The Heat Is On!

No words needed.
But I'll give 'em to ya anyway -
it feels like the earth is burning here.
145.9 degrees today.

Holes

Every morning on my way to lunch I walk past a sandy hill of dirt that has a large hole in it about the size of a peach. And every morning I wonder what lives inside of it, perhaps a snake or a rat, or maybe just a few field mice. I wonder how far down the cavern goes. Although every other Marine walks right past it, maybe even on it without giving a second thought to it, every morning I get the urge to have a glimpse of what’s inside - like a moth to a flame. I considered sticking something in the hole to drive the inhabitant(s) out. I also considered dumping a bottle of water inside it, but realized this would probably be appreciated by the inhabitants. So I do nothing. But the curiosity is killing this cat, or it was until late last night…

It was a typical Al Asad evening, clear, starry night, 80 degrees, helicopters flying in the distance testing their flares, like fireworks at a summer carnival. The bus ride home was no different. We swap bus drivers every week and each has their own style of music on their ipod. This allows for quite the variety of musical selections depending on who is driving, from 2-Pac to 2 Live Crew, Pink to Pink Floyd, Alice In Chains to Alice Cooper, Billy Ocean to Billy Joel, Bob Dylan to Bob Marley, Jack Johnson to Jack Ingram (I’ll stop before Dorothy yells at me “Alright Rose! We get it! Different types of music!)

ANYWAY, I arrived at the Barracks at precisely 0138, so goes the 8 minute trip, and my short walk to the entrance in the dark was accompanied by a strange noise. I stopped for a moment, but continued on as strange noises are somewhat commonplace out here. I entered Barracks 207 and greeted the duty as always. He was watching a DVD on his computer, like most do at that hour. I slowly opened the door to my room, so as not to make a noise and wake up my roommate, and began my nightly routine. In this exact order: I first took approximately 6 steps over to my bunk in the dark, avoiding the Yankee Candle kept on the floor next to my shoes (we light it to keep the room smelling good). I then click on the headlamp to create a small amount of red light just over my rack. I take off my gun and holster, undo the laces of my shoes and place them in the other corner, take everything out of my uniform (flashlight, ID, sunglasses, pocket knife, Listerine Spray, ipod and headphones and uniform cover), then take off my uniform, then socks and t-shirt, which go into my laundry bag hanging on the wall, then I put on my favorite tee-shirt (an old beat up grey jersey I got in San Diego), then head to the bathroom to continue my nightly routine (I’ll spare you those details).

On the way back from the bathroom (located outside the barracks) I again heard a noise, as if something was moving in the dirt 10 feet away from me around the back of the building. I stopped and with my superpower hearing (my friends will tell you I have freakishly good hearing) I listened, but heard nothing. I shook it off to reassured myself that Michael Meyers or Jason wasn’t about to come around the corner and kill me and I continued back inside and back in my room. I crept into bed trying to slowly increase the amount of pressure to the bedsprings to avoid them making a really loud squeak that causes my roommate Clint to stir a bit. I turned off the headlamp and laid there in the dark listening to the sound of the air conditioner making its obnoxious buzzing/humming sound.

15 minutes later, in a half slumber, I heard a disturbing noise. Throughout the night my brain hears hundreds of noises and filters most of them out (helicopters and jets flying overhead, the air conditioner changing gears, the door opening and closing, my roommates getting ready for work, etc.), but occasionally, a noise occurs that you know doesn’t belong and your brain recognizes this and alerts you to it – like being certain that you’re alone in the middle of the woods and hearing a twig break on a full moon, camping by yourself on Friday the 13th or something. Anyway, MY noise was coming from straight ahead of my rack, near the A/C. It was a bang that caused me to immediately open my eyes wide and listen close. Then, a second later, I heard it again, only this time it kept on making noise. To describe it is to describe taking several piles of dirt in your hands and slowly letting it drop to a hard floor in a quiet room, but this wasn’t just a shift of the A/C, or a random occurrence, in fact, there was nothing random about this. It started, then picked up, then I heard a scurrying sound coming from the A/C unit, then more dirt dropping on my floor, then a piece of cardboard falling to the ground. At that moment, I knew something was trying to break through my window into my room!

