The Von Klepner Curse!

Today while walking back from lunch, the topic of poo came up among the Marines and I. To that end, I’ve come to learn that there are two types of people in this world, the first kind walks into a public restroom, enters a stall and lets it rip as fast and as loud as possible when he or she needs to "go number 2”, never once batting an eye. The other kind tries feverishly to control the tone of his external anal sphincter to allow for the quietest release of defecate and flatulence as possible, maintaining his dignity, even though it never gets recognized or applauded. This quietly ignored facet of human nature has always puzzled me, especially since it is a natural body function, and that it feels so much better to “let it all go quickly”. [To quote the words of my wise deceased grandmother – “You can’t hold what you don’t have in your hand!”]

There are however, as I have come to learn, scenarios where paying no heed to dignity is acceptable, if not encouraged. For example, when I did some combat military medical training in San Antonio, Texas 2 years ago, the rudimentary desert toilets were all lined up very close to one another, not separated by walls of any kind. This was the first time that I was forced to publicly crap with strangers while staring at them in the face, and it was an unwritten “rule of manliness” to intentionally lose all grace and make as many loud noises as fast as possible from the moment you sat down on the throne. In fact, this was actually rewarded by comments like “Nice out!” or “Sweeet” or “Those MREs are givin’ me the shits too” – you know, to break the ice (I would suppose). It was cool to crap loud. It showed that you didn't give a shit (no pun intended). Yet here in the heads of Al Asad, with walls between the toilet seats, dignity and grace remain intact in just about half of our Marines, and many don't like to "drop off the kids" (as is the latest and greatest expression for pooing) while others are in their presence. The wise reader might think that my observations are perhaps just coincidence – that all this nonsense is merely in my head. Well I have considered this contingency, and that is why several times I have “pretended” to leave the head, opening, then shutting the door, while staying inside remaining ever so still. Sure as shit, within 3 seconds -“Splat! Plop! Plop!” Try it sometime and you'll see what I mean.

Some men attest that when they enter the bathroom alone to “do #2” and are interrupted by an intruder, they secretly pray that the intruder walks up to the urinal and not into a stall (to allow for a shorter bathroom stay so that they can wait until the intruder leaves before letting her rip). This commandment is null and void if the intruder happens to be a friend and you say hi before you both enter your designated stalls. This scenario, as often occurs here, allows for the two Marines to chat while crapping. When timed right, the small talk can coincide with the moment of release so as to never hear anything but the discourse. Other occurances that aren't timed right are usually met with laughter from both parties, depending on the noises made. Troublesome noises are often met with comments like "Dude, you gotta cut back on those damm protein shakes!"

For women I imagine bathroom encoutners become more complicated, I mean, since everyone enters a stall (except for those woman that just go to “powder their noses”, which I imagine only occurs in movies), who is to know how long they’ll stay in there? Do women wait a few seconds to see if it’ll be a short stay? I wonder. I guess this makes women at a disadvantage, which is too bad because I would hypothesize that women are even MORE self conscious about their "noises" than men.

Although this doesn't apply to the vast majority of Marines, some are offended when another fails to control their anal sphincter tone with finesse, restated, make a loud crap in the stall next to them. One Marine’s Uncle, Mr. Von Klepner, is one such individual. He says that every time he goes into a public restroom, sure as shit, someone comes in right next to him and makes the loudest, most mal-fragrant defecation ever. He calls it the “Von Klepner Curse”. Personally, I could care less how loud you crap next to me. I’ll likely never see your face because I’ll make sure to time my escape out of the bathroom in such a way as to avoid contact with you (another puzzling behavior pattern) and moreover, if you make noise, it gives me permission to make noise, as this is another unwritten rule - the misery loves company theory, or something of the sort. What is the point of this story you may ask?...let me explain…

