We knew it was coming. It's expected. And as much as the doctors were worried we'd have a horrible time with the concept of Ellicia losing her hair, we weren't terribly worried. Been there, done that.
So far through the treatment, the hair's held on fairly well. It wasn't growing anymore, but it wasn't falling out. A few days ago, Ellicia began to shed. She was like a kitty cat, sort of... always touching her head, and a few more hairs coming out.
So far, though, it's been staying in.
And this morning, when we got up for breakfast, it was still there. Then I took a nap. And she took a nap. Late in the afternoon, I'm exploring my quiet house, notice she's no longer in bed, and as I walk past the bathroom door, it opens.
Yikes!
Honest to goodness, it looked like she was escaping from a nuclear accident. Apparently, it'd really begun to let go. She had thinned... dramatically.
It was time.
So, off we went to the bathtub, and she got on all fours, and we lathered up her head and shaved away.
She's back to being bald. Quite possibly, this will be permanent, from what we understand from the doctors. However, as we said before, we have always been more concerned with losing her than her hair.
30 September 2006
28 September 2006
Change Of Plans
I've been saying that our criteria for Stay or Go would always be:
- Life expectancy
- If better care is available elsewhere
We've had a good talk with the doctors at Landstuhl. It was SO refreshing to have a conversation that wasn't in broken English or requiring translators. We must have talked with that doctor for a couple of hours.
And he's given us lots of good information. And more importantly, he's helped us make a decision.
I'm applying for the Compassionate Reassignment.
Is the care better? Well, while the procedures are the same, it's definitely possible that the general nature of the care is better. Plus, we'll have access to clinical trials, and other options.
We're going to try for the Norfolk, Virginia area. Why there? The family's not there, you'll ask. No, but there are many good military cancer docs there, and it's a short distance from DC - home of Walter Reed, Bethesda, the National Institutes of Health, and other good organizations.
What's this mean?
Well, we'll have to move and the European chapter of our life comes to a close (but honestly, it's been over for some time). I'll have to leave the unit and leadership that I love and would eagerly deploy with again (and they're going and I'm not... feel like I'm abandoning them... again).
There'll be a massive pay cut as I lose the COLA pay that we enjoy over here (lately, it's around $700 per month). That's about 1/3 of my take-home pay that we're accustomed to, so there'll be that adjustment.
TriCare in the States is different than TriCare over here. There are no copays and limits overseas... we have been told there are in the States. (Note: If those of you stateside have better info, please share - need to budget.)
Hospice should be available.
New house - have to find an affordable, yet large, single story, accessible home in an expensive area. From my research, my BAH (housing allowance) will be about $1100 per month. Unfortunately, the homes run about $2000 per month (rent) or $300,000 to buy. Sigh. More research needed there.
Going to have to rent vehicles for the time that our beast (ok, our SUV) is in transit. Both sides of the ocean. Wheeeee.
All new appliances...
Ok, rambling now, sort of building a checklist for myself here in this post...
Anyway, that's what we're going to do. And here's the neat part - we will actually need them to DELAY the CR! Normally, these things are highly expedited, but... since we have to coordinate with ongoing treatments, that's not the best move for us...
More news when we have it...
And as always, thank you for your incredible support.
Happy Loss
It came down to the last play for the Gamecocks vs. the #2 team in the country... didn't happen, but still... we were supposed to lose brutally, and we didn't!
Wow.
Go Cocks...
Wow.
Go Cocks...
Some Me Time
It's about 0315... and yes, I'm up.
I actually set the alarm... why? Because AFN is actually carrying the game between Auburn and the Chickens (South Carolina).
Fully expected this to be a slaughter. And I'm a fan! But I am pleasantly enjoying this game...
House is quiet, M is sick a bit, but no biggie. But it's nice and relaxing. I'll be whupped tomorrow, and it's worth it.
GO COCKS!
I actually set the alarm... why? Because AFN is actually carrying the game between Auburn and the Chickens (South Carolina).
Fully expected this to be a slaughter. And I'm a fan! But I am pleasantly enjoying this game...
House is quiet, M is sick a bit, but no biggie. But it's nice and relaxing. I'll be whupped tomorrow, and it's worth it.
GO COCKS!
27 September 2006
AAFES Gas Prices in October
Finally, finally... we'll see some relief.
