Finding the Hoo-uh In Me or Owning Your Fear

This was written Friday, 21 December, but I didn't have internet access for a week. I hope you enjoy... Photos of me in my gear will follow soon.

So, I’m sitting here in the Fayetteville, NC Airport with just over two hours to kill before my flights that will lead eventually to my brother’s house in WA state. It’s really hard to believe that Christmas is happening in just 4 days. Still I finished my online Christmas shopping on Tuesday night—thank you Amazon for free two-day shipping. That being said, I still find it hard to believe that Christmas is here.

So, I’ll be in WA state for Christmas, then at my sister’s in ID, and then down to Cache Valley UT for a couple of days before flying back to DC. I’m very excited to see all my brothers, my sister and all my nieces and nephews. My sister is due any second and so I may get to meet my new nephew while I am home. Woohoo!

The past couple of weeks have been full of more death-by-powerpoint briefs. I now know more about geo-political affairs in southeast and central Asia then I ever wanted to know. I also know about 25 phrases in Pashto, can count to 20 without really thinking about it, and am learning to write the alphabet as I memorize it.

The most exciting training was the Combat Life Savers (CLS) course, which we did last weekend. Basically, it’s first aid in a combat situation, and it goes against all natural instincts when you think first aid.

In a normal trauma situation when someone needs first aid, typically you aren’t getting shot at, or an IED hasn’t just gone off. In a normal situation, you stop what you are doing and the injured person becomes your first priority, not so much in combat. In combat the first thing we have to do is return fire if being fired upon. Then once we are in a position to administer aid without endangering ourselves or the injured we begin the first aid process. One thing I found interesting was that they also taught us self aid, so we could apply a tourniquet or battle dressing to ourselves if we are able to. That was weird. However, some of the most ingenious gadgets I’ve seen in a long time are the ways that medics have come up with to improve battlefield treatment over the past couple years.

Our instructors were Army medics who had been either to Iraq or Afghanistan. They were awesome and really knew their stuff. They were very focused on making sure that we knew our stuff before we finished our training. We watched video clips of injuries (blegh!) and had plenty of hands-on practice applying techniques as well.

One thing that we learned to do is to insert a nasal pharyngeal airway (NPA). This is a plastic tube that goes up a person’s nose that helps to keep their airway open. The instructor pulled out some mannequins and put them on the table, and then asked for volunteers to insert an NPA.

I was very nervous about all this first aid stuff, because I do not like blood and gore and causing people pain. I don’t like the photos and videos of hurt people either. But I had to start right now de-sensitizing myself to all of this, because when someone gets hurt I can’t freeze up or be sick. I have to be able to see beyond all this and administer aid. I had to own my fear and make it work for me instead of against me.

So, I raised my hand, and the Gunny Sergeant, a Marine, raised his hand. We both walked up front and stood by the mannequins. The instructor then pulled out one NPA and some lubricant and asked who would be the one to receive the NPA. Gunny and I looked at each other and then at the instructor. We were both like, “What do you mean receive the NPA?” The instructor then said that one of us would practice inserting the NPA on the other. Gunny looked at me and asked what I wanted to do. I said let’s rock, paper, scissor it. He just shook his and lay down on the table.

Meanwhile the whole class was cracking up and making jokes. After using Gunny to demonstrate how to clear an airway and check for breathing, I put on latex gloves and pulled out the NPA. The look in his eyes as I put lubricant on the NPA was classic. I could tell he didn’t really want to be doing this, and neither did I. The instructor told me I had to talk the whole class through what I was going to do, and so I did. I put my thumb on the tip of his nose and pushed it up, so the nostrils were open, and then I grasped the plastic tube about halfway up and started to put it in Gunny’s nose. As I did so, he said, “Whoa, stop!” He wanted a moment to gather his wits, I guess. Someone in the class asked why he had volunteered and he said, “’Cause I thought we were going to practice on dummies.” Well, that brought the house down, as several people were quick to point out that I was practicing on a dummy, and that it was commonly known that Marines are short on brains anyway. After we laughed about that for a minute, Gunny looked at me and said okay. So, I tried again to insert the NPA. However, Gunny had broken his nose not just once but twice and I wasn’t able to insert the tube without causing him pain.

The next day of CLS was learning how to initiate a saline lock and start an IV. After watching a couple of videos on how to do it and watching our instructors show us on each other, we got to divide into pairs and practice on each other. Now, you have to know that I hate needles. I do not like them when they are meant to be stuck in me for shots. I do not like them when they are stuck in me for blood draws either. Did I mention that I HATE needles? Earlier in the day I was thinking about the fact that not only do I have stick a needle into someone, they in turn will be sticking me with a needle so they can practice as well. I almost started hyper-ventilating just thinking about this and had to work really hard to get myself calmed down. Needless to say, I was a wee bit nervous about this.

Each PRT has a doctor and so I figured that our Doc had to have learned how to do IVs in medical once upon a time. I talked with him and he agreed to be my partner. I got stuck first and he did it on one try. Poor Doc was such a great sport. I took me four tries before I got it. I got his vein on the first try, but then I went through it. The next two times I missed it, and then we found a bigger vein near his wrist that I couldn’t possibly miss. However, that vein rolled out of the way and I missed it. The instructor rolled the vein back over and I was able to get the catheter into the vein, establish a saline lock and start the IV. Somehow I managed not to lose my cool or let my nerves get the better of me. I was pretty pleased with myself, because this was a huge step for me. I didn't let the fear own me, I owned the fear and made it work for me, which was a pretty good feeling.

We also were issued our body armor (IBA) and combat helmets (ACH). This stuff is pretty heavy and we did a road march wearing all of our gear. I have some photos of me in the ACH, and I’ll be getting some of the IBA soon. Keep in mind that anytime I leave the Forward Operating Base (FOB) I’ll be decked out in this gear. The IBA itself weighs about 40 pounds, add the helmet, assault pack, magazine pouches, first aid kit and weapon and we are looking at close to 80 pounds. Amazing when I think about it. Even more amazing when think that in the dead heat of the Afghan summer I’ll be wearing all this gear. Yikes!

Well, I’m gonna be strong by the time I get done with this adventure. As the colonel on my team said, it’s the Hoo-uh Factor. Basically, meaning I have a lot of heart, and while my first inclination is not to be this tough and do all this hard stuff, I’m succeeding in doing it. That makes me smile. This is not the life I thought I signed up for, but it’s the one I have and so I’m going to have as much fun developing the Hoo-uh Factor as I can. Hoo-uh!

NOTES:
My blisters have healed up nicely and I’m sure I’ll have callouses on my heels and other places by the time I’m done with this. My boots didn’t fit properly, because they were out of my size, so that’s I got blisters in the first place. I now have one pair of boots that fit me and another pair on order through the supply system, so I will have good boots that treat my feet right.

Hoo-uh is Army for "Let's do it", "Yes", and well everything else you can imagine.

MERRY CHRISTMAS TO ALL!