I woke up this morning and on the way back from the DFAC (aka chow hall) one of my Marines and I looked up at the sky and noticed something, - clouds. They were white and fluffy and beautiful and he said “Wow, I never thought I’d take clouds for granted.” But when 2 months pass by without seeing one, you really do miss them. The sandstorms aren’t storms that involve clouds, just wind and sand. I began to think about all of the things I miss that I take for granted back home...using the sink’s tap water to brush my teeth for example (we have to use bottled water here every morning). Not having to wear shower shoes while showering. Stepping on carpet. Using real silverware, plates and glasses instead of plastic disposable ones. Having privacy in your bedroom. Having a quiet place to escape to. Hot showers that you can take for as long as you want (here we take “Navy showers” to conserve water. That means you turn the water on for 10 seconds, get wet, then turn the water off. Then you lather up with soap and shampoo, turn the water back on and rinse off for a minute with minimal water pressure, then get out.) Living in a clean environment (here everything is always dusty, even 2 hours after you dust), and then there are more abstract things that I miss, like human contact. I don’t mean anything provocative, just hugging for example. Back home in Hawai’i I hug and kiss all my friends, it’s just what we do. I realized the other day that I haven’t hugged anyone in almost 3 months, or even held someone’s hand. I also miss trees, and the sound they make when the wind runs through their branches or ocean waves and the sound they make when they crash. Anyway, we take a lot of things for granted, and perhaps one of the things I most take for granted back home, is being able to shit in your own bathroom, with privacy and be as loud as you want. (Didn’t think I’d tie it all together, did you???)

Soldier’s Angel Diana Scarfo, from Pembroke Pines, FL (a place I’ve visited many times), sent us a peculiar, yet amusing care package today. Among the items in it were an inflatable pool, inflatable pool toys, water guns and water balloons. We blew all of the things up and got excited at the mere notion of swimming, like we were kids again. Unfortunately, the base is under a water conservation order (we barely have enough water to shower) so we can’t use some to fill an entire pool. Nevertheless, the items in the box brought a lot of smiles and laughs to our Marines and perhaps one day I will post a picture of a bunch of us sitting together in the pool.

You see, it’s the little things we do in life that mean a world of difference to those around us. People don’t realize the repercussions of their actions and how they can affect others. Some of my closest friends and family do – like my sister for example, who in her most recent care package to me, she sent me comics and a few pictures of my niece Kiera – these made me laugh and smile, and seeing them at the start of my day really put me in a great mood, ready to tackle the challenges ahead of me. (Thanks K, loved the package!!!) I realize the importance of my words and actions every day and how they can influence others and I think this is one of my gifts. For example, the other day at the end of the workday everyone was tired, drained and feeling down as they rode the bus home to the barracks. I sprang up to the front and plugged in my IPOD and played some nonsensical 90s song that I knew would make everyone smile and laugh (the other day I played “Pump Up The Volume” and it made everyone laugh and sing.) Other days I’ll have 80s trivia. I’ll sit up front and play 80s music and people on the bus will have to guess the title and artist. Stupid, yet it makes them laugh and sets a good positive tone for the work day. Other times I’ll randomly show up in one of my guy’s shops with a box of Strawberry Oreos or a pack of water balloons, still other times I’ll motivate my Marines to go to the gym with me and get in a good workout, instead of sitting by themselves, smoking another butt and feeling bummed out. (My friend Billy often tells me that my mission here is a “Mission of Aloha”.) These small gestures are what keeps us, as human beings going. And if everyone around the world could really see how their thoughts, words and actions can affect others in a positive way, I bet that the world would be a much brighter place. Amen. (or as my friend Vic says, “Amen sister!”). So I guess the point of this entire blog entry might go something like this: “It’s ok to shit loud as long as you think about how all of your crap might affect others around you.”