Effective 01 October, the new price for gas in Germany will be $2.72 per gallon.
This is a drop of 54 cents per gallon, and will be in effect for the whole month of October.
Kudos to AAFES, they say they flexed their normal pricing policy which would have reduced the price by 23 cents less. So, in recognition of the plummet that prices in the US are taking, they lowered it further.
Still high, but... whew, finally some relief. As "Stars & Stripes" says, AAFES is finally responding to the yawning gap between their prices and prices in the States.
Effective 01 October, the new price for gas in Germany will be $2.72 per gallon.
This is a drop of 54 cents per gallon, and will be in effect for the whole month of October.
Kudos to AAFES, they say they flexed their normal pricing policy which would have reduced the price by 23 cents less. So, in recognition of the plummet that prices in the US are taking, they lowered it further.
Still high, but... whew, finally some relief. As "Stars & Stripes" says, AAFES is finally responding to the yawning gap between their prices and prices in the States.
Farewell to the F-14
The F-14 Tomcat recently took it's ceremonial "last" flight... Read about it at Instapinch.
Well written.
(Plus, it's a good blog in general.)
Well written.
(Plus, it's a good blog in general.)
AAFES Gas
Gas is $1.80 in Missouri.
Gas is $3.26 for the military in Germany.
AAFES difference? $1.46 per gallon.
Gas is $3.26 for the military in Germany.
AAFES difference? $1.46 per gallon.
25 September 2006
More AAFES Ranting
Drudge has an image of a gas station having prices below $2 per gallon.
Current price of the cheapest AAFES gas in Germany? $3.16 per gallon. Want to have an octane level comparable to lowest octane of US? $3.26 per gallon.
Can anyone help AAFES explain this?
For review: AAFES sets gas prices monthly. It's allegedly based upon the Department of Energy's average price of gas for the previous four weeks.
(Note: The DOE average includes taxes - something AAFES promises us we do not pay.)
AAFES then adjusts the price further to compensate for the costs of administering its fuel coupon program and to offset prices on other products (it often uses diapers as an example).
My question is: How can AAFES manage their business? Any gas station in the US changes prices frequently, often several times a day. It's supply and demand at work. How can you manage and plan your business based on hoping that your cost of doing business doesn't fluctuate too much? I'll translate: Right now, AAFES is making a killing because gas prices have dropped yet they are maintaining high costs. Good for them. However, what about when it's the other way around (it has been known to happen)? Can you really ride out a whole month waiting for the opportunity to raise your price to match the cost of business? That's insane!
Eagerly awaiting 01 October so I can start saving money. All of this driving has put a serious dent in the ol' wallet... When Ellicia was in the hospital, I was putting between $80-$100 a day into the gas tank.
But hey, the diapers are cheap...
Current price of the cheapest AAFES gas in Germany? $3.16 per gallon. Want to have an octane level comparable to lowest octane of US? $3.26 per gallon.
Can anyone help AAFES explain this?
For review: AAFES sets gas prices monthly. It's allegedly based upon the Department of Energy's average price of gas for the previous four weeks.
(Note: The DOE average includes taxes - something AAFES promises us we do not pay.)
AAFES then adjusts the price further to compensate for the costs of administering its fuel coupon program and to offset prices on other products (it often uses diapers as an example).
My question is: How can AAFES manage their business? Any gas station in the US changes prices frequently, often several times a day. It's supply and demand at work. How can you manage and plan your business based on hoping that your cost of doing business doesn't fluctuate too much? I'll translate: Right now, AAFES is making a killing because gas prices have dropped yet they are maintaining high costs. Good for them. However, what about when it's the other way around (it has been known to happen)? Can you really ride out a whole month waiting for the opportunity to raise your price to match the cost of business? That's insane!
Eagerly awaiting 01 October so I can start saving money. All of this driving has put a serious dent in the ol' wallet... When Ellicia was in the hospital, I was putting between $80-$100 a day into the gas tank.
But hey, the diapers are cheap...
Extended Again
The 1st Brigade of the 1st Armored Division was recently extended for their tour in Iraq. I feel for these folks and their families.
They were extended last time around! Plus, the Alaskan Stryker Brigade was also recently extended.
Now, repeat after me:
We are not stretched thin.
We are not stretched thin.
We are not stretched thin.