As the noise persisted, taking a second or two pause every now and again, I yelled out to my sleeping roommate, “Yo, are you hearing this????” He said “Yeah”, but being that he was on the other side of the room in the opposite corner of the A/C, he was much less worried. I on the other hand, was on the same side right up against the A/C. I knew I had to take action. My flashlight was too far above me to reach, and my gun was also out of reach. I sprang from my bed and ran to the door to turn on the lights! As the lights went on, the sound stopped, and all over my storage bin and the floor was dirt that had come through the A/C, piles of it! And one of the pieces of board that blocked the A/C from the back of the window was on the ground. I knew at this instant that either a large rat or a snake was trying to burrow its way into our room through a hole it had made. I had to act fast, but didn’t want to go near the window, so I took a broomstick and banged the A/C, trying to draw the creature out, but to no avail, there was dead silence. Well I knew I couldn’t just go back to bed, especially with a hole there, and my roommate wasn’t concerned, so I took a sheet and stuffed it all the way in the hole to block any entrance into my room and went confidently back to bed.

This morning on the way to lunch I once again walked past the hole I see every day. I paused momentarily to forge a truce between me and the inhabitants of the hole. Just as I was curious what was inside their hole, they were curious what was in the hole they found last night. But our truce is, as long as they let go of their curiosity and respect my boundaries, I will let go of my curiosity and respect their boundaries. We’ll see tonight if they uphold this truce…

In other news, it was reportedly 120 degrees today in the shade and 138 in the sun. It feels like the earth is burning. It’s very hot.

Finally, I want to wish my best friend Jan Good Luck and Godspeed on her move tomorrow from Bloomington, IN to Philadelphia, PA! Be safe and have fun Jan!

When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get Going!

RJ's rut lasted about 10 days during which time he finished off the Sopranos, watched Season 1 of Prison Break, moped around feeling kind of bummed out, complained a little (which is more than usual since he rarely complains), didn't call home or family, didn't post to the Soldier's Angels website and finally lost sight of the big picture and the importance of things. It pretty much sucked, but the good news is, it's over! Today I woke up and realized that there are only 86 days left and that's not too shabby. I still have some important work to do here and I've done great work so far, so I'm happy. And it's ok that I was in a little rut, everyone goes through them here, and if 10 days of de-motivation is it for me, I'll take it.

Today when I walked into the chow hall something was diferent. Music was playing. I love music, pretty much all kinds but a particular song was playing that is also one of my mom and I's favorite songs. "When The Going Gets Tough, The Tough Get Going" by Billy Ocean. It brought back such a great memory of when I was a kid and my mom and my best friend Jan's mom, took me, Jan, her sister Lynn and my sister Kelly to the movies one afternoon by the Lehigh Valley Mall (if memory serves) to see one of my favorite movies, "The Jewel of the Nile". For a brief instant, I remembered the video, where Kathleen Turner, Michael Douglas and Danny Devito are all in white tuxes on stage singing the background chorus as Billy Ocean sings the song, and there are clips of the movie that flash in the video too. It was as clear as day. I looked in my IPOD (which has about 7000 random songs, of which I listen to about 20) and lo and behold, it was there, so I listened to it on the way to work. Anyway, as I stood in line for my spaghetti I was lip sinking the words and I suddenly found my rut was replaced with some refreshed mojo. I felt like Michael Douglas in the middle of the Middle East on some adventure. Pretty cheesy, huh? But watching that movie as a child I can still remember thinking to myself, "I bet I'll never make it to the Middle East in my lifetime. I wonder what a place like that is like". Well, 16 years later I finally have the answer, "R.J., it's hot and sandy". Granted, I haven't really "seen" the Middle East and I bet there is a land of culture and treasure here just like in the movie. I regret that I may never see that, but at the very least I can hunt for "Al Johara".

