2011 - My day
started like any other had. I was coming off a 48-hour shift and heading straight
into my 12-hours of acting Battle Captain. At shift change, I walked with my
counterpart out to the aircraft for report and to swap our equipment. It had
been a long 48-hours and I was ready to sit the desk.
A rather slow
day at the office… No major events thus far. Oddly quiet in the Region.
That evening a 9-Line
dropped (9 lines of coded information to request MEDEVAC). Line five read ‘5L’
or 5 litter patients. Line eight read ‘A’ or US Military. My heart sank. This was
outside of our Province so we were not tasked the mission. I sat and watched
the monitor.
Updated mission
information continued to scroll across the screen. Line five was updated to 10L,
then 13L, then 17L. The number just kept climbing. The number was climbing so
quickly that the updates were no longer coming from the medical channels but
via radio traffic between the MEDEVAC and CASEVAC assets as they were being
launched and/or diverted to the scene.
I called the
Lead Pilot to the TOC (tactical operations center) to update him on the situation.
All medical assets in the Region were placed on alert for possible mission
and/or pre-positioning to cover the areas of the medical assets being utilized.
Our teams were
not launched from our site for that event. Our coverage area expanded for the
next 12 hours as too many other MEDEVAC teams had run out of duty hours. The Forward
Surgical Team on our FOB was one of three in the Region that did not receive
patients from this event. They were already strategically located to cover a
vast area of the Province in case other attacks occurred.
At the end of the
day I briefed the night shift Battle Captain. The number of patients had been
rumored to be over 100 by the time I left. No official reports had yet been
released. News agencies were claiming nearly 80 Americans and 20 Afghans.
This was the day
before our Nation honored the tenth anniversary of the September 11, 2001 attack.
2012 – Driving
into work I received a text message from my OIC (Officer-in-Charge) telling me
to meet her in her office at 0850 for a meeting with the Company Commander at
0900. My requests for further information were declined.
When we arrived
at the Commander’s office there were no greetings, no small talk, just straight
to business. I was informed that I was being ordered to a Command Directed
Evaluation (psych evaluation to determine if I was “fit for duty”). I broke. My
anger and pain was at a level I cannot describe. After receiving this
information I was escorted by my OIC to the Psychology Office where the
Evaluation was scheduled 10 days away.
Conversation
with my OIC upon our return to the hospital:
Me:
What now?
OIC:
(awkard pause) You go back to work.
Me:
That simple?
OIC:
Yes.
Me:
Okay. (right-face and forward march)
OIC:
I am available if you need to talk.
Me:
(kept walking)
Upon return to
the isolated and windowless office that I had been assigned, I simply sat. I remember
feeling so unbelievably betrayed and lost. I had no safe place to run to
whether it be a physical place or an emotional place. I felt I had nothing.
I went home alone. I ate dinner alone. Showered, took some Ambien and went to bed feeling lost and betrayed more so than ever.
- - - - - -
I went to the
Command Directed Evaluation and was interviewed by a Psychology Intern (yup,
you know how I feel about Interns). They
had lost my paperwork and the interview was postponed approximately 2 hours. I
sat outside in the parking lot, alone. I finally began to feel too unsafe and
called my OIC. She eventually arrived and sat with me (side note: during a
Command Directed Evaluation, the interviewee is not to be left alone. Official recommended precautions: (1) Move into barracks for a defined period of time, (2) Order to avoid the use of alcohol and not to handle firearms).
The interview took
over two hours. No organization to the questions. At the close of the interview
I wanted to know if I would be determined “fit for duty” (I never doubted
myself). The Intern stated she could not answer. So I asked a few more
questions to weasel an indirect answer out of her. I walked out of the office
knowing I would be found “fit for duty”.
- - - - - -
Today has some
historical meaning for me, both stressful and hurtful. One is a more of a
secondary trauma, while the other is still difficult to talk about. In fact,
most of you have never heard this story. I have not felt “okay” enough to talk
about it, I still don’t. So I ask that you not call. Don’t text message me, don’t
write to me on Facebook. The few individuals I actually talk to are welcome to
contact me, in fact I will probably need it. But to everyone else, please do
not be offended if you call and I don’t answer. I simply can’t yet.
Remember, I
choose to believe that I am the only who feels this way. I do not want you to understand what happened or why things hurt because that means you
would have to share in my most horrible experiences and memories. I write this
today in an attempt to take one step out of my hiding place. I am learning to
accept the fact that this pain will never go away but it will lessen. Please
continue to be patient with me. When you don't understand, I ask that you give me the benefit of
the doubt. My issues aren't about you, they are about me. They are issues that
still consume me.
