“ extended educational experience”
I looked over at my buddy, as he and three other soldiers crouched down next to a marble and brick wall in our barracks in preparation for another scud missile heading in our direction. Perspiration ran everywhere, and the lens of my gas mask fogged over, as we huddle in our full chemical protection gear. The time was around midnight, and nearly 90 degrees outside, and all lights were off, to better hide our location from the enemy. Like the scud missile, we had no idea where the enemy was or which direction they might come from.
The steady high pitched howl of the air raid siren seemed to scream for eternity, further adding to the stress of not being able hear anything either. Almost suffocating, as I clutched my loaded M-16 rifle, with hands sweating profusely in my thick black rubber gloves, was something we trained for since basic. The fifteen vaccinations prior to deployment, and the little decontamination kits we had at hand was our defense, against Iraq’s possible use of chemical or biological weapons.
Nearly a full forty five minutes had passed, and suddenly silence filled the air. We finally got the all clear signal from command that the scud was downed, and no chemical or biological agents were detected in our area. By that time, my charcoal lined chemical suit was saturated with sweat, as were my fellow soldier’s suits. The suits would have failed in protecting us due to the breakdown of the charcoal that lined the chemical suit because of our perspiration. Five dead soldiers would have resulted in minutes, from one drop of nerve agent, mustard or biological type gas.
We trained over and over for this day. Did I ever imagine experiencing this in person? Not a chance. For the next three weeks solid, we would wear our chemical gear at various times both day and night, in immediate response to the air raid siren. The siren was our first line of defense due to its sophisticated sensors that could detect microscopic particles of nearly any chemical weapon, and their various types of delivery systems. The issue with the alarm system, was that it was also activated by the nearby radar and air traffic control people, for the many other vehicles entering our airspace, that were not a chemical threat. Regardless, it was mandated by higher command to wear the complete chemical protective gear at the moment the siren sounded.
The nearby airport from our barracks served also as the C-141, refueling tanker jet’s base of operations. A jet basically the size of a Boeing 727, would take off and land every few minutes, 24/7, in their support of NATO aircraft and mid-air refueling requirements. The thrust required to lift those jets into the air was full throttle with afterburners. With that being said, you could only imagine the amount of sleep that we didn’t get.
These stories and many more were experienced by our unit, and it all started from a single phone call at my civilian job back home.
In the fall of 1991, while checking the blood pressure of a heart patient, on the Coronary care unit, at Madigan hospital in Tacoma, I got a phone call. The head nurse said, “Don, you need to call your unit rite away.”
That’s odd, it was midweek, and we’re not to train for another week and a half.
When I talked to my first Sargent, his first words were. “It’s not a drill, report to H.Q. at 0600 hrs.”
I was aware of the Kuwait invasion by Iraq, but never expected the 50th General Hospital, my unit, to get the call. In fact, for the next two weeks, we were not briefed, for security reasons, on where we were going. Fellow soldiers, family and friends, and our civilian employers were told “we’re on special orders, and that’s that”. Pack your duffle bags, hug your loved ones, and tell your boss to hire a temporary employee while you’re gone. Next get your personal finance, will, and any other legal matters, such as guardianship issues, in order, for we’re to be confined to Ft. Lewis, the next two weeks, for pre-deployment preparation.
From Private to full bird Colonel, our unit commander, who was a civilian doctor, and all the different health care workers in our unit, all were in a daze of sorts. It’s hard to describe all the different concerns, the fear of not knowing added to this major family crisis that came about over night to all of us.
One thing I particularly recalled was the decision that many of my fellow soldiers had to make, who had children, because both parents were soldiers in our unit. And by law, only one parent is allowed to deploy, and the same rule applies to any siblings in our unit. The law protects the family, and was enacted after all three sons of a family were killed in combat during World War two, leaving no child to carry on the family name. It was tough even for us single guys giving that last hug and kiss to our loved ones. I look at those emotional times now and realize that millions have endured this process over the years from the many wars of countries all over the world.
Knowing a little history about Saddam Hussein, his use of chemical weapons, and knowing the money Saddam had to purchase weapons of mass destruction, gave me moments of deep anxiety. I realized that serious injury or death would soon be around me, or quite possibly include me.