I've been playing this game with some of my Officer colleagues that keeps us going every day. It's stupid, but its been passing the day. I started it 6 months ago. I'd name the title of an 80s song to a friend and they would have to guess the artist. They have 24 hours to think of the answer, and are not allowed to use the internet. They have 2 lifelines, a hint and a phone a friend (which here means tapping your buddy beside you on the shoulder and asking him). I've stumped my guys on such songs as "I Can Dream About You", "Jeopardy", "Let The Music Play", "Perfect Way", and "Voices Carry". Sometimes we ask challenging several part questions like "Hazy Shade of Winter" was sung by what group, was featured in what 80s movie and who was the lead actor? Or in Rockwell's song "Somebody's Watching Me", what male vocalist was singing in the back during the chorus? My questions today was: "In the Eurythmics Greatest Hits Album, an album that almost everyone had, you know, with the dude in the red suit and Annie Lenox and her bleached hair behind him, name 3 songs from the 80s that made it into the top 10 other than 'Sweet Dreams (Are Made Of This)', keeping in mind the album was released in 1991.

I guess just passing the midway point here in the deployment, working hard and going to the gym just isn't cutting it anymore, you need to think of creative ways to keep your mind active (Jan - I'm still reading your book) and do things that are fun (I've beat my corpsmen 4 times at Risk and I don't think they want to play with me anymore). So for me that means that I'll listen to a stupid Billy Ocean song once in a while, or think of silly 80s trivia (if you guys know any obscure 80s songs, lemme know), or my personal favorite, sometimes late at night, when I'm the last one to get back to the barracks, I'll stay outside in the dark for 10 minutes blasting my IPOD and dancing to myself in the dark while lip syncing words to cheesy 90s music like The BackStreet Boys. SSShhhhh. That one will be our little secret. "I want it that way....tell me why....ain't nothing but a heart ache...."

RISK

Today is a monumentous day!... As a freshman in college I remember coming out of class one sunny day when a very gentle voice whispered into my ear, “Are you interested in signing up for a free credit card from Citibank? Today only we’re offering a special gift with it” (As if SHE was the gift to take home). Young, impressionable R.J. turned around and saw a young, vibrant, voluptuous blonde who could have just as easily said “Would you be interested in a lifetime of debt and mental anguish from poor investments with money you don’t have?” and I still would have replied with glee “Sure!” Well, that was also a very monumentous day for R.J., as it was 13 years ago to date and what started at a credit limit of 3 digits, quickly morphed into a 5 digit limit with late fees, over limit fees and past due bills. It was a futile battle that I had just about given up on, and although many “charges” were for college expenses (does beer and bourbon count as expenses?), legitimate graduate school tuition and expenses in Miami (hey, I had to wear $300. designer jeans in Miami, how else would I ever have gotten offered that modeling gig that ended up paying me 50 bucks?), medical school expenses and so on. But today, for the first day in 13 years, I have paid off ALL of my credit card debt. All 3 cards I own are paid off entirely (actually overpaid with a slightly negative balance) and my money is now automatically being put into Savings without me even doing a thing. I know my friend Jan and sister Kelly will be proud to read these words. Now granted, RJ is a spender and believes that money burns a whole in your pocket – that you may as well spend it while you’re alive and enjoy it – but I promise, from this day forward, after I return home to Hawaii and buy a new SUV and jet ski to tow on the back of it, I’ll save every penny!

This past week was very boring, and it was really a challenge to stay motivated and energetic. I worked out, did some paperwork, watched a movie and I saw some patients – even performed minor surgery and took a Hemangioma off of someone’s head, but nothing seemed to get me energized. I’m not sure why. I guess its ok to have very dull, lackluster weeks like that. The highlight of the week occurred last night when I hijacked a board game that I used to play often as a child and played it with my corpsman…RISK, The Game of Global Domination! It was actually very fun and good to do something different like that. That’s one of the hardest things about this place I think, working every day and not having any time off. Even with the time off we do have, there’s really no place to go to get peace and quiet. There’s always jets and helicopters flying overhead, or some announcement coming over the base PA system. You’re always surrounded by other people too, and while I consider myself an extrovert, sometimes, as even the happiest of married couples will attest, it’s nice to just be alone, without anyone around you.

