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Sinister Chuckles in Hell
Have you ever been with a group and felt left out when someone tells a joke? Everyone else laughs, so you must have missed something, right? You hear it, but it doesn’t make sense because it sounds crazy.
That’s how I felt the first time I was assigned to an infantry squad on the front lines in Iraq. I didn’t get most of the jokes my other squad members said. I was always left asking, “What’s so funny?” Which in turn led them to more chuckling and laughing.
It didn’t take to long to catch on once we started fighting together.
Fighting to survive inside a cemetery filled with bombs makes you grow up fast. I had to catch on quickly in order to understand them so we could work better as a team. After a few gunfights I fell in sync with the team.
Eventually, after weeks of fighting, death and destruction became normal. So normal that being shot at warranted a laugh followed by an overwhelming blood lust.
This scene from my book Combat Medic takes place during the Battle of Najaf in the largest cemetery in the world , WADI-US-SALAAM .
“A military operation involves deception. Even though you are competent, appear to be incompetent. Though effective, appear to be ineffective.” Sun TzuThe Art of War
None of us wanted to keep going, but we had no choice. We took a quick break in a tomb to rehydrate. I squatted to the ground and finished drinking my third bottle of water for the day. My DCU’s were covered in salt crystals and dirt. It had been two weeks since I’d showered and shaved. I was so exhausted I could have passed out. I’ve never been worked this hard in my entire life and there was no end in sight. At times I felt like being dead would be a better option.
“Who’s up for a little target practice?” Martinez asked. Everyone chuckled except me; I must have missed the joke.
Martinez explained to me that we were going to try and lure people out with bait. Two people had to go out and start making commotion while the other guys watched for the enemy.
“Ok, pick a number between 1 and 20,” Martinez said.
I said 13; his number was 15.
“Damn,” Rodriguez and I both said; then we looked at each other. He smiled, “Gotta die someday, right?”
“Yeah, buddy.” Martinez said, “Don’t worry; they can’t shoot worth s*** anyway.
“Glad it’s not me,” B stated before walking through the doorway to outside.
Rodriguez and I stood on top of newer graves in front of the tomb, in clear view for anyone in the cemetery to see. My heart started pounding, filling me with a burst of adrenaline. I’ve survived crazy shit all day; I should already be dead. Rodriguez started yelling, “Woohoo! Yeah!”
I joined in, the whole time moving my head scanning the cemetery for people who might come out to look.
Rodriguez pointed to the top of a tomb in the distance, “You think I can hit the nipple on the top there? The blue one?”
“Bet you I can before you,” I said.
B and Martinez spread out, watching for weapons fire. Rodriguez took a frag out and popped it into his grenade launcher. After taking a couple seconds aiming, he fired. Thump! It sizzled downrange and exploded off to the side of it.
“Damn!” he yelled, I laughed while loading a round. I took aim and popped it off. Boom! The building next to it exploded.
“F*** man!” I yelled loud, trying to draw attention. Rodriguez shot again and hit it. I pointed to another one, “The blue and yellow dome there.”
There was a building in my way as I aimed, so I jumped on top of a taller grave and fired. The top of the dome caved in.
“F*** yeah!” I shouted.
As Rodriguez took aim to fire another one, bullets started flying around us; we jumped down as B yelled, “Three!” I stood up firing.
When I squatted down again, Rodriguez yelled at me, “Frag’em!” So I loaded a round, counted to three and stood up. I saw two people shooting; one in grey rags, another in black. I aimed and pulled the trigger, Thump!
M16 rifle with an M203 grenade launcher (FRAG)
The round launched out and hit the tree right behind them.
BOOM!
It split in half, sending smoke and debris everywhere; I saw the guys fall.
“F*** yeah! Yeah!” Everyone screamed.
“Yeah! Nice shot,” B yelled at me.
We started advancing towards them. Two of us laid down suppressive fire while the other two sprinted forward, leaping behind another grave. When I went to rush forward, there were a couple of graves knocked down in a pile blocking my way. I ran and jumped on top shooting; then jumped back down.
I looked over and saw that Rodriguez had to do the same, but when he jumped on a grave his foot went through. He fell headfirst trying to get it unstuck. I ran over and helped him get his foot unstuck. We both started laughing because he was on his head with his legs dangling in the air.
We got a couple graves away when the firing got heavier. Rodriguez took a grenade out and tried throwing it, but it slipped from his hand, falling two feet in front of him.
“Grenade!” he yelled; we both jumped behind a grave as it went off. BOOM!
I tried throwing one, but as my arm came forward it felt like I was throwing a 40-pound weight and it just rolled out of my hand.
“Grenade!” BOOM!
After it went off we laughed that none of us had enough strength to lodge grenades. I looked back at B, who gave us a go-ahead before firing off a bunch of rounds. We jumped up and made our final push forward. I was filled with a rush of adrenaline as we came up on their positions.
The only thing I saw was blood sprayed over the ground when got there.
F****** got the bastards, I thought. Rodriguez pointed to his eyes then to a blood trail on the ground. It looked like someone had been dragged into a tomb. He pointed to the building. I nodded.
I took lead, quietly creeping towards the building. When we got to the door I took out a grenade and threw it in. After it exploded, Rodriguez kicked the door in and we stormed in firing. No one was inside, but it was filled with rocket launchers, mortar shells, and bullets; a weapons cache.
“We hit gold,” Rodriguez said.
Before I could respond a hole in the ground came into my view.
“Hole!” I yelled pointing my weapon at it. Rodriguez grabbed two grenades out of his pocket and threw them in. We walked outside as they went off. BOOM!
Rodriguez called the lieutenant to let him know about the weapons.
“Blow the s***,” the lieutenant ordered us. “If you can’t, I’ll push the building over.”
“Roger that,” Rodriguez replied. “Keep watch while I blow this b****,” he said, walking past me into the doorway
“Got it,” I said.
I stood behind a large pillar next to a wall across from the door, a perfect position to take cover from the blast and still keep watch of the area. I waved to B who was with Martinez 30 yards away. He waved back and kept scanning the cemetery. Rodriguez took out a grenade, threw it in and ran out as it went off. BOOM!
“F***! They didn’t blow.” Rodriguez stated after walking back in. He came out and stood directly across from the door and shot a grenade in with his launcher. BOOM! The building exploded multiple times sending smoke and debris everywhere before it collapsed in.
Bullets started flying past me.
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I fell behind the pillar while rounds rattled the wall behind me. Neither of us could see where it was coming from so we called it in. After a couple seconds we heard the lieutenant start lighting someone up; the Bradley’s gun was distinguishable from any other weapon. It pulled up a couple graves away from us. We jumped up and fired downrange while we ran over to the Bradley and jumped in.
I fell into the bench exhausted and panting. Rodriguez and I looked at each other, then bumped fists. We both sat trying to catch our breath and drink water. I just happened to look down and see that he was bleeding from his left leg.
“Dude, you’re hit,” I said, pointing. “What happened?”