The Speech, RJ’s ½ Birthday, The Scrapbook, My Space and the 50 Cal

One of the most difficult things about being a Doctor is having to tell someone that their friend or family member is dying. While no Doctor has given me this speech yet, I have seen enough episodes of ER to know that many Doctors have an empty, mindless, pre-meditated speech they use to “deliver the news” (one aspect of the show that IS true to life). I think they do this because they don’t want to ‘let it all in’, and it allows for a certain detachment of emotion, but I made a choice in Medical School to not ever completely detach myself. I don’t have a pre-meditated speech and when I had to inform one of my Marines that his father was in the ICU back in Hawai’i and was likely going to die, I decided to sit down with him, face to face, and speak softly and slowly to make sure he understood everything that was happening. I explained his dad’s condition to him and suggested he pack his things right away to fly out as soon as possible. He took it very well, and as he left I reaffirmed the prayer I made the night before I left for Iraq – that none of my friends or family get hurt while I am here, for I can’t think of a worse way to be a slave to time, than being halfway around the world waiting for flights home to get to a loved one who is desperately trying to hold on to their life.

Karen Zimmerman, one of my Soldier’s Angels, asked me via e-mail several questions a few weeks back, one of which was the date of my birthday. I let her know that Dec 19th I would turn 32 and on June 19th I received a package from her. When I opened it, I couldn’t believe what was inside – a birthday party! She said that she wanted to throw me a ½ Birthday party, so enclosed was party decorations, games (pin the tail on the donkey was especially fun), party favors, a birthday cake (made of Butterscotch Krimpets) and a wrapped up present – which was a National Geographic DVD on weather phenomenon. [which I loved]. It was the best and only ½ birthday I’ve ever had and I wanted to mention it in my blog!

Julia Hutchings is also a Soldier’s Angel of mine who sent me an amazingly heartfelt gift the other day. She made a scrap book of me and my squadron and used printed out color pictures from my blog and pictures of my squadron (which I’m not sure even how she obtained)! My sister also does scrap booking and through her I have a very fine appreciation of how time consuming the endeavor is. I have been proudly showing it to all of my Marines and I have it on display in the Medical lounge for all to see!

Still another Angel Crystal adopted a doctor bear named ‘RJ Jr.’ for me, complete with certificate. I have him standing on the ledge of my office to greet all of my patients as they walk in. It is the combined efforts of this organization, my friends and my family that have made this deployment both bearable (no pun intended) and at times enjoyable.

Working in the hospital has been an amazing experience for me. I get to help Iraqi and American Marines and Soldiers and keep my clinical and emergency skills sharp, but sometimes the best lessons I learn through the stories that come out of that place - stories of strength and hope. A young Marine was critically injured in an IED blast a few days ago. This Marine lived to serve his country. (The doctors found his dog tags, social security number and blood type tattooed on his chest.) He lost both of his legs and one of his arms in the explosion and was in a coma for a few days before eventually coming to in the ICU. He was unable to talk, but gestured for a pen and paper. He scribbled on the paper with his left hand as best he could a name and a password. The doctors and nurses looked confused. He then took a second piece of paper and wrote “This is my user name and password. Can you please log on to my My Space Profile and create a posting for me saying that it’s going to take a lot more than that to kill me!” Unbelievable. His next sentence was “I lost both of my legs didn’t I?”

This past week I went flying with my squadron to test some machine guns. It was good to get outside the perimeters of the base and to satisfy my dying curiosity for 3 months to know what lies beyond the walls. Well, let me tell you, there’s a lot of nothing! Sand and flat terrain as far as the eye can see. It was somewhat disappointing (lol) but one of my Marines asked me, “Would you like to help us test one of the guns?” So I stepped up and fired a bunch of rounds from the air on a target below. I never thought I’d be finding myself firing a 50 caliber machine gun from a helicopter in Iraq, but there I was. For a moment I felt like Rambo (except that Rambo would have hit the target instead of spraying rounds for about a mile in each direction… that gun really packed a wallop!). One of my Marines later asked me if while I was firing I screamed out “Die mother fuc***, die!” (lol). I said no, am completely against killing of any life whatsoever and although I’m not an aggressive person at all, after firing that thing I can understand that those words would be a completely appropriate comment for the moment. (Please don’t take offense or misunderstand). I just felt for a fleeting moment like a bad ass and no insurgent or terrorist was going to fu** with me!