Today in the mail I got sent a care package from Soldier's Angel Cindy in San Pedro, CA. It was a little Irish bear. I know my mom will love it as much as I do (she's still trying to figure out how to post a comment to this blog - I love ya mom!) Thanks Cindy, you put a smile on my face today.

Well, that's it for now. There is nothing insightful or entertaining for me to write this time. Maybe you all can help me figure out what kind of SUV to buy when I get back to Hawai'i,...any recomendations???

Got Milk?

When I had just graduated high school, my best friend Jan and I backpacked through Europe for a month with nothing more than a Eurail Pass, a few years of some foreign languages we picked up in high school and a dream of seeing the world. I was only 17, and that trip was life-changing. I learned more and I grew up more in that one month than in all the years of my childhood combined. During the plane ride home I can remember my thoughts as if it were just yesterday. I had a newfound appreciation for life and the little things that most of us take for granted. For example, a hot meal in front of me, the clean clothes I was wearing, the roof over my head, my friends and my family, and most of all my health. What’s upsetting is that it took a trip like that to discover my appreciation for those things, an appreciation that we shouldn't NEED to be reminded of. Rare is the individual who truly appreciates what he or she has, but I aspire to be that individual every day. Much like my trip to Europe, this ‘trip’ to Iraq is teaching me a newfound appreciation for things once again…

Life is short and people die unexpectedly, as I will soon explain. And as morbid as this may sound, we waste what little precious time we have with one another over pointless arguments. Instead of enjoying the time we have with one another, we live our life in stress and we get upset about things over which we have no control. We get mad when our partner comes home late for dinner, instead of being appreciative that he or she is working to provide money for the food that’s on the table. We yell at the office printer when it jams instead of being grateful that we’re not copying our notes by hand like they used to. We get pissed off when our car breaks down and requires maintenance instead of being thankful that we have our own transportation. I wonder where this complacency about life comes from and I wonder why it takes such dramatic events such as a Doctor telling you that you only have weeks to live or a trip to Europe or even a deployment to a war zone for someone to recognize how good he really has it (myself no exception).

I walk around this base and although there are no roses in sight, I stop to smell them every chance I get. I look up at the clouds whenever they roll by and I smile. I look in the mirror every morning and I am grateful that God has given me another day. A shower with hot water and good water pressure makes me smile – it’s not a daily chore, but a gift. I no longer look at my e-mail Inbox as another thing on my ‘to do list’, but rather as a list of comforting thoughts - that somewhere out there in the world, some of my friends are thinking about me and want to send me their greetings. I don’t exercise at the gym because I have to or because I’d feel guilt if I didn’t or because my doctor told me to, I do it because I’m grateful that I have a strong body that is capable of exercise, remembering that while I may choose not to run, there are soldiers with amputated limbs who don’t have that choice, soldiers that gave their life so that I could make that choice. Sometimes we wake up on the wrong side of the bed, and ok – I get it – everyone has bad days, but all things being relative, stop yourself for a minute next time and ask yourself how bad your day really is. Are the things that are upsetting you really worth getting so stressed over? How often do we stop to smell the roses? Moreover, how often do we stop to be grateful for the things that others do for us? When is the last time you did something nice for your spouse/roommate/friend/neighbor/partner not because it was their birthday or anniversary or because you “owed them a favor”, but just because you wanted to tell them, “I appreciate you. I appreciate that you are a part of my life.” I know the Soldier’s Angels reading this do this all the time, but wouldn’t the world be a much brighter place if everyone in it did that?

One of the best parts about being a Doctor is some of the wonderful news you get to tell people. “Congratulatons, you’re pregnant!” or “You’ll be happy to know, it’s not cancer”, or even “Your physical came back normal, you’re as healthy as a horse” (are horses really that healthy?). But sometimes, the great news can come in stranger ways. One of my Marines has an ex-girlfriend who is pregnant with his child (he doesn’t mind me sharing this story). She has been demanding child support for this unborn child and to my Marine’s distress; she has been unwilling to communicate with him in a healthy way. He tries to call, to work things out and to discuss the situation, but he says that she won’t cooperate. So in chatting with him I asked how pregnant she was. He said that he wasn’t sure, but she was due any day. I asked about when he last saw her, and he told me it was the day before he moved to Hawaii, which was also the last time that they had intercourse - late August of last year. With my wheels turning, I took out my Obstetrical wheel to go over the dates of this pregnancy, and lo and behold, his ex-girlfriend was 45 weeks pregnant!! Needless to say, being physiologically impossible, I gave him some wonderful news that was a first for me, “Congratulations, this ISN’T your baby!” He was so relieved and overjoyed (as he is very young, this was not a planned pregnancy and he was always so careful). It turns out, the ex had been seeing other guys during the “difficult period” proceeding their ‘act’, and the baby (poor little thing) did not belong to my Marine.