(Hey, it worked for Dorothy...)
Why the latest extension? Because their replacement unit hadn't yet had their minimum 12 months "respite" time.
I don't have the answer. I wish we had a magical answer, but... there must be a better way...
They were extended last time around! Plus, the Alaskan Stryker Brigade was also recently extended.
Now, repeat after me:
We are not stretched thin.
We are not stretched thin.
We are not stretched thin.
(Hey, it worked for Dorothy...)
Why the latest extension? Because their replacement unit hadn't yet had their minimum 12 months "respite" time.
I don't have the answer. I wish we had a magical answer, but... there must be a better way...
A Column That Should Be On a Blog
In the 26 September 2006 European edition of the "Stars and Stripes", on page 13, you'll find a column that is extremely touching and heart-rending.
I wish I could copy it here, but it's not yet available for that. Click on the link and the whole paper will download... then you can jump to page 13.
I remember this feeling... but, I don't know if I've seen it put so eloquently.
Putting on your belt doesn't look quite the same, yet... so very familiar.
Edit: It's now available, so I'm posting it here. Originally in "Stars and Stripes"
Opinion: My respect for ‘quiet clay’ is loud and clear
By Dr. (Col.) W. Thomas Frank
European edition, Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Editor’s Note: This column appeared Sept. 26 on the Opinion page in the Mideast, European and Pacific editions.
It’s Sunday in Afghanistan.
I was sitting — completing some clerical task or other — when the patient administration clerk stood at the door.
“Sir, mortuary affairs needs a doctor.”
“What?” I replied. “The last place they should need a doctor is mortuary affairs.”
“No, sir. They need a doctor to sign some death certificates.”
Usually on a Sunday, I can finish my work a little early and take some time off in my hooch — watch a movie, read or nap. I was eager to do so now.
I walked to the ER to see if the doc there was busy. If not, he could do this. This is a task that would usually fall upon the ER doc, but I suspected he was engaged. The telltale sound of a chopper outside suggested more business was at hand. The doc in the ER was working on a wounded American soldier.
“All right, I’ll go,” I muttered, an irritated edge in my voice.
The mortuary affairs sergeant picked me up in his white van — unmarked except for a white placard in the window that declared “Mortuary Affairs” for all to see. We drove up the ironically named “Disney Drive” — which is, in fact, named for a dead American soldier rather than for the fairy tale king — until we came to the little plywood hut that is mortuary affairs.
Outside were several stacks of oblong aluminum boxes labeled “head” on one end and “feet” on the other. Inside the building was cool and it had a tiled floor — a distinctly unusual feature for these field buildings. The tile here of course has a purpose. It can be easily washed, and there is a drain in the center.
In the middle of the room were three stretchers on stretcher stands. On each stretcher was a body bag.
“Here you go,” said a soldier who handed me a clipboard with a piece of paper on it. A death certificate.
He walked over to the first bag and, without flourish, unzipped it and pulled it open. Before me lay a young man perhaps 19 or 20. His eyes closed. His uniform in tatters. The flesh of his face and torso seared a brown color but not blackened.
Across his chest and flanks, large patches of flesh hung off in loose swatches. There was a large wound in his lower left leg.
I picked up the clipboard and stared blankly at the form.
“Cause of death.” What was it? That leg wound clearly wasn’t the cause.
I asked the soldier to lift the head of the corpse so I would know if there was any obvious brain injury. No. The head was intact. His mouth and nose were clearly burned, however. The last gulps of air he took into his lungs were on fire. He died of “burns.”
The next bag was unzipped. I stepped back. It was a woman. I hadn’t expected a woman.
Her arms were reaching up in front of her, her fingers having a grasping aspect — as if they were trying to steal back life from the lifeless air around her.
Where her head should have been, there was only a chin. Her uniform blouse was pulled up a bit revealing a regulation brown T-shirt tucked into her trousers.
Her belt, I noted, was exactly like mine. Store-bought, nonissue variety. It was pulled tight — just the way she had done it yesterday morning. Tomorrow someone else would loosen it.
I picked up the clipboard. “Cause of death.” I obviously couldn’t write “head blown off.” I thought for a minute. “Traumatic brain injury.” I first printed, then signed my name.
In the clerk’s office of this girl’s hometown, three pieces of paper would likely summarize her life — a birth certificate, a marriage certificate and a death certificate.
