The words to this song mean a lot to me. The words go along with this experience. Minus the video. Play the video while you read. Someday I will explain this song and others like it.

The shiny tiled floor, reminiscent of the one I stared at a little over a year ago in another land. The bright lights and the annoying sound coming from an EKG machine. My brain feeling like it’s about to expand past the threshold of my skull. The pulsating pain that seemed to heighten with every heartbeat. I lay there wondering if this was the point in which things would slowly drift off into darkness. I have accepted my mortality and last night would have been a shitty death but we don’t really have that choice now do we? I close my eyes and think of things that make me happy. Trying to ignore the pain but it only lasts a few moments. A doctor comes in the room and talks to me. I am barely coherent and he begins to spout off like the teacher from Charlie Brown. My responses are grunts and subtle nods. My wife told him that I had a Traumatic Brain Injury. He gives me some anti-nausea medicine tab and puts it under my tongue. I’m on the verge of losing my lunch and this tab tastes like shit. He also gives me a valium to ease the tension. I’m thinking why in the fuck would I need a valium? My head is about to explode. I really don’t care at this point.

He asked me if I had little PTSD. I sort of chuckle. I asked him in return if he would have a little PTSD if he got blown up from an IED? He seemed a little dumbfounded. “Umm, well, I wouldn’t begin to understand.” He says. I think to myself that I ought to not be so combative with my words. My tongue can be as sharp as a sword at times. For now I just wanted the pain to go away. The increasing throbbing is making me fade away. I don’t know why they asked so many questions about my PTSD. I was in there because my brain was trying to vacate the premises. Not for some crazy minded response or episode. Maybe I was dreaming all of this. I really don’t know to be honest. My wife stayed with our children in the waiting room for most of the time I was there. She did come in and I barely remember her talking to me. I know I wasn’t making a lot of sense. I remember her asking me if I was alright. I told her in some form of gibberish that I was good, just a little fucked up. I don’t remember her leaving.

The doctor came in later to inform me he wanted me to go home for the night. I don’t know if it was because this emergency center had closed an hour before. Or maybe he felt he had miraculously cured me by giving me a myriad of drugs? I was still hurting, badly. I was in no shape to argue. I literally just picked myself up and walked out. My family still in the waiting area I stumbled out into the parking lot. My wife told me the nurses had informed her that I had left. The ride home was miserable. We finally got to our house and I made it to my bed. My wonderful wife got me a drink and the other drug they wanted me to take. I told her to just place it on the night stand.

Sleep consumes me…..

The rest of the night according to my wife, was a little scary. I literally stopped breathing several times during the night. Now I know what you are thinking, sleep apnea. I’m all over that, but my headache was worse than the pain I felt the day I got blown up. Something was really wrong. That bothers me. I write this tonight and I hope my visit to Walter Reed sheds some light to this brain condition. The headaches are getting more and more regular and painful.

Lights out is a scary thing when you have so much to live for.

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©American Soldier 2007

The wounds revealed and the stories that go along with it. The many reasons behind our flag are vast. For most the comprehension of what is given in order to preserve freedom is unimaginable. The loss of life. The failed marriages. The absolute horror to see your friend choke on his own blood. The sound that never leaves when he begs to just not die. You sit there and hold his hand and help him die slowly, you are helpless. Those final moments that will never escape you. The war and it’s many stories will never ever be told. The new regulations may and will prevent that. I will not allow that to ever happen to me. I will lose every bit of rank that I have ever earn to ensure that we never forget ‘why’ we fight and what struggles we have within this fight. It is a good fight! Regulation or not, the stories about my fallen brothers will be told.

Fuck the MSM and the lies that they yield. There may be no memo that floats around to twist a story. However, you better believe they will not be telling the truth in Iraq because they lack the balls to go out on patrols and spend more than 48 hours with a unit. The truth is with warriors in the field and trusted embeds who have the balls to step into the death zone. You know who you are. But ‘YOU’, the coward who writes from your safe haven. You tell lies and maybe a stray bullet will miss it’s target and find it’s way in you. You fucking liar, collect your check!

