Stryker Brigade News

I went by the 3-D lab on the way to Scott's room and was given one of the bullet models. It's unpleasant to think about, but I was glad to have it. I thanked John Cesca and Dr. Stephen Rouse again for their work. Julie came in about this time and we got a look at the full size model of Scott's skull that was in the ultraviolet "oven" finishing up with the curing process. As promised, there is a post holding the bullet in place on the model. Julie left before me and on my way out I ran into the person interested in making a video on the process. I alerted her and Dr. Rouse to our imminent move so they could make arrangements to film Scott before he leaves, if that was their plan.

I arrived at Scott's room to find Ron and Kristine Smith present as well as Julie, Aly and Tiffany. I asked Scott if he wanted to see the bullet model. He said he did and I held it out for him. He held it very close to his mouth, scowled at it and mouthed some words at it, like it was a very small private being chewed out. Then, he put it between this teeth and acted like he was going to bite it. Of course, we all laughed. Scott complained about having the hiccups. When we left the room for PT, we said goodbye to the Smiths, who thanked Scott and his men for their efforts. As we were going down the hall, we ran into Scott's doctor, his boss and (I presume) the rest of the medical team. The senior doctor congratulated us on the news about Scott's leaving. Hmm. A little different tune from yesterday.

At PT, Scott did the usual exercises and worked on a device called a personal gym that helped him do squats on an incline. When it was time to leave for Speech Therapy, he expressed the desire to walk there again. We left and headed for the elevator, which is about as far away as his room. We've been trying to get Scott to walk with his feet a little more apart so he won't trip over them accidentally. I tell him to think "Godzilla" and raise his feet higher to crush the little Japanese police cars, but he just grins and walks on.

I should probably mention here that other hospital visitors and employees are extremely considerate of soldiers here. If you are missing a limb or walking with a limp, people get out of your way, hold elevators until you get on and other kind things. If you're in a wheelchair, people get off elevators so you can get on. When Scott goes walking, it's clear there's a problem, but others smile at him and gently move aside for him to pass. I wasn't expecting applause as he walked past, but it's really heartwarming to see this level of respect. Other soldiers, some of whom are walking on artificial legs, nod at Scott and make encouraging statements. He does the same in return.

After speech therapy, Scott wanted to walk back to his room. The therapist pushed his chair and I walked beside him until he got back to his room. He's doing pretty good, but his left ankle wobbles a bit sometimes.

After lunch, Scott went to OT. His first task was to walk to a mock car, open the door and sit inside. Then, he had to open the door and get out. Opening the door was a problem as the door was sticky. Next, Scott went into the bathroom of a mock apartment named "Fort Independence" to learn how to get into and out of the shower. When he got out of the Fort, we tried to work with the Legos brand plastic blocks (see, that looks silly when written properly) I purchased for this purpose. However, they were hard to separate, being new, so we went to the next task. Scott had to pull one inch cubes with loops on them off a velcro checker board and then put them back. He was a bit perfectionistic on putting them back, which is hard to do with velcro surfaces. As he finished, it was time to go back for his afternoon PT session. He walked to the treadmill machine (out the door to the left, around the corner, turn left into the mini-gym and across the room) and stepped on. He walked a few minutes and then needed to stop to get his toe wrapped to his lower leg with an elastic bandage ("Ace" being some kind of special word thing). He walked better after this and went for another eight minutes before Scott pressed stop on the machine. Scott, in a tradition established Monday (the PT's joke, not mine), walked over to the cooler and got a drink he had to open himself. On the way out the door, he spied some Halloween cookies and took one. Scott walked outside the door and then asked for the chair to take him to his room.

The PT room/mini-gym has a number of Red Cross volunteers who assist the amputees and PT's with tasks like setting out towels and putting sheets on the mats. One of them is an older gentleman with a build like Jack LaLaine. I saw him looking at Scott walking today. He looked like he was about to cry tears of joy. I know how he feels. I flashed him a grin and said, "How 'bout that?" He smiled back and wiped his eyes.

Since we are expecting to move soon, Julie and Tiffany spent some time this afternoon packing and cleaning up Scott's things. I went down to the Air Evacuation Office to follow up on the paperwork (this is a good idea here as everyone is too busy). I had been told that since I would be travelling with Scott, the Air Force wanted to know how much I weighed. It doesn't seem to matter how much luggage I would be carrying, but it does matter how much the owner of that luggage weighs. As the PFC at the office said, "The Air Force transports our soldiers in aircraft capable of carrying tanks, yet knowing the weights of our soldiers is their number one priority." I weighed more than I should, but less than I thought. The paperwork had been submitted about a half hour before my arrival and the civilian who handles the process (I'm hesitant to call it "booking" since it seems to involve a much more arcane process than that) said he would get on it first thing in the morning. I learned that soldiers are not informed until something like nine or ten hours before their departure that they're departing. Typical. The current estimate is "Friday to Monday." We'll see. Almost forgot. If I don't post an update for a day or two, don't worry. I'm someplace between Walter Reed and the VA hospital in Minneapolis without Internet access.

Oh, yeah. Scott's hiccups ended a little after 6 p.m. while he slept. Every five seconds for about 12 hours. What a pain! But at least there's no neurological reason for them.

ST

UPDATE:

How could I have forgotten to include this:

Majors had the tracheotomy tubes taken out today. He's on his own with breathing. He has to speak in short sentences as he breathes, but he can speak on his own.

ST