Cool Guy Stuff

FYI: Medics have to do some gross stuff sometimes, and I'm totally going to put up some gross pictures of a wound at the bottom of this blog entry. Be warned.

Some cool guy stuff (excitement) came into the clinic today. An Egyptian worker sliced the palm of his hand wide open. The avulsion nearly took the side of his hand clear off. It was just flopping there.

If this had been an American or a member of the MFO, we probably would have MEDEVAC'd him to Be'er Sheva to go to a real emergency room. But he was an Egyptian national and we aren't allowed to do that. We're supposed to send them to their local hospitals here in the Sinai, but let's face it, he wouldn't have received the care he needed. So we sewed him up here in our clinic.  

Sterile field? Who needs that.

The poor guy.

Now that I'm a Staff Sergeant, I don't do cool guy Medic stuff anymore. It's my younger Medic's turn to do it. I had to pass the torch. So I took some pictures and basically left the situation alone for the Medics and the Colombian Doc to take care of.

Honestly, I don't miss the cool guy stuff. I had my time.

 

 

 

Put Back Together Again

I'm off convalescent leave and back to work full time now. It was bitter sweet peeling myself off the couch, but it was definitely time. The reaction of my platoon of my return was excellent-- they were very happy to see me, and that always gives you a warm and fuzzy.

Although I'm back at work, I have a limited duty profile. Meaning I'm not allowed to do any physical training for 2 months. Its really difficult to abide by this, since sitting on the couch for three weeks inexplicably made me 7 pounds heavier (say what!?).

Even though I've been careful to not hurt myself, I hurt myself. One of my surgical incisions that had been healing beautifully started to split back open and bleed and leak unpleasant things. To the doctor I went!

The funny thing about being a medic is that your PA is also your boss. My boss glued my boob back together today. What has yours done for you lately?

He had to Dermabond me back together and so far the worst of the symptoms have been put to an end. I will not suffer from a breast coming unsewn from my body. I will live to work another day, but perhaps-- just PERHAPS, I will start to take it a little more easy.

Breast Reduction

I had my breasts reduced yesterday.

I wasn't nervous at all... until I was sitting in my little hospital gown, my hair in a hairnet, my feet in socks with traction bumps, and I saw the woman come out of surgery before me. She was knocked the fuck out and looked dead. That freaked me out a little because I knew that would be me in a few hours.

The anesthesia doc was kind of a douche and barely spoke to me. He was too busy bragging to the other doctors about his ocean front property in Costa Rica to be bothered with small talk with a patient. Whatever. When he finally knocked me out, I coughed on the gas a few times and the next thing I remember someone was banging on the table beside my head telling me to wake up-- probably that same douche doctor.

I spent the night at the hospital and had a cocktail of antibiotics, morphine and Percocet. I watched TV and slept between visits from the nurses. The nurses insisted on having my room door open, so as not to wake me up everytime they opened and closed it, but these bitches were in the hallway all night laughing and carrying on. I didn't sleep worth a damn all night between them and the pain in my chest.

I look like crap!

This morning before I was discharged I got to see my surgeon again. He took the dressings off and took a look at his handy work. I was a little afraid at first to see my breasts. I was afraid they'd be mangled and that my nipples would look like burned up pepperonis. Much to my pleasure, they actually look perfect. Perfectly smaller. I'm still swollen, but from what I saw this morning, I'm going to be thrilled with the end result. My surgeon said he was equally as pleased with the outcome and that I will heal beautifully. Yay!

Life is going to be so much easier. I'm going to feel so much better-- physically and emotionally. I'm so happy I made the decision to have this surgery. Thank you Army. :)

Army Medicine At Its Best

The skinny of the situation is that I'm having a surgery that the Army is going to preform. It seems my back has just had enough of my large breasts and it's time to downsize for the sake of my 2 mile run. Now that we have the facts out of the way...

My plastic surgeon is at Fort Gordon. I drove 7 hours to Augusta, Georgia yesterday in anticipation of my first appointment with my doctor.

Let me tell you about Augusta. Augusta is sketchy. Or, at least, the parts I saw were sketchy. I went on a search for food and ended up in the wrong neighborhood. I turned around at a gas station to right my wrong turns. There was a van parked with items for sale scattered around it. These items were spandex pants in a multitude of colors, all displayed on half manikins. A nursing mother pit bull wandered over to my car and stared at me like she was willing me to buy these pants. I got out of there asap.

I hid at the hotel until it was time for my appointment this morning. I showed up 20 minutes early-- like a good Soldier. And what good did it do me? The receptionist told me the doctor was on leave and my appointment had been rescheduled for next Wednesday, and hadn't anyone told me?

WTF.

No, no one had told me. Why the Hell else would I have driven 7 hours to hear it from your mouth if someone had told me!? It certainly wasn't for the ambiance of Augusta!!

So I drove home. Another 7 hours. And I get to do this again next week. Ugh. Yay Army medicine!