I have not forgotten. In due time I will find the words to talk about their lives. Two times the government has deemed it necessary to provide me a medal to show that I nearly gave the ultimate sacrifice. The times that I was spared and you were not. Oh how I choke up when I reach the dates that were your last. Have no pity on me, you the reader. The honor of death is held high but I have been spared. Maybe given the chance to tell what would otherwise be lost forever on a battlefield long forgotten. With names like Ar Ramadi, OP 293, Michigan, The Crossover. These are some places that my war was waged.

Forgive us of our trespasses and grant us the strength to live through the lone road that is called life. Some were not given that privilege. They gave their life for what they believed in. I have seen honor in its rawest form.

Support your soldier, not by bringing them home but allowing them to finish what we have started. If we leave in vein or for a political belief then all that has been sacrificed will be shamed.

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I received the following message tonight and it really meant alot. I have withheld his name but his message speaks much support for my fellow warriors and me.

I have never been in the trenches, literally, as you. I have never been in the desolate desert. I have been over seas and alone in a nation that did not know me or want me. I have been alone and scared without brother or sister to keep me company. But I have never been where you are. I am past the age of serving my country in the manner that you do. As each day passes, I can\’t help but think what I would give to switch places with you. Here in America, in our homeland, I see faces every day that take for granted what it is that you fight for. YOU fight for US. You fight for the the basic undeniable freedom that I DO NOT take for granted. I would swap places with you but that is not my calling. My calling is to be here as a citizen of this great country that you defend. If the tables were turned and I were in your position, I would want to hear this. You make me proud. Every story I hear about the sacrifice you pay makes me cry. This is not some propaganda bullshit or some news story gone bad…I am an American citizen that looks to my God above thanking every free breath that I get to take because of men and women like you. I am a member of the freedom loving groups and an active member of my local community. My son is developing…hopefully into the freedom loving, God blessed man that you are. THANK YOU, THANK YOU< THANK YOU!!!

I love you all. There is never a day that goes by that I do not stop and think about the sacrifice that you make. Look me up when you get back..Sincerely your brother in freedom

.

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General

I wanted to install the final portion of my experiences at Walter Reed. I don’t want to not forget about it because so many emotions and things happened while I was there. So here it goes.

Above photo was taken on the campus on Walter Reed

Day 3

My wife and I checked into the clinic we were scheduled for that morning. We sat that for a little while and just watched people. Various soldiers with limbs missing, in wheel chairs, eye patches. I really felt minimized with the injuries I was there for. I know those guy wouldn’t want me to feel bad for them or even look at them with sadness. They were proud of who they were. I know dam well it took a while for them to get in their uniform that morning. One soldier had his mother with him. He was too proud for her to help him sit down. He wanted to do it on his own. She sat down across from him. He sort of gave her the ‘I got it mom’ look. A soldier limped over and sat across from my wife and me. He had the same combat patch as me. I smiled and made a remark about how small the world is. We began to small talk about the AO that our unit was in charge of. I talked a little about my injury and he did the same. It wasn’t very long before the now typical response mutter from his mouth. “My wife left me….” Nearly all the soldiers my wife and I had the good fortune to talk to said basically the same thing. I didn’t want to go down that path so I changed up the subject. I asked him about how much longer is his stay at Walter Reed. He didn’t know for sure. Come to find out he was from my home state and assigned to a unit that was deployed last year. He spoke about wanting to get back in the fight. He knew he would not be able any time soon or ever for that matter. He had been injured to the point where he is wheelchair bound. He walks with great pain but does it because like all of us, wants to be or feel normal. Short of falling down, he’s going to walk and get to where he needs to. As he spoke, I just couldn’t help but feel proud to share the same uniform and be under the same flag as this guy. These are the true heroes here. Despite all the odds in the world he just wants to get better and rejoin his fellow warriors. He got called in and I stood to shake his hand and figured that would be it. My wife and I had to go to another section of the hospital because our appointment got delayed. So we went away and came back about 30 minutes later. He was back in the lobby area and we sat across from him. He smiled as our daughter cooed and looked at him. He talked a little more about his child and how much he missed him. He said that the state had taken custody of him because his ex-wife had gone off and began sleeping around; doing drugs and the child was in danger. He was not allowed to go home and take care of the matter because of his injuries. He said he just lay in a hospital bed and watched his life tumble out of control. I felt for this guy and it really made me pissed. He doesn’t know how long he is going to be here. The Med board proceeding can be a very long and daunting task. He has some fairly complicated nerve damage and feels that Walter Reed is the only place he can be at the moment. The CBHCO program in New England is out of Hanscom Massachusetts. Apparently they are at max capacity. He is so young but yet his life is so affected with things that shouldn’t even be rendered on your worst enemy. The crazy thing about it is he is upbeat and is optimistic. I knew my appointment was soon and I wanted to get his info. I told him that I would see what I could do and I would do what I could to get him home. He sort of smirked and said “I really don’t have a home any more.” Almost as if for a moment he felt defeated. I replied that we never leave each other behind. He nodded with acknowledgment and I patted his shoulder and moved out to my appointment.

