Stryker Brigade News

[Note to Tom Dye: please pass on to the guys at Musket as I can't remember their address.]

Current situation: Scott is in the ICU at the National Naval Medical Center at Bethesda, Maryland. Scott is likely to remain here for some time, probably at least ten days because of the possibility that he may need some invasive radiological procedures (put a device in a cranial artery to keep it open).

Scott's temperature is down and he's been changed to fentanyl from morphine for pain. He had a CT Scan (It's company policy every six months, you know) this evening and it must have gone well or else the neurologist on call tonight would have said something to us.

Magic words: We had an interesting time with this doctor earlier today. Scott was given a laminated piece of paper with the alphabet on one side and pictures with words (doctor, nurse, hot, cold, etc.) on the other so he could point out things he wanted/needed. He began spelling "chicken" and pointing to the picture for the word eat. We understood him clearly, but the nurses could not feed him without a doctor's orders. It's called "advancing the diet" around here and Scott would be "advancing" from nothing (NPO) to a liquid diet consisting of chicken broth, juice, gelatin, popsicles, etc. The nurses had bugged the on-call neurologist (a sailor, which may explain something) as much as they dared. Scott kept angrily pointing to the "eat" picture and began to moan loudly. The nurses came over to see if he was in pain or had accidentally injured himself (which happens with brain-injured patients, unfortunately). Scott saw the chief nurse, LT Lopez (who's also a sailor, but a good nurse and a man who knows where all the local restaurants are), coming over and he made a loud AAAAH! noise. We all came closer now and he yelled out "I WANT EAT!" The nurses all smiled and we didn't know whether to laugh or cry so we did both. Well, needless to say, this demonstration of his restored ability to speak in a complete sentence when frustrated with medical personnel got things moving and later this evening he got some orange-flavored gelatin (JELL-O is a registered trademark, you know) and some apple juice. Some chicken broth was promised but the next fentanyl injection shot that down for the night. He appeared to be in pain and the nurse asked if he needed some medication. He responded with "please" and a thumbs up.

Earlier in the day, Scott spelled out "buddies" so his wife let him know how they were doing. One soldier died in the incident and the status of another still at Walter Reed is not known to us (We've heard rumors, but I will not repeat them here.) so she left those two out. The ones who survived were his closest friends in his squad and he was happy to hear they were recovering at home. I told him the rest of his platoon in Iraq was working hard to find the attackers.

Scott lifted his right hand and made a sort of piano playing gesture with his fingers this afternoon. He also moved his entire right leg when his brother asked him to move his toes. His brother told him he was now going to claim he could play the piano and Scott smiled back at him.

Scott has two pads on his head. One on the left temple and the other on the back of his skull. These pads are sensors that monitor artery performance in the anterior and posterior parts of the brain. Sort of like a Doppler radar and ultrasound all in one. These numbers have been "very good" since the pads were attached, hovering below 69. Scott probably feels the additional stuff is because he's in more danger. Actually, he's in the same danger, but now we will know if the danger suddenly increases and they'll be able to do something about it at once.

We think he's a bit depressed as he has the impression his trip here and the procedures performed so far represent a setback. The opposite is actually the case. I told him if the President was hurt like he was, he would be in this hospital. I've been passing on the well-wishes of all of you and Scott looks back at me with a confused look as if to ask "Who are all these people and why do they care about me?" The answer would be a bit too abstract for him to understand right now.

ST