Beneath the Surface

Up until today I have been writing about happy times in my blog. You see, I enjoy writing, and keeping this blog going has been something I’ve enjoyed doing. It does make me feel less alone when people post comments and it’s nice to know people out there are keeping track of what’s happening here. But here’s the caveat, my blog hasn’t been a completely accurate description of ALL of my thoughts on a day to day basis. It, for the most part, has left out my political opinions, my deep thoughts and my concerns. Instead it talks about such comical things as mouse traps and personal lubricant. I’ve done this because I know my mom has given this blog address to many of her friends and family, close and distant, and up until recently I’ve felt that it was pointless to worry everyone or talk about my darker thoughts. Yesterday, one of my friends called me out on this. He said that he didn’t enjoy reading my blog because it didn’t talk about any of my personal thoughts and instead he thought it was a popularity website, that I needed validation for what I’m doing. Well, here’s what I have to say to that.

Has anyone ever seen what a leg that’s been blown apart looks like up close? …A leg that sustained a blast injury to the thigh so severe that it was attached only by a few layers of skin? In the very recent past (I can’t disclose date for security reasons) the base wide announcement system came on in the middle of the afternoon “Attention Al Asad, Attention Al Asad, all trained medical personnel are to report to the Army Hospital immediately”. So without hesitation, I grabbed my gear, took my corpsmen and we were off. On the way to the hospital I asked myself what might be going on – a Mass Casualty? An accident on base? A drill? I also went over some emergency procedures in my head as it’s been a while since I was involved in a trauma scene and I was afraid of my personal inadequacies.

We arrived at the hospital to a mob scene. It was chaos. I identified one of the ER employees I knew amidst the crowd of docs, surgeons, nurses and corpsmen that were crowded into this relatively small Emergency Room. He said that a Mass Casualty Event occurred and we would be receiving casualties momentarily. I looked around to see who might be in charge of this scene and identified the charge nurse. I identified myself as a Physician and she said “Follow me.” She directed me towards bed 8. She said, “Ok, you’ll be in charge of this bed. Standby to receive a casualty”. I was like, “Holy Shit! I went from an innocent bystander to being in charge of someone’s life in the blink of an eye.” (Mind you, I'm in charge of the lives of all of my squadron, but usually they're not slipping away in front of me.) I tried to stay calm and I began to go over my emergency procedures in my head as I introduced myself to the other nurses that were at my bed looking to me for guidance. I made sure we all had a position / task to do to ensure there wasn’t any panic when the person arrived. This may seem a bit de-humanizing, but saving someone’s life when they’re slipping away before you takes focus and requires a calm, organized procedure. I was ready as my heart was pounding, and so was my team.

(I need to remain somewhat vague about the following details for security reasons, but if you have a weak stomach, please don’t read any further.)
Several soldiers came in (I can’t disclose their nationality), but because the casualties we received never made it to 8, my bed never got filled. I decided to offer my help in one of the trauma bays. I approached this unconscious male whose left leg was all but blown off. His Femur (thigh bone) was broke off just a few inches below his pelvis and his muscle and tissue were hanging on the gurney. Blood vessels were spurting blood out of this poor man as the surgeons raced to clamp each one. I started to let it all in – what this guy was going through - Was he a father? A husband? Was he in the wrong place at the wrong time? Why are we fighting this war anyway? But I quickly caught myself and tried to remain focused. Things were very chaotic (another trauma victim was being taken care of just 5 feet away from me). The nurse doing CPR was getting tired, so I offered to step in and take over. The ER doc in charge of this man knew he was slipping away. His blood pressure was falling and something needed to be done. So he decided to crack open his chest, exposing his heart and lungs, which he felt for any damage. He took a clamp and clamped the soldier’s aorta (a large blood vessel leaving the heart) to help support his blood pressure. It worked! Now that he was stable, within seconds, the next group of people stepped in – the Radiologists, the Surgeons, the nurses. It was all happening so fast. There were so many thoughts going through my head: “This poor guy might die right now…No one even knows who he is...I can’t believe the ER doc saved his life…How cool is it that we have such knowledge of medicine that because of our efforts (and God’s will), he made it. How else can I help? What should I do?” Focus RJ, Focus!