Now the third bag was opened. This soldier looked younger. His face was less altered by death. Aside from a few places where his skin was scorched, his face looked like that of one asleep.
Strange, I thought. He looks a little like me.
Below his neck his uniform was in disarray. His skin was burnt. There was a large defect in his groin where his thigh joined the hip, both legs nearly separated below the knees. “Cause of death — burns.”
I stood back. It was so quiet. A poet once referred to a corpse as “quiet clay.” How odd, I thought when I first read it. How true, I thought, as I looked upon these three dead American soldiers. They never expected to die. Given a choice they would not be dead now.
They, like me, had read each day the names and number of the day’s dead in our newspaper, Stars and Stripes. They, like me, never thought their names would one day appear. They were driving down the road. They never saw the blast. Their vehicle was engulfed in flames. One had died in the explosion — instantly. The other two could not get out before being consumed by the fire. So now there were three dead American soldiers.
They were dealt a bad hand. Today I considered something I had never before given much thought — the fact that I, too, am playing at the same table.
I have six more months of hands to play. Six more months of hands to be dealt. Like me, they too were married. They too expected to return to their lives again. When they pulled their belts tight … they expected to loosen them again. Now someone else will loosen them.
I felt some shame for the frustration that I had expressed before coming here.
The driver took me back to the hospital. The duty physician and a couple of other docs were still working on our fresh casualties in the ER.
I finished my work at my desk without much heart and was surprised when the loudspeaker system announced there would be a fallen comrade ceremony in one hour. The bodies would be flown out today. I hadn’t expected that.
At the appointed time, I joined the commander and the sergeant major and we drove out to the airfield where a C-17 was waiting with the ramp down. The senior officers of the installation stood on the tarmac nearest the airplane, as they always do for these occasions.
All along the road for a mile or so — from mortuary affairs to the airfield — soldiers lined up to pay their respects to the “quiet clay” as it proceeded to the airfield. For these few minutes most, I suspect, were aware that we are all playing at the same table — and every day each of us is dealt a new hand. Soon we were called to attention and then, to the strains of the dead march, the colors passed by and the aluminum boxes were carried past, now draped with flags.
I go to ceremonies like this at least once or twice a week. But today was different. I had seen these soldiers — I knew what was in those boxes.
Usually, once the coffins have been brought up the ramp, we stand at attention on the tarmac, while the generals and a few of those who served with the dead go up the ramp of the airplane and pay respects at the boxes themselves. Today we went into the airplane, too, because two of them were medics.
Each person in the plane walked past the coffins and knelt — most in prayer. I rested my hand on each box and said to myself, “I’m sorry this happened to you.”
Tomorrow, when I cinch my belt, I will think of three dead American soldiers and I will think of my wife and my daughter and of home.
I wish I could copy it here, but it's not yet available for that. Click on the link and the whole paper will download... then you can jump to page 13.
I remember this feeling... but, I don't know if I've seen it put so eloquently.
Putting on your belt doesn't look quite the same, yet... so very familiar.
Edit: It's now available, so I'm posting it here. Originally in "Stars and Stripes"
Opinion: My respect for ‘quiet clay’ is loud and clear
By Dr. (Col.) W. Thomas Frank
European edition, Tuesday, September 26, 2006
Editor’s Note: This column appeared Sept. 26 on the Opinion page in the Mideast, European and Pacific editions.
It’s Sunday in Afghanistan.
I was sitting — completing some clerical task or other — when the patient administration clerk stood at the door.
“Sir, mortuary affairs needs a doctor.”
“What?” I replied. “The last place they should need a doctor is mortuary affairs.”
“No, sir. They need a doctor to sign some death certificates.”
Usually on a Sunday, I can finish my work a little early and take some time off in my hooch — watch a movie, read or nap. I was eager to do so now.
I walked to the ER to see if the doc there was busy. If not, he could do this. This is a task that would usually fall upon the ER doc, but I suspected he was engaged. The telltale sound of a chopper outside suggested more business was at hand. The doc in the ER was working on a wounded American soldier.
“All right, I’ll go,” I muttered, an irritated edge in my voice.
