i have half way convinced myself that i would have come home okay (definitely not as bad) if the day would not have happened. unfortunately it happened the last week of our tour which makes it so much worse and really the most lasting impression of my time there. i worked in the ICU, but when there were mass casualty situations, we would routinely cover in the ER until things were straightened out. we received a call that we had multiple casualties coming in as some marines had been hit. the Er had 2 trauma beds and i had set up on one. they brought the young marine in that i was to be working on. the first thing is that when they come in it is so hard to tell anything because they are always covered with dust and such. i couldn't tell whether this young man was just pale or what. when i looked down the first thing that hit me was that he had no legs....okay, i can deal with that, i had before, but it is always a shock to see the remnants of a human being and the devastation of it all. he had tournequets on so perhaps it would be okay. the first thing we had to do was cut his body armor off so we could properly assess any other injuries that he had...that is where everything started to go bad. i was on his left side and his left arm was on his chest. when i picked up his arm to begin cutting off the armor, it felt as if it had no bones in it. it had been so badly damaged that you could literally bend it any way you wanted to. i almost lost it right then and there. luckily Dr Pryor was there as he was such a calming influence (i will spend a whole blog on him as he more than deserves it!). to this day i cannot forget or get out of my head the feeling of picking that arm up and attempting to cut off the armor. it may have been better if the whole thing would have just come off, maybe i could have processed it a little better. it is a testament to the human body that we were able to work on him and have him still be alive when he went to the OR. no he did not make it as the injuries were just too much for him to overcome. if Dr Pryor was not able to save him, no one could have! i go back and forth between wishing i could remember the young man's name. maybe i would reach out to his family to let them know that we really did all that we could. he was not just another casualty of the war...he was a special person. i can only speak for myself, but as i worked on him, he was loved by me. who did he leave behind? who was going to get the next dreaded knock on the door, a chaplain standing on the doorstep with news that was going to change lives forever. i wanted to be the one to tell them, to cry with them to share stories about what a life he led... I wanted to know him. would that make me whole? no, i am not that naive, but i wanted them to know we tried. i never shared this story with anyone, so imagine my surprise when i had been home for some time and i happened to come across an article by Dr Pryor describing an incident which really stuck with him....yes, it was the same young man. Dr Pryor worked in philly as the head of trauma at a renowned hospital. this young man had the same profound effect on him as he had me. maybe the PTSD world is not so big after all. i remember the others who died as well...the one who was shot in the face by a sniper, the one who was so far gone by the time he reached us that we didn't even have the opportunity to give him a chance...and others. yes i would have liked to have had the chance to inform all of their families, but none were as "special" as that young man. i know not why. if you are wondering, i have served as a CAO (casualty assistance officer) for a soldier of a unit i was in. he deserves his own blog as well. the tears still come as i was writing this...the "nameless" young man will forever be a part of my life....and yes...i still love him!!!! thanks again....... |