Within 5 minutes all of the soldiers were rushed off to surgery as quickly as they came in. One of them sustained a blast injury to his lower back and buttock, which was completely unrecognizable. The IED blew apart that entire section of his body and just left a hole where his rectum should have been. This made the room smell like smoke and stool. (A smell which pretty much tells you something terrible has happened) The others I never got to see. And I left, not knowing anyone’s name. We were told to clear out and we walked out of the hospital, with only our prayers to the soldiers that were hurt…

Everyday I wake up to the comfort of my Jersey cotton sheets. They provide me with comfort at the end of every day, but its false comfort really. As I start my day and walk out into the hot desert sun I look up and see several helicopters leaving the base perimeter to go on their mission. I think about the war, and why we’re here. I often wonder if one day the people of this planet will be able to all get along, despite their differences in culture, language and belief structures. I try to remember my sense of purpose and I think about God and how he has a plan for every one of us.

Every night, when I get off the bus and walk home in the dark under a beautiful starry sky, I think about my presence here, and if it’s legit. I have to trust that despite the opinions of those who may or may not believe in our President, someone is making the decisions that need to be made and he or she is doing the best possible job that they can do, based on what they know and with God looking down on them. You see, if I don’t believe in our cause, how can I possible motivate my Marines and Sailors everyday to do their job?

My mission is to take care of the men and women in my squadron, in addition to those I see in the hospital, and I’m doing just that. I was born an American, and despite everything that has occurred in my country’s history, both good and bad, I can only affect the here and now – today. I can only do my best to take care of everyone that’s out here – as a Doctor, and as a friend. This makes me proud. I do feel proud to be helping in this way. I am an American who knows that he can’t change the past, but one who also knows that my actions here are a reflection on my country, and I’d like to think that they reflect positively – especially to those who have any beefs against America or our presence here.

Now as I continue with my blog entries about Girl Scout cookies and water gun fights, remember - that's only half of RJ, only half of what he thinks and feels every day. Please don't assume that because I choose to write about happier moments that I am ignorant or that I don't think about the global picture. Trust me, I do.

Father's Day in Al Asad

To know RJ is to know that one of the things he doesn’t look forward to every year is Father’s Day. Without going into detail about why this particular holiday carries no special meaning for me, I decided that this year was going to be different. I decided that I was going to celebrate the day and wish other fathers I knew a Happy Father’s Day. I realized that one day in the not too distant future I would be having children of my own and that the day would probably take on new meaning when this happened, as I’m sure my sister can attest to. I quickly realized that the fathers I spoke to deeply miss their children and they each told me a story about their kids – like how their 7 month old boy looked into the web cam and smiled at his daddy’s face way across the miles (or so his father thought). Anyway, it made the day change from what would normally be just tolerable to somewhat pleasant.

To know RJ is to also know that one of his favorite pastimes is to eat out at fine dining restaurants. While the Outback Steakhouse in no way falls into this category, all things being relative, compared to the food I’ve been eating, the Outback was the relative equivalent of a Ruth Chris here in Al Asad. The restaurant decided to cater dinner for the base and it was worth the 45 minutes I waited in line with my other Flight Surgeon comrades to reap the benefits. I had a rib eye steak (which was not the usual Well Well temperature I had grown accustomed to- it was Medium!), I had the bloomin’ onion with its special sauce, I had calamari, and I had Carraba’s bread with their special olive oil and herbs. Then for my favorite part – dessert! I decided to double dessert it with both Amaretto swirl cheesecake and 5 layer double chocolate cake! It was decadant and I was stuffed afterwards. (They rolled us all out of the chow hall).