The mortuary affairs sergeant picked me up in his white van — unmarked except for a white placard in the window that declared “Mortuary Affairs” for all to see. We drove up the ironically named “Disney Drive” — which is, in fact, named for a dead American soldier rather than for the fairy tale king — until we came to the little plywood hut that is mortuary affairs.
Outside were several stacks of oblong aluminum boxes labeled “head” on one end and “feet” on the other. Inside the building was cool and it had a tiled floor — a distinctly unusual feature for these field buildings. The tile here of course has a purpose. It can be easily washed, and there is a drain in the center.
In the middle of the room were three stretchers on stretcher stands. On each stretcher was a body bag.
“Here you go,” said a soldier who handed me a clipboard with a piece of paper on it. A death certificate.
He walked over to the first bag and, without flourish, unzipped it and pulled it open. Before me lay a young man perhaps 19 or 20. His eyes closed. His uniform in tatters. The flesh of his face and torso seared a brown color but not blackened.
Across his chest and flanks, large patches of flesh hung off in loose swatches. There was a large wound in his lower left leg.
I picked up the clipboard and stared blankly at the form.
“Cause of death.” What was it? That leg wound clearly wasn’t the cause.
I asked the soldier to lift the head of the corpse so I would know if there was any obvious brain injury. No. The head was intact. His mouth and nose were clearly burned, however. The last gulps of air he took into his lungs were on fire. He died of “burns.”
The next bag was unzipped. I stepped back. It was a woman. I hadn’t expected a woman.
Her arms were reaching up in front of her, her fingers having a grasping aspect — as if they were trying to steal back life from the lifeless air around her.
Where her head should have been, there was only a chin. Her uniform blouse was pulled up a bit revealing a regulation brown T-shirt tucked into her trousers.
Her belt, I noted, was exactly like mine. Store-bought, nonissue variety. It was pulled tight — just the way she had done it yesterday morning. Tomorrow someone else would loosen it.
I picked up the clipboard. “Cause of death.” I obviously couldn’t write “head blown off.” I thought for a minute. “Traumatic brain injury.” I first printed, then signed my name.
In the clerk’s office of this girl’s hometown, three pieces of paper would likely summarize her life — a birth certificate, a marriage certificate and a death certificate.
Now the third bag was opened. This soldier looked younger. His face was less altered by death. Aside from a few places where his skin was scorched, his face looked like that of one asleep.
Strange, I thought. He looks a little like me.
Below his neck his uniform was in disarray. His skin was burnt. There was a large defect in his groin where his thigh joined the hip, both legs nearly separated below the knees. “Cause of death — burns.”
I stood back. It was so quiet. A poet once referred to a corpse as “quiet clay.” How odd, I thought when I first read it. How true, I thought, as I looked upon these three dead American soldiers. They never expected to die. Given a choice they would not be dead now.
They, like me, had read each day the names and number of the day’s dead in our newspaper, Stars and Stripes. They, like me, never thought their names would one day appear. They were driving down the road. They never saw the blast. Their vehicle was engulfed in flames. One had died in the explosion — instantly. The other two could not get out before being consumed by the fire. So now there were three dead American soldiers.
They were dealt a bad hand. Today I considered something I had never before given much thought — the fact that I, too, am playing at the same table.
I have six more months of hands to play. Six more months of hands to be dealt. Like me, they too were married. They too expected to return to their lives again. When they pulled their belts tight … they expected to loosen them again. Now someone else will loosen them.
I felt some shame for the frustration that I had expressed before coming here.
The driver took me back to the hospital. The duty physician and a couple of other docs were still working on our fresh casualties in the ER.
I finished my work at my desk without much heart and was surprised when the loudspeaker system announced there would be a fallen comrade ceremony in one hour. The bodies would be flown out today. I hadn’t expected that.
At the appointed time, I joined the commander and the sergeant major and we drove out to the airfield where a C-17 was waiting with the ramp down. The senior officers of the installation stood on the tarmac nearest the airplane, as they always do for these occasions.
All along the road for a mile or so — from mortuary affairs to the airfield — soldiers lined up to pay their respects to the “quiet clay” as it proceeded to the airfield. For these few minutes most, I suspect, were aware that we are all playing at the same table — and every day each of us is dealt a new hand. Soon we were called to attention and then, to the strains of the dead march, the colors passed by and the aluminum boxes were carried past, now draped with flags.