Unfortunately, when the pendulum swings all the way to the right, there’s no place left for it to swing but to the left and that’s exactly what happened. The next day I had to tell the same Marine that his mother’s lung cancer had come back and had metastasized to her brain, that she had chosen not to undergo chemo again, and that soon she would not be able to recognize him (as her mental status was deteriorating). She was going to die. I actually spoke to his mom on the phone and promised her that I would do everything in my power to reunite her with her son, so they could spend some quality time together before her demise. She thanked me, and then started to cry. It was difficult… all around, and to boot, Marine policy usually states that unless you’re knocking on death’s door, you can’t take emergency leave. Well, if that were the case, he’d see her when she was unconscious, and that’s not how I wanted him to remember his mother. So, with a little bit of finagling on my part, he is now on a plane to go home and spend 2 weeks with his mom…

Secretly I’ve always dreamt about going to culinary school. In fact, although I’ve never told anyone this, I sometimes have thought that I made the wrong decision going into medicine. I’ve always wanted to open up my own restaurant, be the head chef and write the menu. I was thinking about naming it “R.J.’s” or “R.J.’s Bar & Grill”. Now don’t get me wrong, I like medicine, but I remember a long time ago I sat down at the Steak & Ale in Bethlehem, PA with my mom while I was attending college and I told her I was changing majors (I was International Business at the time). She asked to what and I told her to Pre-Med, but that I was also considering Restaurant Management and Culinary School. I remember my mom’s words to a tee “Oh, be a Doctor…! You can cook on the side!” Well, I have no regrets about that decision, and it was good advice mom, but I just sometimes wonder what it would’ve been like if I wasn’t a Doctor. Every time I daydream about this “alternate reality” I wonder if I “missed” my calling. And then a day like today comes along, when I know I’ve made a real difference in someone’s life and I stop doubting myself. Moreover, if my sole purpose for being a Doctor was to lead me down this path to this moment so that I could get this Marine home to spend 2 more weeks with his mom, then I know it was worth it. When I think of his mom, her cancer and the fact that she woke up one morning and was told that she’d only have a few weeks to live, it reaffirms my desire to appreciate life and be grateful for what we have…

..PS… thank you everyone for the Strawberry Oreo cookies.

Independance Day and The Big D

““We hold these truths to be self-evident, that all men are created equal, that they are endowed, by their Creator, with certain unalienable Rights, that among these are Life, Liberty and the Pursuit of Happiness.” This philosophy has held true for 231 strong years due to the sacrifices of our forefathers and those of us honored to wear the uniform of our nation today. While we reflect upon the importance of our Independence Day, it is important to remember that what we have asked the Iraqis to do is no easy task. It wasn’t easy 231 years ago as our democracy came to life. The same holds true today in Iraq.” – W.E. Gaskin, Commanding General, Multi-National Forces, July 3rd, 2007

For anyone that has ever visited Bethlehem, PA, you’ll know that there are two times of the year when the fireworks launched over the Lehigh River are spectacular. The first is in August during Music Fest, and the second is on the 4th of July. I guess there’s just something amazing about fireworks that never gets old, no matter how quickly we grow up. Perhaps Roger Godseken put it best “It must be the male thing about watching stuff blow up!” Anyway, Al Asad is a far cry from Bethlehem, and the most fireworks I saw was during our July 4th picnic when I set a Strawberry Marshmallow on fire with a toothpick and a lighter (incidentally, toasted Strawberry Marshmallows aren’t as good as the plain kind). But I can still remember some of the best July 4ths of my life...