He grabbed his leg and looked at it. There was a blood soaked hole in his pants. I made him take off his boot and pull up his pants. He had taken a piece of shrapnel in the shin. I took a field bandage out of my pack, opened it, and held pressure on the leg.
“Dude, I might have to send you back.” I said.
“F*** no doc, I’m ok,” he said desperately.
I stared him in the eyes, not wanting him to get more injured by going out. “Are you sure?”
“I’m serious, it doesn’t even hurt,” he said. My leg started throbbing in pain; at that moment I knew how he felt. I should have said something about it but I didn’t want to leave; we still had a fight to win.
I held pressure on it for a couple minutes and saw the bleeding had gone down. Rodriguez begged me to not send him back; he stared me in the eyes.
“Please doc, those bastards are still out there. We’ve gotta kill them for Hunter.” I didn’t say anything; that’s been my driving factor since he got hit. I wrapped the bandage around his leg and told him to put his boot back on so I could see how he was with weight on it.
He stood up and walked around, “See, I don’t feel a thing. I’m good.” He wasn’t limping, so I told him, “Ok, but we have to get it looked at when we get back. Tell me if it gets worse.”
“Thank you bro,” he said. “I’ll tell you, promise.”
Next Up- Danger
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The Precipice of PTSD…
Most people don’t understand the change that happens within a soldier that just gets back from war. Everyone comes back changed, whether they’d like to admit it or not, some worse than others.
In my case, I was the worst.
Not a day has gone by in these past 13 years that I haven’t thought about Iraq and the messed-up things I saw and did there. I have only recently started moving on with my life with the intent to show America what it’s like to be on the battle front, fighting for our country and our lives only to come home to a never ending battle.
This scene from the first chapter of my book Combat Medic takes place at the precipice of my Post-Traumatic stress disorder, the worst moment of my life.
” Slamming the door, I locked it and rested my head against the wood frame, trying to regain my thoughts. You’re home…you’re safe.
Sunlight is beaming in through the blinds, making it hard to see. Leaning against the marble counter in the kitchen, I set my keys down before wiping the sweat that wasn’t there from my brow. I wondered, Does it ever stop? My angst was making me feel cold. No…it never will. I stared at the floor. What if I was dead? Would anybody really care? I wouldn’t have to deal with this pain anymore. The thoughts; the nightmares…
My lower back throbbed. I pushed myself up on my hands, thrusting my hips back and forth, waiting for the pain to go away. I closed my eyes, put my head down, and started taking deep breaths, trying to calm down.
Standing up I grabbed a glass of water when a loud bang shook the room. My heart started racing; a chill ran through my body. The hearing in my right ear fell out, leaving a high-pitched ringing in the background. My heart jumped then started beating faster. I closed my eyes and saw flashing lights and heard gunfire – echoes and bangs.
I squatted to the ground behind the counter with my eyes wide open staring at the door. A chill ran through my back, into my heart. My jaw started shaking; teeth chattering like I was stark naked in a blizzard.
Someone kicked down the door dressed in battered, torn clothes with dirty rags covering his face. He ran towards me with an AK-47 rifle pointed at my face, shouting gibberish. I felt a rifle in my hand, the weight of the barrel upon my fingers; but it wasn’t there. I felt naked without a weapon, cold and unsafe.
My heart felt like it was being pulled in four different directions. It thumped, pumping me full of cold blood and adrenaline. My mind raced. What should I do? I smelled gunfire and smoke, but I could see that I was in my apartment. Is this real? The back of my throat was sore; there was a bad, acidic taste in my mouth.
I took in a couple of shallow breaths then jumped up and ran over to the kitchen. I grabbed the handle of my 8-inch chef knife and pulled it from the drawer figuring it would be better to have a weapon in case it wasn’t my imagination. I turned toward the door crouched down, waiting for anything that came through.
A minute slowly passed. “This isn’t real.” I thought out loud, “What am I doing? This is crazy.” At that moment excruciating pain shot from my mid-back down to my left foot. It was like someone had sliced my back in half with a searing hot knife. I tried taking a deep breath in, but stopped short when pain wrapped around my lung.
I dropped the knife. Feeling dizzy and nauseated, I slowly walked over to the bathroom, flipped the light on, and stood over the toilet, holding my stomach and head. I was sweating hard now. The room started spinning as an overwhelming smell of gunpowder filled it.
Images from war started shooting through my mind. In one, I was holding pressure on a wound, trying to stop the bleeding from a severed leg. In another, blood was splattered all over a sand-covered ground. Specialist B pointed to the blood, then over to a building. I raised my weapon as we went in for the kill. The last image was of eyes. A pair of glazed over, hauntingly sky blue eyes. They were staring directly into mine. I stared blankly into the toilet, engulfed in those eyes. The sight of death captivated me. I wanted it; it wanted me. It almost had me.
My focus shifted from his eyes to his head. I started to see blood running down his face as it came into focus. A green aid bandage was wrapped around it, attempting to hold his severed skull together. I looked down and saw blood covering my hands. I knew it wasn’t really there, but it all felt so real.
At that moment I felt numb, emptiness grew inside; my chest slowly became cold. Icy blood pumped through my veins. It felt like I was dying; like life was being drained out of me. I started shaking as a chill crept through me. Death enveloped me, clutching my soul with a wanton lust. My spirit quaked as my heart blackened.
Tears started falling down my cheeks as the visions slowly faded away. I felt like a hollow shell, void of any substance of life. Shaking my head I wiped the tears, but kept crying; unable to stop myself.
I walked to my bedroom, empty except for a small dresser. It’s been 7 months since I moved and still no furniture. Saddened, I closed the door and opened the window. A cool breeze blew through. The sun was bright, warm, and comforting. I took in a couple deep breaths; my jaw still jittered from the flashback as I let it out. My shirt was drenched in sweat.
I opened the drawer of the dresser and grabbed my pipe and weed. I ground some up, put it in the pipe and took a couple of long, slow hits. After about 15 minutes I was fully medicated, seeing everything in a haze. I stared out of the window and looked down at the courtyard. A young couple sat at a table drinking wine; talking… they looked happy. I could see smoke rising from the grill next to them and smelled the scent of barbeque.
Everything I was worrying about started to fade away. The pain in my back turned into a slight annoyance. I smiled a grin ear-to-ear and started beat boxing and singing; doing anything and everything to stop thinking about things – the nightmares from hell that still haunt me.
I poured a glass of cold water from the tap. After slamming a couple, the blue eyes started haunting me again. I felt myself sliding back into the other place when my phone snapped me out of the fall.
I looked at the screen and saw that it was Jessica; I answered annoyingly, “Hello.”
“Hi, what are you doing?”
“Just got home from work,” I said sharply. “Why, what’s up?”
“I don’t know; just seeing what you’re doing. You never call me just to talk,” she said, waiting silently for an answer.
I didn’t know what to say. “Sorry, I’ve just been busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Working. You know my hours at work.” I got upset. “Is there something you want?”
“Yeah, I was wondering if you would like to come over and eat dinner with me and Aleah tonight and this weekend? You know… have some family time.”