On the way out I took a picture next to a banner that members of Outback sent to us wishing us well. It was really nice and as a result, I may actually go to the restaurant back in the states once in a while, knowing that they supported us in this way. I had to forego my workout at the gym afterwards because I passed out into a 12 hour coma, but all in all, it was great, and a surprisingly nice end to one of my least favorite holidays.

PS There was a great article on Soldier’s Angels in the newspaper. If you get a chance, put this into your web browser to view it:

http://www.kcchronicle.com/articles/2007/06/12/news/local/doc466e49e2701
2f737724290.txt

A Day in the Life of Al Asad PART 1

It’s 10:15 and like one of Pavlov’s dogs I awaken to the sound of my electronic alarm on my digital watch. (3 beeps is usually all the watch will sound before I locate it and hit the off button). I sit up in bed and the old springs in my rack make enough of a squeak to make my sleeping roommate who works nights stir. I grab my towel and head for the showers. The clock starts ticking…30 minutes until the bus leaves.

I get to the sink, take out my toothbrush and at that moment realize for the 61st day in a row that I can’t use the sink water to brush my teeth. So half naked I walk out to the hall and grab one of the many bottled waters that line each windowsill…I get into the shower with my shower sandals and say a quick prayer that when I touch the water it will be hot and not cold. Right before I start I do a quick look to see who else is in the small closet-sized shower with me, ah, just 3 mosquitoes today, splat, splat, splat. After the shower comes the shave, and I ask myself, how is it that our policy states that we can use the sink water to make open cuts to our face shaving with the water, but we can’t brush our teeth with it. Anyway, I let it go. I take a quick look in the mirror to see if my 8 pack is coming in then back to the room to dress. Quietly I re-enter my dark room. By memory I can tell exactly where the nail is that I hang my towel. I put on my skivvies and my Flight Suit then I wait a few seconds until the air conditioner makes its really loud noise (it occurs in 3 minute cycles). Once it does, I sit on my bed to put on my boots (remember the bed squeaks really loud and I don’t want to wake my roommate with every move). I grab my backpack, walk out of the room and say “Good Morning” to the guard standing duty at the door. I sign out with him to work and sit out front to wait for the bus…3 minutes to spare, but alas, the bus is late again.

This is one of my moments. Every chance that I am waiting for something I either play some nice relaxing music on my IPOD, like Jack Johnson or I go through all the things that I’m grateful for in my head (got that from The Secret). This sets a positive tone for the day and makes me appreciate all that I have in my life.

The bus arrives and I make my way out into the sun – it hits you like a ton of bricks. Do you know when in the dead of summer, you drive to the mall on a nice sunny day to go shopping? Well, do you know how when you return from a long day of shopping and get back into the car and since you forgot to shut off the A/C when you shut off the car, it gives you a full blast of super hot air in your face when you first turn on the car? That’s what the heat is like here every day. –But I don’t mind, I’m still in happy Jack Johnson land, smiling as I walk to the bus.

After a brief 10 minute bus ride and 1 Ugandan checkpoint where I flash my ID card, I arrive at work. I greet my corpsmen and walk to “Skinny’s”, the self-appointed nickname of our mini chow hall where we all eat at. There are several treats to look forward to at Skinny’s. First, the chow is either pretty good (Fried Chicken, BBQ Beef Brisket, Mac and Cheese, Corn on the Cob) or a combo of REALLY bad items (Sweet & very Sour mystery meat with cauliflower and red beets). But the real treat is to see if they have the Otis Spunk Meyer Cookies (White Chocolate Macadamia Nut is my favorite). Then we sit and there’s a randomly placed super nice plasma screen TV mounted in the middle of this rickety chow hall. 90% of the afternoon time some form of UFC or wrestling is on, but the other 10% there’s a movie playing. (2001: A Space Odyssey, Old School, Signs, 50 First Dates – the mix is very eclectic and it’s always a crap shoot what’s coming on next, which kind of makes it exciting). I finish lunch in 20 minutes flat, talk with some of my Marines and head back to my office (a 5 minute walk away). On my way back I look out at the Flight line and see how many helicopters are getting ready to launch.