Last year in Hawai’i I watched the fireworks over Kaneohe Bay as some of my friends like Billy, Jacintha, Josh and I sat on the shores of Oahu. The summer prior to that my friend Victor and I drove cross country from Washington State to Pensacola, FL as I was about to start Flight Surgery School. In Nevada, we watched the fireworks from one of the top floors in a suite of the Belagio Hotel in Las Vegas! (Remember the food I ordered that night, V?) The summer before that, my good friend Anthony flew out to Washington State to visit me, as I just began my Internship at Naval Hospital Bremerton. I remember that weekend well because I was on call for my first Ob-Gyn shift, working the night shift in Labor & Delivery and there was a freakish amount of pregnant mothers that came to the hospital in labor. I delivered a record 7 babies in one shift! (Talk about trial by fire!) Anyway, I came home dirty, smelly and covered in amniotic fluid and we opened up a bottle of Veuve Clicquot champagne (my favorite) and watched as the neighborhood kids set off fireworks that would just cast a shadow over the majestic Cascade Mountains.

Perhaps the fondest memories of the 4th involve the times that my best friend Jan, my sister Kelly and I would sit in front of the Bethlehem library and watch the July 4th show in Bethlehem, PA. Although the fireworks were spectacular, I remember sitting on a blanket next to Jan and Kelly and thinking about how happy I was. I felt so fortunate and thankful to be among such good company. I felt love. I also felt proud to be an American, without fully knowing what that pride meant yet. I remember becoming overwhelmed with emotion and trying my hardest not to start crying (I sometimes shed tears when I get overcome with emotion – yeah, I watched ‘Beaches’ and ‘Titanic’ and cried at the end of both, I’m man enough to admit it, you want a piece of me? Let’s go…!).

So all this pride and nationalism makes me wonder, at what age do we forget? At what age are men no longer created equal? When does prejudice take root and all of a sudden a man no longer has the liberty to pursue happiness, but instead is forced to succumb to restrictions of their ‘unalienable rights’ based on their gender, color, race or sexual orientation? At what point are an individual’s rights bestowed upon them not by the Creator but by Society? Part of Independence Day is to serve as a reminder of the way our country is supposed to be. It is a day to celebrate the ideal that our Forefathers fought to strive for. The United States we live in however is wrought with prejudice, discrimination, acts of hate and violence because of our own differences. I hope those 7 babies I delivered, now at the age of 3, can learn to overcome the challenges of our socio-politico-infrastructure and act in accordance with the idyllic principles that cause us to celebrate this day with fireworks and champagne.

As for the Ugly Angels and I, we had a July 4th picnic that consisted of hot dogs and hamburgers, and we all ate in the chow hall that my corpsman and I decorated with decorations sent to us by the SA organization. It was really nice, until 1800. I decided to go down to the main chow hall on base to see what they were offering. It was spectacular! They featured traditional BBQ fare – steaks, burgers, baked beans, corn on the cob, potato salad, fruit salad and celebratory cakes that said “Proud To Be American” (but unlike JFK, who admitted to all of Germany that he was a jelly donut when he added the “Ein” before Berliner in his faithful speech in ‘63, the Middle Eastern bakers here left out the “An” before American).

Anyway, I got my food and sat down and I suddenly lost my appetite. (Which for me is very peculiar since I’m always hungry) Within minutes I felt a tightening sensation in the left upper quadrant of my abdomen and despite the noise level of the bustling chow hall, I heard a loud rumble in my stomach. Being great at foreign languages (I have a double minor in Spanish and German from college), I quite easily deciphered the foreign tongue. It said “RJ - You have exactly 5 minutes to get to the head before the fireworks are going to launch!”. So I picked up my tray and headed for the exit with haste! I speed-walked back to the barracks while clenching my Gluteal muscles tight! Then I ran to the can and with not a second to spare, met Von Klepner himself!

This trip was definitely not about maintaining social graces. It was beyond my control. After a few seconds I thought, “well that wasn’t so bad”, but much in the way that a few seconds before a great fireworks show is about to begin they launch a test firework (you know, the one that makes a loud noise, then you can’t see it, then it flashes white for a split second high in the sky with a loud bang, letting everyone know the “Big Show” is about to begin), well my big show, “The Big D”, had only just begun!