I was torn, feeling deep in my heart like I wanted to. But then I start thinking about what had just happened. The pain, the flashbacks, I was afraid to leave the house. I missed my daughter so much but I couldn’t drive like this. I lied, “I can’t, I have an appointment later today and I have to work this weekend.”
“Really? You told me you were off,” she said angrily.
“Well Mick asked me to work a couple extra shifts and I said yes.” I got upset again. “What do you want me to do about it? I can’t just say ‘No’ now; it’s work.”
“You never want to spend time with us. Aleah is always asking about you. What should I tell her?”
I felt awful. My heart started to burn.
“I’m sorry, Jessica, but I have to work.” I gave in a little, “I can come over after my shift is done. We can eat and play games. You can tell her I have to work and I’ll see her later.”
“Ok. Whatever,” she said.
Then it went silent for a minute.
“How come you don’t love me?”
“I never said I didn’t.”
“Then why did you leave?”
“Because we argue too much.”
“We argue because you don’t even try to listen to anything I have to say and you yell,” she said.
“You do too!” I quickly chimed in. “All you do is yell and I can’t take it. I don’t need people around me yelling all the time. I can’t handle it.”
“If you loved me you would try.”
My gut started hurting. “I do love you, Jessica; I just don’t know what to do.”
“Talk to me.”
Silence fell again, I felt so bad that we couldn’t get along. I do love her, but the arguments and fights, yelling in front of Aleah… it was too much. I don’t want her to think that is how relationships are. She should have a happy life.
“Ok, Sam! Bye!”
“Tell Aleah I’ll call her tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yep, bye.” She hung up, her tone saying all she needed to say.
The room fell quiet. I looked down at the phone and thought of all the good times I’ve had with them. The times I’ve curled over laughing when playing with Aleah. Hearing her laughs echoing throughout the house when I tickled her, I loved it… missed it.
How did I get here in this empty apartment, feeling sad and numb inside? I’ve tried my whole life to feel alive; to feel wanted, to be someone special. I joined the Army because it was where I belonged. Fighting for America, saving lives and making a difference, proving to myself that I could do anything, go anywhere.
Now I’m lost, stuck; sealed away in a cave at the center of a deserted world. I want to feel normal again; feel alive, not numb. My past keeps taking over my mind, flooding it with blood and explosions. I want it to end. I want everything to end.
How did I get here?
It was because of the war. Why did I ever sign up to go in? I don’t want to feel like this anymore; alone, struggling to hold onto reality day in and day out. I want a life worth living.”
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The Precipice of PTSD
The Precipice of PTSD
You don’t understand the change that happens inside a soldier after war.
Everyone comes back changed, whether they admit it or not, some worst than others.
I was the worst.
Not a day goes by in the past 13 years I haven’t thought about Iraq, the Fuck’d up things I saw and did.
I’ve just recently started moving on with my life with the intent to show civilians what it’s like to be on the battle front, fighting for our country and our lives, only to come home to a never-ending battle.
This scene from my book Combat Medic takes place at the precipice of my PTSD, the worst moment of my life.
Preface
” Slamming the door, I locked it and rested my head against the wood frame, trying to regain my thoughts. You’re home…you’re safe.
Sunlight is beaming in through the blinds, making it hard to see. Leaning against the marble counter in the kitchen, I set my keys down before wiping the sweat that wasn’t there from my brow. I wondered, Does it ever stop? My angst was making me feel cold. No…it never will. I stared at the floor. What if I was dead? Would anybody really care? I wouldn’t have to deal with this pain anymore. The thoughts; the nightmares…
My lower back throbbed. I pushed myself up on my hands, thrusting my hips back and forth, waiting for the pain to go away. I closed my eyes, put my head down, and started taking deep breaths, trying to calm down.
Standing up I grabbed a glass of water when a loud bang shook the room. My heart started racing; a chill ran through my body. The hearing in my right ear fell out, leaving a high-pitched ringing in the background. My heart jumped then started beating faster. I closed my eyes and saw flashing lights and heard gunfire – echoes and bangs.
I squatted to the ground behind the counter with my eyes wide open staring at the door. A chill ran through my back, into my heart. My jaw started shaking; teeth chattering like I was stark naked in a blizzard.
Someone kicked down the door dressed in battered, torn clothes with dirty rags covering his face. He ran towards me with an AK-47 rifle pointed at my face, shouting gibberish. I felt a rifle in my hand, the weight of the barrel upon my fingers; but it wasn’t there. I felt naked without a weapon, cold and unsafe.
My heart felt like it was being pulled in four different directions. It thumped, pumping me full of cold blood and adrenaline. My mind raced. What should I do? I smelled gunfire and smoke, but I could see that I was in my apartment. Is this real? The back of my throat was sore; there was a bad, acidic taste in my mouth.
I took in a couple of shallow breaths then jumped up and ran over to the kitchen. I grabbed the handle of my 8-inch chef knife and pulled it from the drawer figuring it would be better to have a weapon in case it wasn’t my imagination. I turned toward the door crouched down, waiting for anything that came through.
A minute slowly passed. “This isn’t real.” I thought out loud, “What am I doing? This is crazy.” At that moment excruciating pain shot from my mid-back down to my left foot. It was like someone had sliced my back in half with a searing hot knife. I tried taking a deep breath in, but stopped short when pain wrapped around my lung.
I dropped the knife. Feeling dizzy and nauseated, I slowly walked over to the bathroom, flipped the light on, and stood over the toilet, holding my stomach and head. I was sweating hard now. The room started spinning as an overwhelming smell of gunpowder filled it.
Images from war started shooting through my mind. In one, I was holding pressure on a wound, trying to stop the bleeding from a severed leg. In another, blood was splattered all over a sand-covered ground. Specialist B pointed to the blood, then over to a building. I raised my weapon as we went in for the kill. The last image was of eyes. A pair of glazed over, hauntingly sky blue eyes. They were staring directly into mine. I stared blankly into the toilet, engulfed in those eyes. The sight of death captivated me. I wanted it; it wanted me. It almost had me.
My focus shifted from his eyes to his head. I started to see blood running down his face as it came into focus. A green aid bandage was wrapped around it, attempting to hold his severed skull together. I looked down and saw blood covering my hands. I knew it wasn’t really there, but it all felt so real.
At that moment I felt numb, emptiness grew inside; my chest slowly became cold. Icy blood pumped through my veins. It felt like I was dying; like life was being drained out of me. I started shaking as a chill crept through me. Death enveloped me, clutching my soul with a wanton lust. My spirit quaked as my heart blackened.
Tears started falling down my cheeks as the visions slowly faded away. I felt like a hollow shell, void of any substance of life. Shaking my head I wiped the tears, but kept crying; unable to stop myself.
I walked to my bedroom, empty except for a small dresser. It’s been 7 months since I moved and still no furniture. Saddened, I closed the door and opened the window. A cool breeze blew through. The sun was bright, warm, and comforting. I took in a couple deep breaths; my jaw still jittered from the flashback as I let it out. My shirt was drenched in sweat.