Turning on both computers in my sick bay takes about 5 minutes before everything loads up, and this gives me a chance to do some of my daily routines. First, I grab a cold bottle of water from the Fridge, being mindful to replace it with another bottle we keep next to the fridge (this is an especially challenging thing for me to remember because if you know me at all you know I’d always take the last few drops then put the Britta pitcher back in the Fridge empty) and take a Propel packet to dump in it…Lemon? Berry? Nah, today Kiwi-Strawberry. Then, I take off my pistol and hang it on the wall. Next, I make some fresh coffee, but usually only drink ½ cup of the pot I make. (I just like the smell of it). Then, I grab my vitamins to take. While swallowing, I look around at all the pictures I have hung on my walls, of my friends, family and Soldiers Angels. I crack a grateful smile and am reminded of my purpose. Next I rip off my day-by-day learn Hawaiian calendar. Today, the word of the day is kokua, which means to help. Finally I get turnover from my corpsmen on the night’s events. Now, the afternoon is about to begin…!

The Wall, The CASH, a Lack of Shrimp and SIGNS

Greetings family and friends!

First off I want to congratulate my sister on another great magazine article which was recently published. Good luck on your future TV premiere. If you enjoy wine, check out her website at www.trywine.net.!

Next I want to take the chance to thank everyone for their gifts, cards, letters and care packages. It really is nice to look forward to checking the mail every day. My friend Arlene in Hawaii sent me a great postcard from a Sandbar that my friends and I always go out to on Sundays. Thanks Arlene! Some of the other gifts in the picture were from the Soldier's Angels organization members. Roger Godseken, my personal Angel, sent me the workout book - and trust me, I won't be returning unless I have Abs like that! Another Angel's 83 year old mother hand knitted the angel that I'm holding (which I hung up on my desk). Still others had their kids make my office cookies (which were delicious). The organization is trying to send a postcard of support from every state in the US. We are making a wall of these postcards in Medical so everyone can see that people all across the US are thinking and praying for us. So far we're only missing 5 states!

So this past week was a little slow for me. I couldn't exactly pinpoint why I was in a rut, but all week I was kind of dragging. I still worked out every day, still saw all my patients, did all my work, and even finished the 3rd and final season of Desperate Housewives, but still nothing seemed to stir any emotion in me. Then today it hit me. To know RJ is to know that his favorite food is shrimp! I love it. Any way you serve it, hot, cold, grilled, sauteed, fried, schrimp scampi, shrimp gumbo, shrimp (ok, you get the idea Forrest Gump) - suffice to say, I really like it. I realized that every Wednesday was Surf & Turf night here in Al Asad, but since the chow hall near us closed, I haven't been able to make it to Surf & Turf night, and as a result, haven't been able to eat any shrimp! (They don't bring the good food like shrimp to our small satellite chow closet). If this truly IS the reason for my slightly unenthused demeanor, I have 2 more weeks to endure before they re-open it. [In all seriosuness, I'm just kidding. I often think about how lucky I am to have hot food served to me everyday, especially when there are many Marines fighting this war eating MREs every day, or worse, not eating at all.]

The CASH or Combat Army Support Hospital's ER sent out an e-mail that any interested doctor could volunteer to work shifts. I think this might be an exciting opportunity to break up some of the monotony, to help out people even more than I am now and to even keep my clinical skills sharp. I'm a little apprehensive because I haven't worked in an ER for quite some time. But I'm optimistic that this opportunity could prove to be worthwhile and meaningful, so I'm going to give it a shot this week. I think it'll open my eyes up to a lot more that's happening out there. I'll keep you posted on how this works out.