Then I remembered, I was the senior enlisted, “Ward master” of the intensive care unit with the rank of Staff Sargent, which I was quite proud of, and I had soldiers to lead. From that reality check point on, I led fourteen lower enlisted nurses and corpsman in the theatre of operations, to run the Intensive care unit of a general hospital, in the Middle East.
My years of training, education, and civilian job caring for critically ill and wounded people gave me the confidence to do the job as well as training those assigned to me. Before I take you back to the theater of operations, I want to go back another ten years, and touch on how my health care, medical career began.
In the fall of 1981, a few months after graduating high school, I had pulled myself out of bed around noon. Not because I wanted to get up, it was an extreme thirst, combined with nausea, and a serious headache. It would seem I had the flu, but I, as well as my father knew, that most likely my illness was due to a keg party the night before. It wasn’t the first brown bag flu for me, but for my dad, he wanted it to be the last.
That day, was get ready to flap your wings, day, because it’s time to leave the family nest. I knew it was coming, but was hoping to take flight the following summer. The youngest and last of seven kids, I thought I had more time, being the rest flew the coop by the previous year.
The other huge part of my life as a child and for about a year after I left home was my mother. She was bed ridden for a couple years dying slowly but surely from emphysema. When Dad told me to join the service or the homeless, I chose the Army, and specifically the medical field to study and find a cure.
The following year, while stationed in Germany, as a combat field medic at the rank of private first class, I got the call to go home. I didn’t find a cure yet, but mom understood. I got to be with her for a few days, but soon she as well as my proud dad, brother and sisters, wanted me to get back to my unit. What an awesome family I have and had for all those year
Mom passed away a couple weeks later, and Dad, moms partner for nearly forty years, who missed her terribly would join her three years after that from a sudden heart attack. I miss them, as well as my brother and one sister who also passed on from different illnesses.
Today, I’m very fortunate to return once again to further my education. School is not coming without challenge, and I’m thankful for my family once again to be there in support and encouragement, as I forge ahead. I couldn’t do it without them, and the warm home they welcomed me into. I know there will come a time to discuss the nest again, for sure before too many feathers fall from my wings.
Now, I would like to take you back to around 1992, to my deployment in support of Operation Desert Storm with my reserve unit, to support and treat the war wounded, both friend and foe, as we attempt to push Saddam Hussein and his troops from Kuwait.
The 50th General Hospital’s plane attempts to land in Bahrain, a small suburb near Raihyad Saudi Arabia, on a runway not equipped with navigation equipment that can basically land the plane. Our fully loaded Pan Am 747, with every seat filled, to include two duffle bags per soldier began to descend on an airstrip shrouded in fog. Slowly we dropped down and it was obvious the pilots were flying by dead reckoning, or needing a direct visual, because even the position of the runway is not known. I will never forget the gasps and oh my god’s as this mammoth jet’s pilot went full throttle to barely avoid hitting the desert at a two o’clock position related to the runway. The pilot saved everyone by his ginger approach, and having room to keep the plane in the air. We circled around and touched down to everybody’s relief. Roughly twenty three hours on the plane and two refueling stops took us nearly half way around the world.
As we disembarked the plane, the heavy fog was actually a light rain. The local bus drivers that greeted us at the airport informed us that it was the first time in over three years that it had rained there.
Off we went from the airport via Greyhound type busses to our barracks. When we got to the barracks quite early in the morning, we met up with a buddy of mine and three other soldiers who had a long night, with an air raid and scud missile attack. By the time everybody was unpacked, we ate some breakfast and headed to the hospital to set up, and take over operations. It’s almost like I had a dream about an air raid attack.
Later that morning we all loaded back into the Greyhound busses with two armed guards who volunteered from within our ranks, for a half hour bus ride to Rayadh, where King Fahd hospital is located. The modern facility, comparable to say Tacoma General hospital in size, was also laid out in a similar configuration. Our unit divided into our preset groups and proceeded to our assigned work stations. Our ICU staff consisted of our charge nurse, Col. Jackson an executive officer Maj. Delaney, and four captains, and four junior officers, making up the registered nursing staff. Fourteen lower enlisted Practical nurses, CNA’s, and corpsman, rounded off the staff required to run the unit’s two twelve hour shifts.