I go to ceremonies like this at least once or twice a week. But today was different. I had seen these soldiers — I knew what was in those boxes.
Usually, once the coffins have been brought up the ramp, we stand at attention on the tarmac, while the generals and a few of those who served with the dead go up the ramp of the airplane and pay respects at the boxes themselves. Today we went into the airplane, too, because two of them were medics.
Each person in the plane walked past the coffins and knelt — most in prayer. I rested my hand on each box and said to myself, “I’m sorry this happened to you.”
Tomorrow, when I cinch my belt, I will think of three dead American soldiers and I will think of my wife and my daughter and of home.
24 September 2006
Finally - The Kittens Win
So happy the kittens, er... Carolina Panthers, finally won a game. As with teams named Carolina that play football (see my other favorite team, the Chickens, South Carolina Gamecocks), even a win had to be down to the wire... down to the last seven seconds or so.
Sigh.
But a win is a win, and it's nice to finally have one.
Didn't get to actually see the game (AFN didn't carry it), but was able to follow it via the Internet game services.
Now, next week... well, the Chickens will be devoured like they were served at KFC and the Kittens? Who knows... who knows...
Sigh.
But a win is a win, and it's nice to finally have one.
Didn't get to actually see the game (AFN didn't carry it), but was able to follow it via the Internet game services.
Now, next week... well, the Chickens will be devoured like they were served at KFC and the Kittens? Who knows... who knows...
23 September 2006
66 Countries
I am stunned. So many visitors from so far away to our little corner of the Net. Curious what brings you by? Did a search for "Afghanistan" (used to be more accurate once upon a time)? Curious, curious...
Where are you from?
Will you be back?
What brought you here?
Where are you from?
Will you be back?
What brought you here?
Ads
I've broken down and added advertising to the blog. I've held out. I always wanted my little corner of the Net to be just my diary and place to share experiences.
But, it's another revenue stream source, and... we need it, so:
Please take a look at the ads you see and from time to time, should you see something interesting, please click on the advertisement. Those advertising will thank you... and so will we.
(I feel so dirty, but... anyway, back to blogging.)
But, it's another revenue stream source, and... we need it, so:
Please take a look at the ads you see and from time to time, should you see something interesting, please click on the advertisement. Those advertising will thank you... and so will we.
(I feel so dirty, but... anyway, back to blogging.)
22 September 2006
Blog of War
Finished the book, Blog of War, recently. First off, for those that might want to find it at a book store, you can always use the ISBN - 0743294181.
This book really took me home. It's a compilation of dispatches from quite a few of the milblogs that are out there. Quite a few of them are blogs I've visited from time to time.
It's absolutely amazing how detailed their writing is. Yes, it's filled with lots of coarse language and gruesome details, but what else would you expect from what is essentially a collection of personal diaries of combat veterans?
Some of the posts that really grabbed me on one level or another were Saving Specialist Gray and Taking Chance. Very moving... but then, so many of them were.
I could not put this book down. There were parts that were eerie, when I would read an excerpt from a blog that was clearly (to me, anyway) referencing an event that I'd been connected to (in one way or another) and recognizing the link.
I wish I could buy a copy for everyone I know.
This book really took me home. It's a compilation of dispatches from quite a few of the milblogs that are out there. Quite a few of them are blogs I've visited from time to time.
It's absolutely amazing how detailed their writing is. Yes, it's filled with lots of coarse language and gruesome details, but what else would you expect from what is essentially a collection of personal diaries of combat veterans?
Some of the posts that really grabbed me on one level or another were Saving Specialist Gray and Taking Chance. Very moving... but then, so many of them were.
I could not put this book down. There were parts that were eerie, when I would read an excerpt from a blog that was clearly (to me, anyway) referencing an event that I'd been connected to (in one way or another) and recognizing the link.
I wish I could buy a copy for everyone I know.
Whoops... Shouldn't Have Read That
I was browsing through the archives (not really important why, but was looking for a name) and came across this one.
It's listed as one of the "Fan Favorites" and I've often received compliments on the writing of it, but... to be honest, I haven't read it in a long time.
Wish I hadn't. Not so much because of remembering the death of my buddy... for one, that never really goes away, and it's not something you avoid.
Surprisingly, it was for all the other stuff that came back. Vividly. Just the sense of being in Kandahar and Afghanistan. The shop, the office, the people. Heat, smells, the gravel.
