Thursday, February 26, 2009

Not The Lady Who Lunches

Sometimes it just hits me. Other mid-lifers are not spending their lives like this. I mean, this is like we're just starting out all over again. New rules, new people, new locations, a husband mostly gone --and for me, a new life spent mainly with the kids while starting in a brand new career. The house is mostly unkempt, the dog eats the mail, the cat --as usual, is unappreciative of all these changes.
Oh, really. Stop the pity party. But I can't help but think: at 48?
Am I crazy?
Sometimes, I think yes.
And then I get frazzled. It can happen when I hear depressing news about the economy or the wars, or even when I'm late for a sales call: I do daft things. Like turn left on my way home (where I know I'm not supposed to), and then turn around and cop has pulled up behind me in the driveway. And I start to kind of lose it... like I mean, to the point where he's just thinking, "Oh, my.... now this is one of those ladies out of a Stephen Sondheim musical. Just quit yer yipping lady and take this ticket."
But then he does something nice. Then he sees the flag, the yellow ribbons the stickers, and instead, we talk. And maybe he was that one person who was supposed to slow me down, tell me that things are going to be okay. Take each day as it comes.

Tuesday, February 17, 2009

Rommel's Dog and Future Memories

Yesterday, I was flipping through the photographs taken of the office when I closed it. Each room was painted a different color. There was no TV, but soothing music, along with images of nature and also impressionist prints on the walls. The lights were dim --lamps instead of flourescent in the waiting room.
This was a lifetime's vision & work.
Memories: one of the first questions we'd ask someone new:
"Tell me something about yourself that not many people know."
"I caught Rommel's dog," answered one old man.
I remember a patient with flesh-eating bacteria who was in the hospital for most of a year. He wasn't the first or the last patient with this scary and debilitating disease. In fact, hubby became the regional expert in operating on those with Necrotizing Fasciitis. This patient and his girlfriend decorated his room with black sheets, skulls and crossbones, and pumpkins for Halloween. Given his condition, it was ghoulish, but they had that kind of black humor. Later, he married his girlfriend during one of his hospitalizations. They would bring presents for my then-infant daughter. Barretts for her hair, and extra soft brushes. Sadly, he didn't make it. Not due to flesh eating bacteria, but to cancer the next year.

And yes, I even remember the corruption of doctors who would undercut one another, and also the industry that became built not on caring or quality, but on capitations and with holding care. There was the medical director who bragged, "Surgeons are a dime a dozen." To him, life was cheap, people were worthless. A tragic attitude. His son committed suicide last year. These are things one wishes not to remember, but bear mentioning --to pray things get better, to pray that the soul of the son who couldn't find peace with his Dad, has found it with God.

There were also patients who stayed with us for a long time, like the one with endless mrsa's and complications --who later turned out to be a source of endless inspiration in the way she was always cheerful and thinking of others. Of course, we had our share of gang bangers, drug addicts, people with cancer who wouldn't believe it and went from doctor to doctor seeking a different opinion until it was too late. There were the two H's: hernias and hemorhoids. There were gallstones and appendectomies, too. We had our share of deranged family members, several times having to call security to sit by the front door checking ID's before they were allowed in. But the ones I remember the most were the many women with breast cancer, many of whom became like family. There was the woman who always came in with her loving, attentive husband. And I have to say, the cancer patients were always the ones with whom we became closest.

We got a letter from one yesterday. She wrote to our old address and said,
"Dear Doc, I don't know if you'll ever get this, but I just wanted to let you know, I've been thinking of you."
She is a two-time cancer survivor. I was happy to hear she's still around.
I wish they could know how much we think of them.
It feels so different now. It is different. New types of patients, way-rad injuries, unspoken afflictions....noiser, less certain, a new bureaucracy... and yet there are many similarities.
Everyone has needs.
I wonder which of the patients hubby is taking care of, that he'll remember the most?
And I wonder if someday in the future, we'll get a letter like the one above.
I can only hope.

Friday, February 13, 2009

To Ban Or Not To Ban: Photographs Of Coffins

Robert Gates announced that he was reconsidering the ban on photography during the initial arrival of flag-draped coffins coming home.

Remember, if you will, the original photograph that ran in The Seattle Times that got photographer Tami Silicio fired in 2004. Silicio was fired amid accusations that the photograph was being used to turn public opinion against the war. However, it was a reaction she was neither trying to garner or wanted. On Tuesday, Silicio was quoted in the Seattle Times:
"It was a passionate picture that they turned political," she said on Tuesday. "They should be honored coming home. They should be addressed. What parent doesn't want their child honored when they come home?"

Allowing coffins to be photographed more widely, she said, would put the focus back on the soldiers.
Herein lies the difficulty of coming up with a singular answer. There are historical, societal and personal perspectives, each leading to a different answer.

I remember the flag covered coffins coming home on planes during the Vietnam war. These made a profound impression on me, as I was aware that cousins, sons of neighbors, and others not that much older than me could easily be drafted. I felt, like many did, that I had something at stake that would affect me personally.