Last night I had my first Saturday night here. Let me explain. Since I've gotten here I've been pretty much working most of the time. Most Saturday nights back in Hawaii (and all my life for that matter) have been spent relaxing, kicking back on the sofa or going out with friends, but forgetting about work. I haven't really done that here and so last night, my corpsman by chance turned on the television that just got hooked up, and AFN (the International Channel that gets broadcasted out here) was playing one of my favorite movies - SIGNS, with Mel Gibson and Jaquin Phoenix. To know RJ is to know he also likes Alien Movies (Independance Day, Aliens, Taken, etc.) So I decided to shut down my computers, turn off the clinic lights, and my Corpsman and I just sat on our couch, put our feet up, and did nothing but watch the movie. I got so lost in the movie, that it felt like I was watching it from back home in my living room. The escape was nice and it was the first 'Saturday Night' I had here.

Well, off to bed to rest up for another exciting week!

I enclosed another pic of a recent sandstorm for your viewing enjoyment as well!

The Shamal is coming! The Shamal is coming!

So I woke up to another odity this morning. As I exited my room and walked into the hall I noticed once again that the light coming in from the windows was dark orange. It was eerie and I thought that it was just another sandstorm, but I was mistaken, this was a Shamal (pronounced shuh-mall). A Shamal is a big, low lying, widespread sandstorm that lasts for several days. This is to be distinguished with a Haboob (pronounced hah-boob) which is a tall powerful sandstorm that passes rather quickly. Rumor has it and Wikkipedia has written it that there are 3 Shamals that occur between the end of May and the end of June. They signify two things. First, that the seasons are about to change, and second, when the third and most powerful of the Shamals passes through (expected at the end of June), its going to get very very hot here. [I was apparently misguided because I already thought it WAS very very hot here. I was wrong.]

SO this Shamal has covered everything with a thick vanere of sand to the extent that I just took a shower and the water running down off of my hair was orange. People's flight suits are orange. People's skin is orange. My buggers...are orange! (Maybe a little too much information, sorry). But as you know, I love weather phenomenon like this so I think my orange hair is cool.

Another large camel spider sprinted its way into our building, which makes 3 in the last week!

I've made it to season 3 of Desperate Housewives! When I get off work I watch a few episodes before bed. The season finale of season 2 was really good, now I'm catching up with season 3. This sounds like a pathetic way to spend my nights (I'm still working out though), but I'm hooked and it makes me laugh. Will Susan ever get with the plumber? Will he ever come out of his coma? Will Brie VandeCamp ever reunite with her gay son, or have another nervous breakdown? And what about Mrs. Solice's baby? and Carl cheating on her with the maid? Hmmm..... my life is sad. I used to do exciting things in Hawaii and now I live vicariously though a TV show. I guess I forget sometimes that I'm living here in a warzone and my job can sometimes be vicarious too.

Anyway, been keeping busy and life is good. Taking care of my Marines and passing the time. Another case of the mysterious Iraqi rash today with one of my Marines....oh, and the picture...one of my Soldier's Angels sent me Marine and Navy rubber duckies, so we played with them for a little while (is that weird?).

Dimple In the Chin...A Devil Within

Ok, 31 years that I've had a cleft chin (aka a dimple) and not once until today have I heard the expression "You know what they say - a dimple in the chin, a devil within". Does this really exist or is someone just getting clever?

Not too much exciting stuff going on here. Two big camel spiders craweled their way into the Maintenance Building last night. I witnessed this and they were fascinating to watch. They ran around in circles really really fast until a Marine came up and prevented them from biting anyone any longer.

I got a great carepackage today from my friend Billy. It had a DVD with some nice video of Hawaii in it. It was great to see my friends again. I also got some great flags from the Soldeir's Angels organization, which I immediately hung up. I hung the flags from Ireland and Hawaii (since I'm of Irish decent and since I now consider Hawaii my home).

I'm midway through Season 2 of Desperate Housewives (I know, but it has been a very slow week here and it was the only way to stop me from going crazy).

I have lots of mosquito bites.

And it's very hot.

And that about sums it up right now.