Soon after a unit briefing, our hospital administrator in charge of logistics and casualty flow, informed us we had severely wounded troops and POW casualties in route to our unit. The criteria for admission to our unit was the patient’s need for continuous monitoring of vital signs, via sophisticated equipment, and extensive assessment skills and procedures that only a critical care nurse or MD, are qualified and trained for. The average patient had a massive head wound, single or multiple amputation, or other soft tissue wounds, that put the patient at high risk for cardiac arrest, shock, kidney and other vital organ failure, and even exsanguination internally or at the wound site. Exsanguinate is to loose blood rapidly culminating in cardiac arrest and death.
The responsibility placed on me, through years of training, experience and knowledge, was evaluated, documented, and approved by senior staff, the state nursing board of nursing, and many in house hospital training programs. The qualifications allowed me to train my staff on every facet of patient care. Dressing changes, starting an IV, evaluating blood work, monitoring fluid intake and output, heart and lung assessment by stethoscope and machine, were just a few items, I was well versed at and able to teach others.
Equipment Required in the ICU, such as the ECG, or electrocardiogram, the ventilator and CPAP, being the positive pressure airway device, ICP, or the intracranial pressure monitor, were again just a few of the tools we use regularly with confidence on very unstable patients All the supplies, equipment, and inventory required on the ward was again my responsibility to get fixed, reordered, or acquired through the hospital logistics and supply management system.
In one example I noticed the ward had no ABG, or the arterial blood gas machine, which is crucial in analyzing the oxygen level of a critical patient. The hospital biomedical equipment facility could not locate one, so I contacted a hospital administrator who had financial access credentials, and drove downtown to a medical supply store and bought one. A very rewarding part of my job was the ability to get things done, and the latitude to seek out a solution. With a life at stake, this sort of action must be allowed in the standard operating procedures guidelines. In a twelve hour period on any ICU, that has a full patient load, there is zero time to relax, and decision time is minimal.
The other half of my job was taking care of my lower enlisted troops. A nineteen years old Private new to the Army with very little experience, is just an example of a member of our unit, but just as important as any other soldier. I remember those times, and knew how critical it was to lead by example. My uniform and appearance, punctuality, and attention to detail had to be at its best in order for that private to be his best. It was absolutely imperative, and a responsibility that I took with pride, in leading any soldier to a point where they can lead the next generation of soldiers.
At times I felt like a baby sitter, but it had to be done. The scheduling to staff the ward, monitoring for conflict between the staff, and ensuring proper patient care by the staff, was a responsibility that I enjoyed. Proper education, and training, combined with years of hands on experience and mentoring helped the deployment go smoothly, with very few complications.
About three and a half months later, with Saddam’s troops out of Iraq, our unit was deactivated, and sent back to Ft. Lewis. Our unit fulfilled its mission with flying colors. I personally performed my job as I was trained, and my performance, it seems, was noticed by command to the level of awarding me two Bronze Stars, for my service, which I’m quite proud to have received.
The educational experience as a whole is a life long journey that really never ends. For myself, it’s starting over again after twenty years, and I’m thrilled to have the opportunity, but increasingly aware of the challenges. The all out infusion of the internet and computer into the classroom was inevitable, and practical, as we move into the 21st century. Not only the classroom, but healthcare and nearly every business in our world depends on the internet, with no sign of slowing down. In fact information technology seems to be accelerating in all directions to the level that should maybe slow down to allow humans to have a backup plan in place. We are treading on thin ice from what I have read as to what would happen with a major power grid failure or internet attack. There are many gray areas to address when major failure occurs, as to who will be responsible. It’s been said that some type of solar flare could potentially shut .down major portions of our power grid, and for many years to repair. That’s scary stuff.
This class is the best example, and a wakeup call for me is a understatement. On a positive note, I see improvement in the last week regarding my own abilities, with my computer, and will keep improving in the classroom, no matter what the challenges are. The basic principle of education I feel is to learn new things and improve on those areas ones familiar with. And obviously, areas that are challenging require a response to minimize the challenge by allotting more time and resources, and in a timely manner.