That initial trip to the bathroom my anus got confused and thought it was my urethra and I lost about a gallon of fluid. As I made a bi-hourly trip to the head for the next 6 hours, I lost another gallon at least! I had cyclic cramps every few minutes that had me bent over in pain. It was awful. (Women I have a new appreciation for the cramps associated with your "Curse") Of course, being a Doctor, I was fortunate in that I could quickly diagnose myself with what MUST HAVE BEEN Pancreatitis, Liver Failure and a bleeding Gastric Ulcer. I gave myself about a few hours to live, in addition to an anxiety attack. All night I tossed and turned, sweating, then freezing, then sweating again. By morning I was so weak and dehydrated I could barely move. I asked my roommate who was leaving for work to send one of my corpsmen down to help me. He got to work and forgot – yes, forgot as I was lying desperately back at the barracks! So by 11:00 I forced myself to get up and take the bus to Medical. My corpsmen saw me and immediately wanted to start an IV to give me some fluids. I said let’s hold off while I try to drink a few bottles of Gatorade. You know me and needles – for those of you reading, RJ was bit by a Groundhog in 5th grade in PA and had 6 months of Rabies shots which gave him a wicked fear of needles, you should have seen me in Medical School giving my first IV to my scared classmate John McGee, but I digress. So I took some medicine and made my way to the chow hall to try to force some food.

Of course, life has a way of especially screwing with you when you’re sick, and I knew it wasn’t going to be a pleasant trip to the chow hall looking and feeling as bad as I did. I entered and within seconds I saw what seemed like hundreds of people I knew that I hadn’t seen for ages. (Kind of like making that trip to the pharmacy in pajamas when you’re at home and you run into your long lost enemy that you haven’t seen in 10 years.)
“RJ, how ya doin’ man? Come sit with all of us!”, or “RJ, you gunna just walk by without sayin’ hello? What’s up man? Where u sitting?”, or “Hey Doc, I’ve been meaning to ask you...”, or “Hey Sir, when you have a minute, I wanted to talk to you about…” Now normally, healthy pleasant RJ would have enjoyed, even invited this kind of discourse, but at that moment, I have to say that having Von Klepner himself rip my fingernails out one by one while simultaneously being bit by a 1000 giant scorpions and camel spiders would have been more enjoyable.

Not by choice, I sat at a table with a group of Doctors to my left and a group of my Marines to my right. I wanted to cry, lol, as I really wanted to just sit alone in a corner facing the wall as I nibbled on my grilled cheese and chicken soup. Instead I had to endure sitting across from one of my Marines who was stuffing his face with baked beans, scoffing down his runny smelly potato salad and shooting corn juice in my face as he violently bit his corn on the cob kernel by kernel. The other Marines around me were just as bad (has anyone ever seen a hungry Marine eat?) I momentarily turned to the left to escape and got drawn into the Doctor’s conversation, “Yeah, RJ, you should have been there when we took the Esophago-gastric-duodenoscope to visualize his peptic ulcer, as we traversed the lower esophageal sphincter, we noted…” Again, I wanted to cry, but I was too occupied with trying not to puke that I couldn’t. I was in hell.

Suffice to say my cramps eventually subsided, the Big D (diarrhea) eased up and after a full night of rest, I woke up as if waking from a coma. I feel 90% better today and I’m back at work. My best guess as to the cause? One of 3 things, either my body wasn’t used to the BBQed food (the burger was pretty much charred), or I washed out my protein shaker with the sink’s water instead of a bottle of water (we’re instructed to use only bottled water since the tap water is visually brown and often contaminated) and I caught a bug there or maybe I didn’t hand sanitize enough after taking care of one of my sick Marines. Maybe I’ve been talking about Von Klepner so much that he got his revenge, who knows? In any event, I think the worst of it is gone and I’ve gained my ‘Independence’ from the hourly bathroom trips, at least for a while.

Much like the last 3 years, it was a July 4th that I won’t soon forget…