Guess there's a difference between recollecting and casual rememberance.
And I wonder how guys who've really been in the thick of it handle it. Gee, my time in the Stan was fairly tame, all things considered. Lots of things I'd like to forget... lots, but...
And then, while prepping this post, I noticed the date on the old one. Has it really been a year?
Sigh.
It's listed as one of the "Fan Favorites" and I've often received compliments on the writing of it, but... to be honest, I haven't read it in a long time.
Wish I hadn't. Not so much because of remembering the death of my buddy... for one, that never really goes away, and it's not something you avoid.
Surprisingly, it was for all the other stuff that came back. Vividly. Just the sense of being in Kandahar and Afghanistan. The shop, the office, the people. Heat, smells, the gravel.
Guess there's a difference between recollecting and casual rememberance.
And I wonder how guys who've really been in the thick of it handle it. Gee, my time in the Stan was fairly tame, all things considered. Lots of things I'd like to forget... lots, but...
And then, while prepping this post, I noticed the date on the old one. Has it really been a year?
Sigh.
More on Landstuhl
Some remarkable events occurred while we were at Landstuhl, though it's such a big hospital, we were completely oblivious to them at the time.
In the maternity ward, the staff used the wonderful tools of the Internet to connect Mother and newborn daughter with the father serving in Kuwait. You can read the story here.
Also, the men of Easy Company, popularlized as the "Band of Brothers" in the HBO miniseries, are touring some sites in Germany. On the 21st, they were in Landstuhl. I so wish we would have had time and the opportunity to meet these trueheroes... And what honorable men they are to take their time to visit our Soldiers today. I visited their website and noticed that they'd even posted a small tribute to our Illesheim pilots who died in the recent training accident.
These men are well and true heroes of our time. May we one day live to uphold their virtues and may we never need men like these again.
In the maternity ward, the staff used the wonderful tools of the Internet to connect Mother and newborn daughter with the father serving in Kuwait. You can read the story here.
Also, the men of Easy Company, popularlized as the "Band of Brothers" in the HBO miniseries, are touring some sites in Germany. On the 21st, they were in Landstuhl. I so wish we would have had time and the opportunity to meet these trueheroes... And what honorable men they are to take their time to visit our Soldiers today. I visited their website and noticed that they'd even posted a small tribute to our Illesheim pilots who died in the recent training accident.
These men are well and true heroes of our time. May we one day live to uphold their virtues and may we never need men like these again.
Landstuhl Regional Medical Center
Well, we recently returned from a brief pilgrimage to Landstuhl. With the recent drawdowns, it's also now the only hospital around.
It's about a four hour drive from our base, so it takes a bit of a journey to get there.
We went for a couple of reasons. One, to get another set of brain lobes looking at her case. Another, was to be able to discuss her case in full English sentences. Lastly, to integrate her case with the military health knowledge system.
Overall, a successful trip.
More later...
It's about a four hour drive from our base, so it takes a bit of a journey to get there.
We went for a couple of reasons. One, to get another set of brain lobes looking at her case. Another, was to be able to discuss her case in full English sentences. Lastly, to integrate her case with the military health knowledge system.
Overall, a successful trip.
More later...
Army Plans to Cut Family Programs
From Stars & Stripes:
Expect more cuts in family support programs, Army warns
By Leo Shane III, Stars and Stripes
European edition, Friday, September 22, 2006
WASHINGTON — Army officials have told base commanders to prepare for even deeper cuts in family support programs and other non-war-related expenses next fiscal year.
In June, the Army announced cuts in base discretionary spending and other non-war expenses to offset unexpected costs associated with military operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. Even after Congress approved supplemental military funding in response, service officials said they would continue to curb spending.
And although the fiscal 2007 defense budget is still being debated in Congress, Army officials already have warned base commanders that they’ll likely face more belt tightening under next year’s budget because of the ongoing combat operations.
“The time of having as much money as bases want for everything they want to do is gone,” said Stephen Oertwig, spokesman for the Army Installation Management Agency. “We don’t know what the exact budget will be, but we know it will be a very austere budget.”
On Thursday, military family advocates warned that further cuts in vital family support programs could jeopardize military readiness by distracting soldiers.
