Stryker Brigade News

10/31/04: I spent the night in a reclining chair in Scott's room because I knew I wouldn't be able to get up in time at the Mologne House to get to the ward by 0430. As it was, I got up a bit before that. A litter (or stretcher, as some may call it) was atop a gurney in the hallway. Scott got dressed and up on the litter. He was covered up, belted on and we rolled off to the nurses station. I collected a paper bag with Scott's medications and an ID card that was made on 9/21/04 at Landstuhl. I don't know where it had been hiding and we could have avoided getting another one, but here it was. Not a pretty picture, either. I had to stand there and look at it for a minute before I could proceed. His head was swollen and he had bandages on the left side of his head held in place by something that looked like a gauze skull cap. Anyway, we went downstairs and got on the bus, which was configured to hold litters along the inside walls in the back half and seats for passengers in the front half.

We drove over to Andrews AFB and then had to get our bags zapped. Scott went through screening (BEEP from the bullet in his head) because he is hard-headed about walking on his own at times. Somehow, I didn't have to go through the portal. (Like I'm a terrorist threat anyway.) Scott got back on the bus and on the litter. We drove off and then turned around because somebody forgot to get a flight nurse. We left again and went out to the flight line. (I liked the red paint on the ground with deadly force warnings. Must be Air Force One's parking place.) We continued out to our plane, a C-141. I think they're called Starlifters. The four buses backed up to the plane's ramp and the litter cases (including Scott) were put on a rack in the center. Once they were on, the rest of us walked up and got in specific seats (that weight thing again). The seats were three on each side of an aisle and had plenty of leg room. No windows, though, and everybody faced the back of the plane. Interesting pre-flight briefing. Lots of warnings about being left behind, etc. at the various stops. The crew closed up the ramp, distributed box lunches and we took off. After the seat belt sign went off (yes, they even had those. I'm telling you the Air Force has everything), I got up and went to check on Scott. He was asleep, just like I told him. He had wanted to walk on the plane and sit next to me, but I told him he'd be better off on the litter so he could rest. He woke up sometime on approach. He needed to use the lavatory so I got his cane and we walked him back. Scott got back on the litter and was carried off into a waiting bus. The crew and ground personnel did a great job moving him. You would have thought he was an ancient king being borne by four bearers. A short bus ride later and we arrived at the 375th Aeromedical Staging Flight where we were both bored to tears for over 48 hours.

There was nothing happening at Scott AFB (which is good because it's a major hub for transporting wounded around). One of the other soldiers we travelled with had to have Security Police explain the rules about male/female relationships to him, but not much else to report. Other than the fact that somebody lost Scott's medications at Andrews and the flight surgeon wanted to divert Scott to the VA Hospital at American Lake, outside Tacoma. "No, he's going to Minneapolis, thank you." Geez! They did their best to scramble around and get some replacement meds, but didn't have a nurse on 24 hours a day to administer them. I pointed out they were controlled substances so often that they eventually gave them to me to administer to him (a little "briar patch" persuasion, I guess--"You can't solve your nurse shortage by giving those meds to me" begins to sound like "I can give his meds to him" if you say it to Toons often enough).

11/1 & 2/04: On Monday night, the flight nurse for our trip to Minneapolis came by and explained how the flight would go, etc. It turned out we would be on a C-130, which is a four engine turboprop aircraft, probably pressed into duty because everything else the Air Force has is flying supplies and casualties to and from a certain hostile location. I hadn't been in a C-130 in a very long time so it was nice to be in one again. Only one litter case (Scott), three ambulatory guys and me as the passengers. One-to-one service from the flight crew, which was very nice. Also, a box lunch! Scott's was a little weird because it had one of those individual servings of soup in a can and no microwave to heat it up in to be found. In fact, no heat in the back of a C-130, so Scott had several blankets and a quilt on him. The usual green Army blanket (I wondered how many stars were on the flag when this one was made) and a nice warm white one we brought with us from Walter Reed.