I opened the drawer of the dresser and grabbed my pipe and weed. I ground some up, put it in the pipe and took a couple of long, slow hits. After about 15 minutes I was fully medicated, seeing everything in a haze. I stared out of the window and looked down at the courtyard. A young couple sat at a table drinking wine; talking… they looked happy. I could see smoke rising from the grill next to them and smelled the scent of barbeque.
Everything I was worrying about started to fade away. The pain in my back turned into a slight annoyance. I smiled a grin ear-to-ear and started beat boxing and singing; doing anything and everything to stop thinking about things – the nightmares from hell that still haunt me.
I poured a glass of cold water from the tap. After slamming a couple, the blue eyes started haunting me again. I felt myself sliding back into the other place when my phone snapped me out of the fall.
I looked at the screen and saw that it was Jessica; I answered annoyingly, “Hello.”
“Hi, what are you doing?”
“Just got home from work,” I said sharply. “Why, what’s up?”
“I don’t know; just seeing what you’re doing. You never call me just to talk,” she said, waiting silently for an answer.
I didn’t know what to say. “Sorry, I’ve just been busy.”
“Doing what?”
“Working. You know my hours at work.” I got upset. “Is there something you want?”
“Yeah, I was wondering if you would like to come over and eat dinner with me and Aleah tonight and this weekend? You know… have some family time.”
I was torn, feeling deep in my heart like I wanted to. But then I start thinking about what had just happened. The pain, the flashbacks, I was afraid to leave the house. I missed my daughter so much but I couldn’t drive like this. I lied, “I can’t, I have an appointment later today and I have to work this weekend.”
“Really? You told me you were off,” she said angrily.
“Well Mick asked me to work a couple extra shifts and I said yes.” I got upset again. “What do you want me to do about it? I can’t just say ‘No’ now; it’s work.”
“You never want to spend time with us. Aleah is always asking about you. What should I tell her?”
I felt awful. My heart started to burn.
“I’m sorry, Jessica, but I have to work.” I gave in a little, “I can come over after my shift is done. We can eat and play games. You can tell her I have to work and I’ll see her later.”
“Ok. Whatever,” she said.
Then it went silent for a minute.
“How come you don’t love me?”
“I never said I didn’t.”
“Then why did you leave?”
“Because we argue too much.”
“We argue because you don’t even try to listen to anything I have to say and you yell,” she said.
“You do too!” I quickly chimed in. “All you do is yell and I can’t take it. I don’t need people around me yelling all the time. I can’t handle it.”
“If you loved me you would try.”
My gut started hurting. “I do love you, Jessica; I just don’t know what to do.”
“Talk to me.”
Silence fell again, I felt so bad that we couldn’t get along. I do love her, but the arguments and fights, yelling in front of Aleah… it was too much. I don’t want her to think that is how relationships are. She should have a happy life.
“Ok, Sam! Bye!”
“Tell Aleah I’ll call her tonight. I’ll see you tomorrow.”
“Yep, bye.” She hung up, her tone saying all she needed to say.
The room fell quiet. I looked down at the phone and thought of all the good times I’ve had with them. The times I’ve curled over laughing when playing with Aleah. Hearing her laughs echoing throughout the house when I tickled her, I loved it… missed it.
How did I get here in this empty apartment, feeling sad and numb inside? I’ve tried my whole life to feel alive; to feel wanted, to be someone special. I joined the Army because it was where I belonged. Fighting for America, saving lives and making a difference, proving to myself that I could do anything, go anywhere.
Now I’m lost, stuck; sealed away in a cave at the center of a deserted world. I want to feel normal again; feel alive, not numb. My past keeps taking over my mind, flooding it with blood and explosions. I want it to end. I want everything to end.
How did I get here?
It was because of the war. Why did I ever sign up to go in? I don’t want to feel like this anymore; alone, struggling to hold onto reality day in and day out. I want a life worth living.”
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Next Up – Danger- Gunfights in a Cemetery
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How to: Stop Blood Loss with Minimal Effort (3 Steps)
Before I joined the Army, I had no idea about the human anatomy. If someone got injured in front of me, I wouldn’t have had the slightest idea of how to help them. It’s pretty sad the more I think about it. If everyone was taught the basics of blood loss prevention at a young age, we would have a lot more lives saved.
Just think about, most people get seriously injured with other people around. The quick actions of one individual can be life saving when someone is on the ground profusely bleeding out.
It’s really not that hard to stop the most basic cuts and scratches. With enough practice you can even learn how to use a tourniquet to stop arterial bleeding.
Step 1- Get over the shock of blood or death– Yes… someone just got jacked up right in front and blood is everywhere. Yes, they look like they might die and they will if you don’t get over yourself. The only difference between a hero and coward is the choice to either do something or do nothing. Both get scared and both don’t really know what to do, but the hero sucks it up and tries their best. So be the hero, tell someone to call 911 and start thinking about a course of action.
Step 2- Asses the patient– You have to figure out what kind of wound you’re working with. Not every patient is presented the same way. Maybe someone is knocked out on the ground and blood is coming from somewhere but you can’t see where. Drag your hands on the outside of their body until you find a wet spot, make sure you get a good look at the wound and the bleeding.
If it’s a deep cut and dark blood is flowing out then you need to get your hands on something to roll up and place over the wound. You could take off your shirt or their’s, ball it up and place it on the wound.
Step 3- Place firm pressure on the makeshift bandage. A good medic knows that most bleeding can be stopped by holding pressure on the wound for 10-15 minutes. Don’t let go of the pressure unless you need to get to another cut. If someone is around, tell them to hold the pressure while you dress up their other wounds.
If there is brighter red blood gushing out of an extremity ( arms or legs) and pressure isn’t stopping the bleeding, then there is an artery cut. The only way to stop arterial bleeding is by placing a tourniquet above the cut to constrict the artery and stop the flow of blood. This is more of an advanced technique, but it is really simple. Here is a good video by ZombieStrategic that shows you how to apply a good tourniquet.
Hopefully after 10-15 minutes an ambulance will have arrived to give more advanced medical treatment and get the patient to a hospital. If not just wait and make sure the patient is comforted until they arrive.
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Danger – Gunfights in a Cemetery
In the 1-5 Cavalry Infantry, gunfights were a daily activity for our squad. Our mission was simple, hunt down and kill any insurgents inside the Wadi-Us-Saalam cemetery.
It was an experience I’ll never forget. I came close to death several times a day for a month straight. I don’t know if I was extremely lucky or extremely blessed, all I know is that I survived.
The chapter begins after my sergeant takes a sniper bullet to the shoulder and falls off the ledge of the building we were engaging from. We came under heavy weapons fire that pinned us down onto of the roof. I’m the medic so I had to get over to patch his wounds up and evacuate him.
Chapter 17: Danger
Bullets rattled the wall behind me, spraying chunks of rock and dust into the air. B was trying to stick his head up and look out but kept falling back flat on the ground when the rounds went pinging off the cement around us. The only thing I could do was picture the sergeant bleeding out to death.
