9/6/12
Confessions in Afghanistan
Hi. My name is John. I have small pox.
This is probably not the confession you were all suspecting from the
subject, but it's true. For those of you fortunate enough not to have
ever had to go through the ordeal, I will inform you as to the process
required for inoculation/vaccination.
I had heard of this diminutive virus and it's effects on the unwilling
from many Soldiers who had previously deployed. I would not be one of
them. I had the right "exceptions to policy" and every time it came
up, I made sure to conveniently schedule that emergency appointment
that I could not miss. I figured, once I got to Afghanistan, supplies
would run out and I would be forced to miss the boat.
That was my plan....
Then they found me. I was minding my own business, as most dentists
do, and I heard my name. "Brady, you're next." Next in line for a
cookie? Next in line to go home early? My mind was racing with all
the possibilities! They handed me the form that had gotten me off the
hook so many times before that I was not worried. "Do you have any
children living with you under the age of 12 months?" "Of
course...Blah, blah, blah...too easy!" I filled it out and handed it
in. Another successful dodging.
“Brady, show me the kid."
"What do you mean?" I retorted. "She's at home!"
"So is your exemption...you're next."
Well, there was no getting out of it. I was going to get small pox.
As I entered into the room, all the medics pushed and shoved for the
opportunity to stick my arm. "What did I ever do to them?", I
thought. Oh, right. I'm a dentist. I've stuck half the company.
Lots were cast and the lucky medic stood eagerly by my side. With
more excitement than was appropriate, she explained the process.
"First, I take a little needle, get the medication, then stick you
fifteen times in a circle on your arm!" Sounds fun. In her
excitement, she failed to mention a few details. First, it is not a
needle...it's a triton. A three-pronged chunk of steel looking like
it belongs on the set of a greek mythology movie. People complain
about the size of dental needles. My needles had nothing on this guy!
The second detail she failed to mention is that the vaccination is
administered by dipping the triton in a vial of liquid, not by the
typical syringe-type injection. It was not a cool effect. Triton
> goes in to the vial of liquid and comes out dripping like saliva off
> the tooth of a rabid beast. And they say I'm inhumane...
> "Here come the pokes!", she says with a smile. "One...Two...Three..."
> "You'll get the same effect by counting in your head", I mutter through gritted teeth.
> "...Four...Five..."
> Oh well. It's all done. That wan't so bad. What could all the fuss
> be about?
> Small pox is highly contagious. That means, you must isolate the
> virus from everything else. That includes yourself. The first week,
> I had to wear a waterproof bandage...always. The virus inside does
> not bother you this first week. The bandage, however, is devastating.
> It itches. It burns. You can't touch the bandage for fear of
> spreading it somewhere. The skin underneath becomes red and
> inflamed...then comes the second week.
> The same bandage must be worn through the second week, but by now, a
> blister has formed. You thought the itching was bad the first
> week...it has nothing on the second week. You start scratching your
> other arm in hopes that the scratching will somehow transfer through
> your body to the other arm. You scratch your back and elbow, hoping
> the relief will travel down the arm to the destination. You think of
> nothing else but NOT thinking about scratching...then it bursts.
> Week three brings relief from the bandages. When it pops, you need to
> air it out so it will dry. It still needs to be covered, but the skin
> under the gauze and tape can breathe. Finally! Walking across the
> stage at graduation of dental school was less of a relief than the
> gauze. I was a new man! My blister burst, my skin was oxygenating,
> the site was drying...what could possibly make this as bad as the
> first two weeks?
> After bursting, the oozing starts. I think I now have an appreciation
> for the pain that was the birth of Fred and Wilma, the bott flies!
> Every time it oozed, it felt like life trying to emerge from my skin.
> Little beings burrowing out of my arm to see the light of day, only to
> be scared and retreat with the hope of trying again in another minute.
> Then you have to take a shower. The waterproof bandage goes with you
> again. It's not as bad this time. It's only for a few minutes. Take
> off the tape. Put on a bandage. Take off the bandage. Put on the
> tape. Over and over again. Day after day. more flesh being torn
> from your body with each tug of the bandage...
> Then it scabs over. No pain, just a little gauze. After a full month
> of torture, the scab will fall off. When that happens, you're good
> for ten years. One month every ten years...
> If I'm not out of the Army in ten years, please remind me of this.
>
> Well, that was small pox. I hope you never have to get it. The
> pictures this time are dealing with some of the missions. The first
> one is me getting ready to go on mission. Yeah, I wish. That is me
> sitting in the pilot seat of an Apache. We fly on Blackhawks, but it
> is a fun picture anyway. The next picture is where I live, from the
> air. We were returning from a mission and I took this picture out the
> window as we were approaching. It shows all the trees and forested
> areas we have to fight through to get to work everyday!
> I will write about some of the missions in the next letter. I have
> rambled long enough today. I hope everyone is doing well, and I'll
> see you soon! (within the year for sure...)
>
> John
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