When the plane landed at the Minneapolis/St. Paul Airport, we taxied over to the far side of the field and awaited a civilian ambulance to take us to the VA Medical Center (VAMC) about a mile away. The ambulance pulled into a garage-looking affair and the doors closed behind us. This is your emergency entrance on Winter, I guess. We went into the emergency room (which is more like urgent care) and then up to the room, 3F-108. Once there, I tried to unpack some of Scott's stuff and help him relax after the trip. The staff here are, so far, very polite and caring. Scott's nurse for the evening came in and introduced herself. I gave her the medications, the medical summary from Walter Reed and the medication log sheet I got at Scott AFB. Next, we had a visit and physical exam from Dr. Champaigne (her real name) who looks like a real down-to-Earth human being (sometimes a rare look in doctors). Later, an aide came in and weighed Scott (158 pounds at 75"). Scott couldn't believe the machine was correct, so he got on again. 158 pounds. Scott was 205 pounds when he deployed to Iraq. I do not recommend this method of losing weight. Scott looked a little shocked at the news, but I assured him that if he ate like we told him to, he could gain that back. After making sure Scott was okay for the night and having been properly relieved at my post, I departed for the Fisher House where Julie and Tiffany had been since the night before.

The Fisher House is like a bed and breakfast, only you make your own breakfast, and all your other meals, too. Lockers for your food in the kitchen and mark your stuff in the fridge. Dining room and living room completes the package. Some rooms share a bath, but that's not usually a problem. Zachary and Elizabeth, thanks, wherever you are.

11/3/04: When Julie and I arrived at the hospital, Tiffany and Scott were already at his 1000 speech therapy appointment. We met the therapist after they came out. He had a call in to Walter Reed so as to avoid re-inventing the wheel. Tiff said part of the session involved reading some stories and then answering questions about them (the old Reading Comprehension Trick!). Scott looked a little pooped, so we took him back to his room for a nap before lunch. Julie and I went to the cafeteria and a book fair being held therein (I got a good copy of The Caine Mutiny, a complete set of the Hornblower series and Red Star Rising ('m having Harpoon withdrawals)--lots of reading to do around here sometimes).

In the afternoon, Scott had appointments at Occupational Therapy (OT), Recreational Therapy (RT, and a new item for Scott) and Physical Therapy (PT). The OT was very nice and conducted some testing to assess where Scott needed to go from here. He had to move colored blocks from one bin to another to see how many he could do in a minute and squeeze and pinch various devices to test his abilities. He talked a little about the incident, too. He demonstrated his personality and charm, despite missing a noticeable chunk of his skull.

The RT wanted to determine Scott's interests to make sure she could fit his goals into the therapy. Scott was asked about what he liked to do. Somewhere on the list was Hunting. "Do like to go hunting? Have you ever gone hunting?" Scott innocently responded, "well, you know, I kill people." She looked a little startled until I explained to her what Scott was doing when he was injured--hunting insurgents. He definitely wants to kill them again. I think it's safe to say that hunting will not be on Scott's list of things to do for RT while here in Minnesota.

The PT session was designed to test his limits and abilities. She made the same mistake of asking Scott what his goals were and got the same "kill people" response. I thought it would be a good idea (this time) to explain that Scott's goal was to return to duty, which is what he means by that. Scott was asked to roll on one side and then the other and do some lifting of his legs. Sometime while he was on his stomach, he started to feel some pain in his head. It wasn't as bad as when he bent over at Walter Reed, but it was similar. (Well, at least we know something else he probably shouldn't do until his head is put back together.) He walked back to his room, picking up speed as he got closer to his bed. We got him some pain meds and he went to sleep. Since he was sound asleep and in Tiffany's capable hands, Julie and I left to go back to the Fisher House.

Well, this update was interrupted by a hostage situation on the 4th Floor (Scott's on the 3rd) of the VAMC. Just after one of the residents made that announcement during dinner, another resident had a possible seizure in his room! We (the residents present) made sure our guy was able to breathe and Julie hit the panic buttons. The VAMC across the street couldn't respond due to the knucklehead event so the St. Paul Fire Department came by and scooped our man up. Tiffany arrived from the hospital as the 911 call was being made. She had just walked out the front door and past the TV crews outside the hospital. With any luck, Alyson made it on camera--cutest granddaughter at a hostage situation (!!!). You've got to hand it to these Minnesotans, they know how to liven up a cold evening.

ST