Shit! I thought, I’ve gotta get over to him, what the fuck.
I slapped B on the shoulder.
“I’m climbing over to Hunter! Give me cover fire.” I handed him the SAW and crawled across the floor. B planted the SAW on the roof and fired down range swearing and screaming. I was pinned down again when I came to the drop off; bullets ripped through the air above my head.
“Fuck!” I yelled, and then threw myself over the edge, landing hard on my side; knocking the wind out of me. I pushed myself up, and ran over to Sergeant Hunter, who was lying on the ground twisting and moaning. Blood was seeping out of his right shoulder. He was covered in dust.
I radioed to Martinez on my way over to him, “I need my bag and a Medivac. Sergeant is down. We’re by the blue door near the street.”
“On my way” Martinez radioed back.
I fell onto my knees next to Hunter, “I’m here Sergeant; let me take a look at you.”
He moved his hands off his shoulder; I tore open vest and blouse. “You feel hurt anywhere else?”
He shook his head, “No, just my shoulder.” I looked him up and down to see if he got hit anywhere else like I was trained.
“Here!” I heard Martinez yell from behind the door. I looked up to see the bag fly up and over the door, landing on the ground. I ran over and grabbed it then ran back to the sergeant.
I took the scissors from my bag and cut his shirt open; a bullet hole the size of a quarter was blown into his shoulder. Blood was slowly running out from the sides. I broke open a field bandage and pressed it on top of the wound. Martinez was trying to kick down the door without any luck.
“Here hold this tight and don’t let go,” I said, placing his hand on the bandage. The door had a metal chain looped through it and was padlocked. Martinez and I both tried kicking it open but it wouldn’t budge. We would need bolt cutters to get through the lock. Mortars started landing, scaring the piss out of me.
“How the fuck are we going to get out of here? Does the Bradley have a chain to tear the fucker off?” I yelled at Martinez.
“No!” he screamed. “There’s nothing!”
“Fuck!” I shouted, kicking the door. The ground shook underneath me over and over again; the explosions sounded close. I couldn’t think of anything but going back up top and jumping off.
“We’re going back over!” I yelled, “Give us cover while we jump off the other side!”
Martinez gave me a nod, “Shit, ok!” He radioed the lieutenant to help give us cover.
I ran back over to the sergeant, radioing B, “I need you to help me with Hunter!”
“Roger that!” he replied.
“We’re going to have to go back up!” I yelled to the sergeant. “There’s no other way out!”
He looked pale and frightened, “You ok?”
“Yeah, man. Fuck,” he tiredly replied. I tied his bandage the best I could and closed his vest. After I got him to his feet B yelled down to us, “Ok!” holding his hand over the edge. I handed B the sergeant’s rifle then lodged my pack up top. Next, I crouched against the wall with my hands clasped together and boosted Hunter up. He grabbed B’s hand and I pushed him until he was over the edge.
After a moment B reached down for me. I got a running start and scaled the wall grabbing his hand. With his help I pulled myself up; bullets zipped past as I dragged my body over the edge. All three of us were now up top hugging the floor.
With the mortars landing closer I knew it was only a matter of time before they started hitting the building. Rounds were bouncing off the wall, blocking the way we originally came up. We figured the only way down was to walk across the top of the wall we just climbed and jump off; like walking across a balance beam in clear view of the enemy. There wasn’t a floor on either side of us so we would take the chance of getting shot and ending up back were we started, trapped. But there weren’t any other options.
“Ok,” B said, “I’ll help Hunter while you lay down cover fire.”
“Ok! Let me know when you’re ready!” I grabbed the SAW then crawled over to the edge of the building. B strapped the rifle on his back and grabbed the ammo. On the count of three I started relentlessly firing downrange.
Once Hunter and B made it to the edge and jumped off, I strapped my bag on then shot a couple more rounds downrange. After slinging the SAW over my shoulder I took a second to pray:
Please don’t let me die; I don’t want to get shot. After a count of three I jumped up and started across. “Shit. Fuck this shit,” was the only thing I was thinking and said as rounds zipped past me. I tried my best not to fall off as mortars shook the wall. My heart sank when I almost slipped off, causing me to stop for a second. I felt like one of those ducks in a carnival game, running in clear view, hoping to not get shot.
“Shi-i-t!” I yelled as I jumped off the side of the building, landing hard on my legs next to a grave. My right knee popped, causing me to collapse in pain. I looked up to see a grave only yards away blow up from a mortar; another one exploded close by a second after. I forced myself up and ran over to B and Hunter. On the way a mortar hit the ground a couple feet from me and didn’t go off.
“Shit!” I screamed, jumping to the side. When I got to Hunter I threw his arm over my shoulder and started running. Rodriguez came around the corner of the building firing downrange then waved us over to him. We ran to the front of the building and jumped inside through a doorway inside a small room. Each of us hugged the walls in the shadows on either side. I watched as bullets zipped through the doorway and rattled the brick wall, shooting clouds of dust into the beam of light shining in.
Mortar rounds landed all around; the blasts shook the building, engulfing the room with dust and smoke. I thought the building was going to fall in on us as they came pounding in. Bullets kept hitting the wall between us, making Rodriguez and me jump back. We were trapped; there was no place to go.
Rodriguez was terrified; his face scrunched up as if fear was causing him pain. My body shook harder with every explosion; it felt like my brain was shaking against my skull. I closed my eyes and saw flickering lights. Suddenly a warm vibrating sensation ran through my body; I started reciting the Lord’s Prayer in my mind. Our father in heaven…
My grandma appeared in front of me, her face an array of different colors: Purple, white, blue and orange. We were engulfed in darkness. She rocked in her chair moving back and forth praying. A bright orange light shone on me as we prayed together, eliminating the darkness we were in. It was warm and peaceful, wrapping me with comfort. All my fear and pain were taken away, filling me with nothing but joy and love.
I heard explosions and felt the ground shake, but it was in a separate place. It was almost as if I were in both places at once. The thought crossed my mind that I died. My whole life was in front of me; it seemed like time was non-existent. I stood next to my grandma waiting, not knowing what was going to happen next. I didn’t care. Everything was going to be ok. It felt like I was there for hours, maybe days.
I heard tracks slamming against the pavement outside, its engine getting louder as it moved up the street outside. The Bradley’s gun got louder as they got closer. Martinez was muffled as he spoke, “Come on; let’s go!”
Everything disappeared. I was pulled back into the building as my eyes opened. Martinez popped two smoke grenades out the doorway for cover; thick red and yellow smoke filled the air. The medical track stopped and dropped its back hatch. Rodriguez and I lifted Hunter and ran him over to the track. Bullets came zipping by as we moved. We handed him off to the medic and threw his gear on the floor.
Martinez gave us cover fire while we ran back through the smoke, into the room. It sounded like our Bradley dozed over graves as it pulled up on the side of the building. I could hear bullets bouncing off its armor as it fired down range. We ran outside and jumped into the back.
