asked of me. But, after all the anxiety I logged into the school website today to find a big fat B staring me in the face. You have no idea how elated I was to see that B. I think that is the first B I have ever rejoiced about!! ;o)

I never have to look at another Sociology essay question, nor write any papers on the spawn of Satan subject. (sigh)

{{throwing up peace sign}} DEUCES! On to the next class...

MAYBE!

Waterworks...(yuck)

Have you ever woken up one day and you make your morning trek to the latrine(that's a bathroom for you civilians!), and you find that you have liquid coming from both ends...? I know, I know. That's the most disgusting thing you have ever heard, right? But I have had this scenario for the past two days, and just can't seem to shake it. At first, I thought it was a bout with dehydration. I gave myself an IV, pumped some fluids, and still no change. I have stayed away from the fresh fruits and salads...still no change. Nothing but bubble gut...yuck.

I think I spend more time in the bathroom than taking care of my patients. I hope I can get rid of this "crap" soon. It's starting to get on my nerves.

Test yourself...

Here is something you can do to try to emulate the conditions over here...

1. Wait until you see your weather report, then pick the hottest day that is forthcoming
2. Rummage through the closet and grab your warmest jacket/coat in your possession
3. Find a football helmet or go to your local Army surplus store and purchase an old K-pot
4. Next, fill a backpack with 50-70lbs of sand(or anything of weight)
5. On that hottest day, put on boots, sweat pants, a long sleeve shirt/windbreaker, THEN add your jacket/closet that you found
6. Finally, don your helmet and backpack and go outside into the warmth

See how long you last on your own...by YOUR CHOICE! We do this every day...

Look at the bright side, I get paid for it. And I get to look at palm trees all the time...HEY! Where the hell is my drink with the little umbrella in it???

It feels as if it will never end...

I went on R&R from this place of sand and seemingly "lost hope" to a much better location...Pennsylvania. The time waiting for my leave day eeked by, teasing and taunting me, making a few weeks last an eternity.

The wait was well worth it...

I came off the plane, sweaty and stinking from being in the same uniform for more than three days...only changing the underclothes. The heat of Iraq and Kuwait has no mercy for weak glanded...I sweat profusely. Despite the grime and gringe that soured the air around me, I was greeted at the terminal at my destination by my gorgeous and glowing wife. She darted across the waiting area to enveloped by my arms. I lifted her off the ground and held her as tight as I could...I didn't want to let her go. She showered me in kisses and hugged me tighter than I have ever been hugged before...She acted like she hadn't seen me in 8months or somethin'!!!

I was told later that we actually made some of the people around us in the terminal cry, like they were watching the Notebook. I didn't even notice anyone outside of Cheyenne. She was the only person I saw...the only person that I cared to see...(no offense mom!)

That was the beginning of a great two weeks. A very well deserved break from the every day stress of being in theater.

The day I left was extremely difficult. Not only for Chey, but for me as well. I hated to say goodbye again. I hated to have to see those beautiful blue eyes well up with tears and watch streams roll down her rosy cheeks. Her lower lip quiver...not even my touch was able to soothe her. Gently caressing her cheek, telling her that it was okay-"It's only 3 1/2 months", I said,"like ma said you can do that on yer head." I know I said that cause I had to eat those words as soon as I walked through the doors of the hospital.

"We're being extended."

Those were the words I was welcomed with as I walked up the stairs to where I work..."welcome back, sorry for the bad news." I wish I would have known that information before I went on leave. It would have put a different perspective on things...wedding plans mainly.

So, a few months longer than expected Babygirl...I know I said 3 1/2 months. I take it back. But there are a couple positives that I will preach to you to make it easier to swallow. (We'll talk!)

Something I am not fond about...

I am currently in Sociology with Excelsior University. The last reading we were assigned had a term to describe a worker that would deliberately slow his/her efforts to decrease productivity on purpose! (known as soldiering, a person soldier) When I read this term...I was actually irritated by its use in this manner. Maybe it's just me...maybe. What are your thoughts?

What do you say to something like that? Honestly...

I already have you curious as to what I am going to talk about don't I? America. One word meaning freedom, and the pursuit of happiness. A goal actually reached by some of the Iraqi men, women, and children. They leave entire families behind in search of this dream, that under Saddam was unthinkable. I want to share a story I heard today from one of the Iraqi guards I work with, his name will not be mentioned, for reasons you all know.

I came to work today, not looking forward to it, as usual. Guard duty is NEVER a fun task. There is some joy found in the conversations with Iraqi guards while manning the gate, however. Their English is broken and trying to understand what they say sometimes is a more difficult task than you would think. Some get by with the most basic of dialogue, and are understandable. The gentleman I refer to now, usually is quite jovial, uplifting all the guards with song...and sometimes even dance. (dancing behind barracades of course - out of sight)

On this day...a somber look invaded his gaze. Their was no happiness in his demeanor, and it is quite easy to notice that he was not himself. I asked him if there was anything wrong. He tells me this...

A man he knows had been in America for twenty years, and came back to help his family. The militia kidnapped him, and posted a ransom of 25,000 dollars. They told the family that if they did not pay, he would be killed. This guard sold everything he had...car, household furniture, clothes...to try to raise this money to save the man he knew.

He found out today that it was all in vain.

The worst had already happened. The man that was his father.

All I could do was put my hand on his shoulder and tell him I was sorry. What do you say to something like that?

Yet another wonderful seven days of armor bearing guard duty. It seems like just yesterday, I set my vest and helmet down, just to pick it right back up again. -SIGH-

I think I might let everyone in on a little secret that I must keep from all of you. You all know where I am...and the prospects of danger here. So it is not a surprising fact that every day is not roses and sunshine. Here is my inner workings on the whole matter:

The less you know = the less you worry
The more you knew = I guarantee the worry factor would increase

I ask only for your support, thoughts, and prayers. My thoughts are on Cheyenne...coming home...and the next chapter in life. "Until the next blog..." -taking a bow, tipping my hat-