Yes, those are my hands.

Day 4

On my final day of treatment my wife and I were about to leave. I was circling the round about in front of Building 1 and really was indecisive with which way I was going. You know us men; we like to figure it out. Well I was either having a figuring it out moment or a TBI (Traumatic Brain Injury) moment while driving. I decided to head out towards the Malogne House and as I passed it I noticed a soldier with a cane limping along. My first thought was man that is fucked up. I rolled my window down with the intent to offer him a ride and I recognized his patch and then his face. I yelled out to him. He smiled and I pulled over. He hobbled over to me and I ask him how he was doing. It was very apparent that he was winded and hurting. He was with me in Iraq and consequently got wounded in an IED attack. It nearly took his foot off. Here he was WALKING on it! He said his unit drove him down here and dropped him off and went back home. I was getting pissed yet again. I asked him if the Med hold unit was helping him. He just shook his head and told me that he just got there and the in processing takes you all around the Walter Reed campus. There was no mode of transportation that is setup automatically for the ‘walking’ wounded. He really shouldn’t be walking, but he is the type of soldier who isn’t going to go out of his way to complain or make waves in the pond. We talked a little more and I told him that I would make some calls. I got in my car and did the following

1st Call – A very senior NCO I have some clout with.
2nd Emailed – Soldiers’ Angels.

The result changed things for him quickly. On the military side of the house it was made apparent that someone needs to be helping him with transportation and that his condition was more obvious for his Platoon Sergeant at Walter Reed. The problem with not having a warm hand off results in soldiers getting fucked. Truly that is the case for most things. He was not handed off properly and damn it the basic tenet to leadership is taking care of your soldiers!!

The Soldier Angels’ portion was great. Patti Patton-Bader emailed me and said that all she needed was a name and number. It wasn’t any sooner that I got off the phone with her that she set the wheels in motion with the various Angel’s in the area. She also sent me $500 to give to him. When it was all said and done she got a hold of his wife and made plans to fly her out for the weekend. She set them up in a hotel and will be providing a laptop for him so he can continue that communication when she is gone. Needless to say I was really beside myself. I took him out to dinner that night and gave him the money and told him to buy his wife something nice and enjoy their time together. The only thing I made him promise was to pay it forward in the future. I told him that if he ever saw a soldier in need that he do the same thing. He acknowledged and I could see the tears build in his eyes as he said thank you.

The Walter Reed experience truly opened my eyes. The care I received was fantastic. The memories and available opportunities to help soldiers are endless there. You could basically talk to every wounded warrior there and find a way to help him or her. The hallowed ground that yields so much pain and suffering is ours. We need not forget the sacrifices that each and every one of those brave warriors gave for what we seem to take for granted. Our freedom and that alone has been paid with our blood. I take from Walter Reed not only my medical treatment but the sense of what it ‘truly’ means to sacrifice oneself for our United States of America.

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My wife and I went to the reception party on Friday and met so many great people. I was sort of incognito. We got a chance to meet Mr. Stokely, AFSister, JR & Josie Salzman, Matty Burden, Andi, Sean ‘Doc’ Dustman & wife, Bill Roggio, Michael Fumento, ‘Bob’, just to name a few. We mingled until they finally kicked us out of the area. I really appreciate Andi for putting this all together. It’s nice to put faces to names. I avoided the media at all costs. Just not ready to make that leap yet.

My wife and I are actually getting ready to leave for the actual conference this morning, so I must go.

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