The door slammed shut while the Bradley moved away; we watched the screen as white bodies darted away.
“Fuck!” Martinez kicked the metal seat before sitting down. We were all panting hard; I was worn out.
“Drink water.” I said, tiredly lifting my canteen up to drink. As we sat I finished closing up my pack, making sure all the medical supplies were in the right spot. I made a mental note to pick up an aid-bandage when we got back to base. When I went to close the pouch it was in, there were two small holes punched through it. I stuck my finger through them; it went clean through.
“Shit,” I said, tapping Rodriguez. He opened his eyes and looked at me.
“Look at this shit man; I can’t believe I got that close to getting hit.”
“Shit bro. I think we all got lucky. That shit was close.”
“Yeah man, I know.”
I sat back and closed my eyes, wanting so badly to go to sleep, but my mind kept racing. Thoughts about the guy I shot, how close I came to getting shot and the bright lights. What was that? It felt like I had died back in that room. How do I know I didn’t? I was going to say something about it before the lieutenant’s voice came blasting over the radio.
“Alright boys! Gotta go back out in 5.”
“Fuck man I’m tired!” Rodriguez shouted back. There was no response. I didn’t want to go back out, especially with a man short. B was lying back with his eyes closed shaking his head. We sat in silence for a minute; the only sound was the motor of the main gun moving around looking for targets. When I thought about Sergeant Hunter again I remembered something funny and started giggling.
“What’s so funny?” said B. “I’d like to hear something funny right about now in this shit hole.”
“Did you guys hear Sergeant’s voice?” I asked; “he sounded like a little girl.”
I squeaked in a high-pitched voice, “I’m hit.” Everyone laughed. That opened up a doorway for more shits and giggles; it was like everyone needed to joke around to keep our minds off of going back out. Martinez took charge of the team since he had seniority. We were one man short and no one else was coming out to replace Hunter. We had enough firepower to keep going, so we filled our water and restocked ammo. The back door dropped open.
“Ok guys. Watch your six out there.”
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Next Up- Sinister Chuckles in the Middle of Hell
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One Horrible Trait (2 min. read)
Today I’ll start out by saying I’ve never felt more alive than I have with my buddy Tank. Just a year ago I was having anxiety attacks overtime I left my house, so I just stayed inside as much as I could. I couldn’t go out by myself because my mind would play tricks on me, causing me flashbacks that would send my mood spiraling out of control.
Since having my buddy around, I don’t get caught up in the unexpected anymore because he keeps me grounded. Now when I’m in public and I feel like overwhelmed all I have to do is reach down and pet Tank. His soft fur and baby brown eyes always grabs my attention and everything else seems to fade away.
I wish I could have Tank forever. Sadly, after three months of training I’ve found that he isn’t the right dog for the job, here’s why.
A week ago I had to go into my chiropractor office to get some work done. When we first got there, Tank was fine. I signed in and took a seat, Tank laid down next to me. When my doctor came around the corner and looked at me, Tank got upset and started growling at him. I told him to stop as I stood up to shake his hand.
After I was done on a back stretching machine, my doctor came into the dimly lit room and walked over to unstrap me. Tank started growling ferociously at him again. I pulled him close to me and held onto his collar so that the doctor could unstrap me because he wouldn’t quit. When I got up, I stood over to the side of the doctor. Tank went quite so I released his collar and held onto his leash, but within a second he lunged towards the doctor and nipped at him.
If my doctor wouldn’t have jumped back Tank would have taken a bit of his leg instead of his pants. I was in total shock with what happened and I apologized profusely. When we walked out of the office I didn’t want to look at Tank. I’ve never seen him act so violently towards someone.
Quite honestly I was scared; not of Tank, but for him. If he would have bitten my doctor he would be put down. Before this had happened, I didn’t think he could be so aggressive, he acts like a baby any other time, so what happened?
I talked with my trainer Lindsay and told her what happen. She let me know that I shouldn’t take him into public again until she can see his reaction. I want to say I listened to her, but I had appointments and shopping to do so I kept bringing him with me.
One day while I was at the VA hospital talking to one of my friends, Tank lunged at him when he was coming in to shake my hand. He put his jaws around his hand but didn’t bit down. Other than scaring my friend half to death, nothing serious happened. It was at that moment where I started to worry about bringing him anywhere.
I met up with Lindsay at the mall one evening so she could see what Tank does. She had her husband try to provoke Tank by walking by us. Tank didn’t react the first two times, but the third time when he walked up slowly behind me and started to place his hand on my shoulder, Tank went manic.
He started barking nonstop, lunging at her husband with everything he had. It took a lot for me to hold him back. Even after Lindsay walked up and introduced her husband to Tank, with treats, he still wouldn’t stop barking. I walked off with him to calm him down, but every person that passed us seemed to provoke a bad response out of him.
Lindsay didn’t like what she saw at all. It didn’t take long for her to make the vision to stop training him to be a service dog because this was the dog he really was. She said that our bond is so strong that he fells it necessary to be over protective of me.
“There was no way we could have known he would be like this” she told me. Something inside of me shattered at hearing that. I thought for sure Tank was going to be with me forever, or at least until he passed on to doggy heaven. To think after months of training everything is over for us.
Lindsay explained to me that not every dog makes it through training. There is actually only a 40 percent pass rate for service dogs.
I have a lot to think over the next two weeks. I have to figure out if Tank will stay with us while I try to train another dog or am I going to give him up for adoption. It’s so hard to even think about him not being with us anymore. Tank is so intertwined with me and my family, he is loved beyond words. But, I need a service dog for the goals I want to accomplish.
I’m stuck between a rock and a hard place. It’s caused quite a controversy in my household. It seems like every day since I told my family about the situation we start to argue about what we should do. My daughter was literally in tears over this. She even told me I don’t care about Tank.
If only she knew how much he meant to me. I’m already starting to feel a difference with him not next to me all the time.
I don’t know. I just don’t know anymore.
Controversy
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How to: Beat Suicide (3 min.)
Happy new year everyone! This year started off with a bang for me. I got free tickets to the Katt Williams show on New Years eve. I brought my wife and my friend with his wife. The show was hilarious, a bit vulgar at times, but hilarious.
I had second thoughts about bringing my church friends to the show as soon as the first comedian came out and the smell of marijuana filled the arena. Ha! But seriously it was ridiculous. If the comedian wasn’t as funny as he was I think my wife would have called it an evening. Katt Williams is a funny guy in person though. Very short with a mouth like a sailor. I tried to get a good picture of him but there were too many lights.
I had to leave Tank at home with Aleah and my mother-in-law. By the time we got home he was passed out on top of the stairs. We walked through the door around 11 and I saw his head shoot up with eyes locked onto me. I swear he hates it when I leave him, especially for so long. He ran down the stairs just to lick my hand then ran back up and hopped into his bed. He was snoring long before I changed into my PJ’s and hopped into bed.