These photographs galvanized the anti-war effort. But for those who aren't aware, the anti-war effort was wrapped in many issues, which included a general challenge of all commonly held beliefs, the loosening of restrictions on women, a recognition of racial inequalities, and the emergence of power of the lower and middle classes. What we knew was being questioned and taken apart. This was being done by the children of the men (and women) who had served in WWII and Korea and were raised during the commercial and cultural innovations of the 1950's.

Let's just say, it was an exciting time, but a crazy time.
Unfortunately, the legacy of the anti-war movement did have a demoralizing effect on our military. Somewhere along the line, most Americans associated it with negative stereotypes. Just one of the little acknowledged results was its effect on public policy. For instance, the erosion of VA Hospital funding, the chipping away of benefits for veterans. Undiagnosed PTSD, underfunded mental health services. But perhaps the worst result is what seems to be a permanent and growing military/citizen divide.

Service in the military isn't an option that most college or even high school graduates would consider. In fact, it's not even a consideration for most parents of those children either. Proof of this exists in the change in demographics at the ivy leagues. Whether or not it's fair or wise, the ivies have become the petri dish for future presidents. But look at the sharp decline in those with military experience, as pointed out by Frank Schaeffer and Kathy Roth Douquet in the book AWOL. In 1956 at Princeton, out of 750 graduates, 400 had served in uniform. In 2004, only nine graduates entered the military. This is less than one percent. Many ivy league campuses no longer have ROTC. But not to single out the ivy leagues, enrollment in ROTC in general at college campuses is either low or non-existent. In addition, fewer of those in Congress or the Senate responsible for voting on veteran benefits, military spending, or on international policy have military experience.

In other words, there's an enormous wall between those who serve and those who don't. The same groups are serving time and again. Hence, the lack of interest and more galling, the dearth of comprehension about today's soldier. Not to be overlooked is the danger of discussions about war, military, public policy, and life in general becoming less based on experience, and resting on incomplete perceptions. There is a feeling amongst many that they have no stake in either building or maintaining our nation. And why should they? Other people are doing it for them.

Which begs the question: Would allowing photographs of flag covered coffins assist in breaking down the wall between the military and the public? Would it lead to further support of the soldiers and families who serve our nation? Would it start chipping away at the apathy of those not serving? Or would it be a great intrusion of a family's deepest tragedy? Would those families --who are often seen afar as some odd variety of bird, be subjected to not only the Glory bloggers, but the Anti-war bloggers during a time of grief?

So you can see, it's a big question that covers a lot of terrain. That original photograph has been photo-shopped to meet the needs of various people on both sides. Unfortunately, because of technology on almost everyone's computer, there is little anyone can do to control this. It's going to happen.

But the primary need we have to respect is that of the family of the deceased. I don't want the loss of life to be a photo op for anyone's needs. While photos of funerals have become common in our culture --everything from parents of a drowned child to others slain by gangs, there has to be one arena where a family's grief is solemn, and their tears be unfettered by the click of a camera. If it's at an airbase as the coffins come off the plane, then let this be the one spot where things may be controlled. After all, once they step through the gates to the cemetery, they'll be in full view then.

Monday, February 9, 2009

Volunteers with Duty

When I find myself in a new area, I observe and jump in. For the past month I've volunteered at the ASYMCA Concrete Beach program at Camp Pendleton. When the Marines finish their 20km hike they enter Concrete Beach and are treated to a BBQ --all run by volunteers. Many of these volunteers have barbecued, baked and served for years, rain or shine. They come from many walks of life --bank employees, retired school teachers, kids completing community service hours by baking cookies, former military, as well as active military family members.
On this day, I give you the best.

Tuesday, February 3, 2009

Bomb In Gut, 2007

"Oh asked for volunteers to stay in the operating room and help him save Moss’s life. Several soldiers raised their hands."

Heroes. I'm sending you over to a story about a U.S. Army surgeon in Afghanistan who removed an undetonated bomb from a soldier's gut.
Bomb In Gut
I've heard of a lot of crazy stories, have heard of way-wacky cases, but this is the ballsiest of them all. I mean, okay, it's one thing to take into the ER a guy who has been shot up twenty times and save his life (as they do in major trauma centers in the US), or save someone whose neck has been impaled by a fence post. But a live RPG? Unimaginable.

So without futher ado, I send you over to watch the read about the heroics of the 759th FST (Forward Surgical Team).
And here's a photo. Dr. Oh is the slim one on the far right. He was awarded The Soldier's Medal, which is above The Bronze Star and below the Distinguished Flying Cross:

Fort Hood Medical Soldiers Awarded for Heroism
"From left, Lt. Col. William Brock, Sgt. Troy Galvan and Maj. John Oh receive congratulations following the ceremony at Carl R. Darnall Army Medical Center's auditorium Jan. 25 that recognized them for heroic, lifesaving acts. Photo by Jon Connor"
-From ArmyMil News





And here's PFC Channing Moss, whose life they saved.
From MilitaryTimes