Public access training is getting easier each time we train. I’ve had Tank next to my side ever since he got his vest. Lindsay has moved our training from Target and Lowes to the Ridgedale mall. A big leap so fast, I know, but Lindsay said that we have a strong bond and she thought we were ready to move along faster and I trust her.
The first day we went was a little overwhelming for me. Even though it was in the morning and there weren’t a lot of people, the space and random noises and people was enough to make my anxiety sky-rocket.
Tank did his job well though. While my head was growing foggy and heavy I felt a heavy nudge on my right leg. I looked down to see Tank with his head resting against my leg staring up at me with puppy dog eyes. I couldn’t help but to snap out of whatever was going on in my head to reach down and pet him. It didn’t take long for my anxiety to calm down. Lindsay saw what had happened and gave Tank applause for a job well done.
After going a few times with Lindsay, I took Tank on my own to practice. I had to get my wife a gift for her birthday so it was a perfect excuse to go. It went well, we were in and out without any interruptions. I would have been in a better place if I got Tank a few years ago. He feels like a part of me now, we move in one fluid motion when walking. I give him cues without even thinking anymore.
I’ve been happier than usual lately. It’s weird that I even notice it, but its like I don’t have to worry about everything anymore because I’m giving Tank most of my worries, expecting him to warn me if anything is happening, so I think that I’m enjoying life a little more because of him. I haven’t yelled at anyone in a long time, even when I’m driving I tend to stay calmer with Tank.
I don’t usually open up to people about my emotions and how I feel about things because I learned in the Army that it doesn’t matter in the long run. I think that is one thing veterans that struggle with PTSD like me has a hard time doing and that causes us to go through with extreme measures to get better, like drinking until we pass out, using drugs so we won’t dream, and suicide because we feel alone in our struggle.
I’ve struggled with the thought of suicide since leaving the Army in 2006, I even planed it out a few times. The only thing that was holding me back was the fact that I had a loving girlfriend and Daughter that wouldn’t let me be alone.
Since getting Tank, I haven’t thought of suicide even once. I think I haven’t noticed until now because I was in transition with having Tank and Training him all the time. I think God’s giving me the tools I need to reconnect with my emotions, who I used to be, so I can help other veterans get out of the same abyss I was in. I’m starting to love life again thanks to the love God is pushing into my life.
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PTSD After Combat.
PTSD after Combat
I wrote Combat Medic to show how life is like for combat soldiers with PTSD and veteran suicide risks in hopes to help families who are struggling like me. It wasn’t easy sitting down every day for four months to write down my most dreadful memories. The only way I was able to bear it was to keep in mind that writing my story wasn’t just going to help me understand what happened to me, it was going to educate the world so people can start getting the treatment that they need.
I took the time to write about PTSD at the end of my book to draw the reader’s attention back into the main focus of my story. If you would like more information on PTSD you can find it on wikipedia.
COMBAT MEDIC: A soldier’s story of the Iraq war and PTSD (Excerpt)
Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder develops in people that have seen or lived through a scary or dangerous events. It causes people to isolate themselves from things that remind them of the experience.
It makes a person feel numb and void, forcing them to be less interested in things they used to enjoy.
People hear and see things that aren’t around in the form of a flashback making it feel as real as the first time.
Recurring nightmares won’t allow a person to forget what happened. It’s a tough fight to go through on your own.
Do you know someone who’s currently struggling with PTSD? Be there for them no matter what. Even if they push you away because they think you won’t understand, be there with open arms to catch them when they fall, even if you don’t understand, because no one else will.
Well over 22 veterans commit suicide each day in America, proof that war never ends; even after you’re safe at home. I almost became a statistic, but by the grace of God I was given the strength to fight and go after a better life.
In time I’ve found that talking to counselors has helped with sorting through the pain and darkness I’m feeling. It also helped that I had a loving girlfriend who was willing to listen and try to make things work as best as possible. I wouldn’t be here today if I didn’t have her.
If you’re a veteran and need help, go talk to someone. If you can be seen at the Veterans Hospital, talk to a counselor. Find out if they can get you help. When that doesn’t work, try talking to family or friends, anyone you can to get whatever you have trapped inside, out. Find God as well. Try to build a strong relationship with Him because with His help you can make it through the impossible.
Need to talk to someone because you’re in a crisis, do what I did and call the Veterans Crisis line: 1-800-273-8255″
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Sleep- Not That Overrated
Sleep isn’t Overrated
When I first joined the military the one saying that I hated the most was, “Sleep is overrated.”
Well you know what, it’s not!
Since my tour of duty in Iraq in 2004 I’ve had problems with sleeping. I wake up from nightmares most nights drenched in cold sweat. So much adrenaline is rushing through my body it takes hours for me to fall back to sleep.
Sometimes I never do.
I’ve learned over the past few years that taking certain medications helps. Sometimes I have to make myself fall asleep because I’m easily triggered when my mind is hazy from sleep deprivation. I get bad flashbacks and that makes me angry and edgy when I can’t focus on reality.
The Struggle
The doctors in the military diagnosed me with Bi-polar disorder months after I got back from Iraq because I wasn’t sleeping, I was drinking heavily, and my fits of anger and rage usually lead me into suicidal thinking. I was medically discharged in 2006.
That’s when stories of the war, the ones I’ve drank away and tucked back deep inside my mind, came rushing back to my mind like an untamed fire.
It wasn’t until four years, ten medications and three doctors later that I was diagnosed with PTSD.
I couldn’t stop seeing dead people, hearing blood curdling screams for a medic, thinking that people surrounding me in public wanted to kill me. I felt like I was seriously crazy and couldn’t stop thinking of the “What if’s…” in life.
“What if I don’t ever fall asleep and die?”
“What if I tell someone what I’m seeing and they throw me in a padded room?”
“What if this is all a dream and I’m still fighting on the front lines?”
Breaking Point
I would go days without leaving the house believing that I would die if I did.
Everything I though was about death, so naturally I thought of ending it all.
One bullet through my skull and I could rest… I wouldn’t have to think again.
I bought into the idea that things would never get better because no one could understand, I didn’t understand what was happening.
I had a feeling my actions and current emotional state were leading up to consequences that would have an immeasurable impact on lives of people I love the most. That part of me cried out in exhaustion and brought me face to face God.
Hope
From that moment forward I put all my efforts into finding a path in life that I could walk down happily without worrying about my past. I’ve made it my mission to find ways to live with PTSD and to share what I learn with the world to hopefully save lives.
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Motivational Speech by Combat Veteran
Motivational speech by Combat Veteran S.M. Boney IV – Ending veteran suicide.
Motivational speech on how faith saves lives.
I encourage everyone to purchase my book to educate yourself on the invisible war our American troops fight every day.
Share to help spread the word of how faith can stop suicide.
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Fireworks and Combat Veterans Don’t Mix
Fireworks and Combat Veterans Don’t Mix
Other than playing loud music and using drugs to help me get through fireworks on this Fourth of July, I did something different.
This is my explanation of why fireworks and combat veterans don’t mix !
Please help me raise awareness for C-PTSD and share this video with friends and family. The only way to cut veteran suicide is to be aware of the problem.
Thank you!
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Next Up- Sinister Chuckles in Hell
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Birdie, My Relief
Finding Relief
Since Tank left, anxiety, depression, and hyper-vigilance have creeped back into every moment of my life. I’ve stayed hopeful that I won’t regress back into the PTSD hermit that I was before Tank brought me out of my shell. It’s been a tough go but I’m trying to stay as positive as possible.
I stay busy within my community by helping out non-profit organizations in the area. This past week I had the pleasure of representing the Beyond The Yellow Ribbon program in the Father Hennepin Parade tossing chocolate candy to sugar addicted kids.
My nerves were so much on the edge that my back and knees started badly aching. I had to close my eyes to meditate through breathing exercises in order to calm down enough to sit for an hour while people surround me cheering and begging like back in Iraq. TRIGGER!
‘”Deep breathe in for 1, 2, 3, 4…”
“… Exhale slowly for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6”
Repeat and concentrate on the breathing and nothing else
My friend Chris was there to help watch my back until I calmed down.It turned out being more fun than I thought it was. I threw piles of candy at all the swarms of kids that gathered next to the parade. We started with 25 large bags of candy. By the time we were at the end I was out of chilled candy, throwing the melted pieces that fell out of the candy bin.
Birdie=Great News!
I’m going to end with some great news for my followers. This coming up week I will be the proud owner of a new service dog in-training! Her name is Birdie and she will be joining the family this Thursday! I’m calling this next segment BIRDIE & ME.
As a celebration of our new addition, I’m giving out free E-books this week to everyone who subscribes to be on the combatmedic.org email list ( Top of Page, right side bar).
Also, check out my blog series about Tank & I to catch up on the latest articles about my service dog training.
UNTIL NEXT TIME!! GOD BLESS!
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Birdie = Relief
It’s been a long couple weeks for me here in Minnesota. Since Tank left, anxiety, depression, and hyper-vigilance have creeped back into every moment of my life. I’ve stayed hopeful that I won’t totally regress back into the PTSD hermit that I was before Tank brought me out of my shell. It’s been a tough go but I’m trying to stay as positive as possible.
I’ve stayed busy within my community by helping out non-profit organizations in the area. This past week I had the pleasure of representing the Beyond The Yellow Ribbon program in the Father Hennepin Parade tossing chocolate candy to sugar addicted kids. My nerves were so much on the edge that my back and knees started badly aching. I had to close my eyes to meditate through breathing exercises in order to calm down enough to sit for an hour while people surround me cheering and begging like back in Iraq. TRIGGER!
‘”Deep breathe in for 1, 2, 3, 4…”
“… Exhale slowly for 1, 2, 3, 4, 5, 6”
Repeat and concentrate on the breathing and nothing else
My friend Chris was there to help watch my back until I calmed down.It turned out being more fun than I thought it was. I threw piles of candy at all the swarms of kids that gathered next to the parade. We started with 25 large candy bags and by the time we were at the end I was out of chilled candy, throwing the melted pieces that fell out of the candy bin.
I’m going to end with some great news for my followers. This coming up week I will be the proud owner of a new service dog in-training! Her name is Birdie and she will be joining the family this Thursday! I’m calling this next segment BIRDIE & ME.
As a celebration of our new addition, I’m giving out free E-books this week to everyone who subscribes to be on the combatmedic.org email list ( Top of Page, right side bar).
Also, check out my blog series about Tank & I to catch up on the latest articles about my service dog training.
UNTIL NEXT TIME!! GOD BLESS!
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Defeated, But Still Victorious
I’ve been through a lot in my life. So much so that I’m worn out mentally and physically. I’ve had long talks with God about why bad thing happen to me and he’s taught me a few things that I want to share.
Chronic pain has always been a major thorn in my side since coming home from the Iraq war in 2005. Over the past thirteen years the pain has only gotten worse, not better. It started out with the occasional pain in my mid- back and then my knees. Over time it’s progressed and after extensive tests the VA Hospital diagnosed me with deteriorating disc disease with mild scoliosis in my lower spin as well as osteoarthritis in my knees.
For the past few months my knees have hurt so bad that I can only take the stairs one at a time because of the crunching pain that shoots through my knees when I bend them.
I’m thirty-four with the knees of a 60 year old.
I can’t run or work out anymore. The less I move throughout the day, the less burning I have to deal with inside my knee. It feels like an itchy, burning scab over a wound. I can barely walk. I wear knee braces every time I leave the house or I’ll end up having to take baby steps from the agonizing pain.
Last night, after a very active day, I had to crawl up and down the stairs. After doing this twice I started to feel depressed. I gave in to the pain and sat down on the stair in defeat. I started having memories of me at my best running and lifting weights. I used to be able to march, jump and bound while carrying 100+ pounds of gear easily.
“How did I get here?” I asked silently, tears from defeat and pain swelled up within my eyes.
After a few minutes of being in darkness, a scripture from the old testament in The Bible came to mind that helped snap me back to reality. In Genesis 32 verses 22-29 after Jacob wrestles with God all night, God touched Jacobs hip, permanently crippling him.
That night Jacob got up and took his two wives, his two female servants and his eleven sons and crossed the ford of the Jabbok. 23 After he had sent them across the stream, he sent over all his possessions. 24 So Jacob was left alone, and a man wrestled with him till daybreak. 25 When the man saw that he could not overpower him, he touched the socket of Jacob’s hip so that his hip was wrenched as he wrestled with the man. 26 Then the man said, “Let me go, for it is daybreak.”
But Jacob replied, “I will not let you go unless you bless me.”
27 The man asked him, “What is your name?”
“Jacob,” he answered.
28 Then the man said, “Your name will no longer be Jacob, but Israel,[a] because you have struggled with God and with humans and have overcome.”
29 Jacob said, “Please tell me your name.”
But he replied, “Why do you ask my name?” Then he blessed him there.
Even after all his fighting with God, God still blessed him because Jacob had all faith in God even after he crippled him. God even gave Jacob the name Israel because he was an overcomer of Gods and humans.
I began to realize that the pain I have came from my unwillingness to give up on what I wanted in life and not doing what I was created to do. I’ve fought God my whole life, the enemy has constantly attacked me since I was born.
“Maybe going into the military wasn’t what God wanted for me and my fight with him was being on the front line. All of my ailments stem from the war in Iraq.”
I still have faith in God that life will get better. Even through all the pain, he has systematically surrounded me with love so that I won’t lose my faith in him and that love pushes me to be my best at all times just as he did for Jacob.
I might not be able to walk right because of painful knees, but I know that God has blessed me because of the calm in my life. He is literally polishing me, making me better so that I can shine to be a guiding light for others.
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Project-Delta Interviews Combat Medic
Project-Delta Interview
This is the interview I did with project-delta. They have helped me come a long way with understanding how PTSD effects my everyday life. Please share!
https://www.amazon.com/dp/B01FTA9J7K
Combat Medic 