“When families need these programs the most, they shouldn’t be asked to do without,” said Joyce Raezer, director of government relations for the National Military Family Association. “Those soldiers need to know that their families are being taken care of.”
The House Armed Service Committee’s ranking Democrat, Missouri’s Rep. Ike Skelton, said the Army received about $500 million less for base maintenance and programs this year because of the unexpected extra war costs.
Raezer said she’s already heard concerns from military spouses worldwide about the cuts. At Fort Bragg in North Carolina, families have seen cuts in staff at the base child-care facilities. At Fort Campbell in Kentucky, the hours and staff at the Family Readiness Assistance Center have been scaled back.
In Germany, several teen internship programs at Friedberg and Giessen Army facilities were canceled, leaving more than 40 dependents without planned summer jobs.
Raezer said other problems, such as shorter dining hall hours and part-time military spouses losing their on-base jobs, are widespread.
Oertwig said commanders have been open and honest with military families about the potential program cuts, to help them prepare for the changes.
“Our local commanders know what their audience needs, and it’s their job to balance the issues on a tight budget,” he said. “It’s not something that’s being ignored. All of our commanders are doing the best they can to take care of these families.”
House and Senate negotiators are currently finalizing the 2007 Defense budget and are expected to complete their work in the next few days.
Expect more cuts in family support programs, Army warns
By Leo Shane III, Stars and Stripes
European edition, Friday, September 22, 2006
WASHINGTON — Army officials have told base commanders to prepare for even deeper cuts in family support programs and other non-war-related expenses next fiscal year.
In June, the Army announced cuts in base discretionary spending and other non-war expenses to offset unexpected costs associated with military operations in Iraq and Afghanistan. Even after Congress approved supplemental military funding in response, service officials said they would continue to curb spending.
And although the fiscal 2007 defense budget is still being debated in Congress, Army officials already have warned base commanders that they’ll likely face more belt tightening under next year’s budget because of the ongoing combat operations.
“The time of having as much money as bases want for everything they want to do is gone,” said Stephen Oertwig, spokesman for the Army Installation Management Agency. “We don’t know what the exact budget will be, but we know it will be a very austere budget.”
On Thursday, military family advocates warned that further cuts in vital family support programs could jeopardize military readiness by distracting soldiers.
“When families need these programs the most, they shouldn’t be asked to do without,” said Joyce Raezer, director of government relations for the National Military Family Association. “Those soldiers need to know that their families are being taken care of.”
The House Armed Service Committee’s ranking Democrat, Missouri’s Rep. Ike Skelton, said the Army received about $500 million less for base maintenance and programs this year because of the unexpected extra war costs.
Raezer said she’s already heard concerns from military spouses worldwide about the cuts. At Fort Bragg in North Carolina, families have seen cuts in staff at the base child-care facilities. At Fort Campbell in Kentucky, the hours and staff at the Family Readiness Assistance Center have been scaled back.
In Germany, several teen internship programs at Friedberg and Giessen Army facilities were canceled, leaving more than 40 dependents without planned summer jobs.
Raezer said other problems, such as shorter dining hall hours and part-time military spouses losing their on-base jobs, are widespread.
Oertwig said commanders have been open and honest with military families about the potential program cuts, to help them prepare for the changes.
“Our local commanders know what their audience needs, and it’s their job to balance the issues on a tight budget,” he said. “It’s not something that’s being ignored. All of our commanders are doing the best they can to take care of these families.”
House and Senate negotiators are currently finalizing the 2007 Defense budget and are expected to complete their work in the next few days.
21 September 2006
A Sad Day in Illesheim
From the "Stars and Stripes" website...
Two soldiers killed in helicopter crash at Grafenwöhr
By Seth Robson, Stars and Stripes
Mideast edition, Thursday, September 21, 2006
September 21 update from The Associated Press:
BERLIN — The U.S. Army on Thursday identified two American soldiers killed in a helicopter crash during a training mission in southern Germany.
Chief Warrant Officer Timothy R. Breneman and Chief Warrant Officer Terry M. Thomas, both of the 1st Armored Division’s 12th Combat Aviation Brigade, were killed in Tuesday night’s crash at the Grafenwöhr Training Area, the Army said.
Breneman, 36, was piloting the AH-64D Apache Longbow, and Thomas, 31, served as the co-pilot gunner.
Thomas died at the scene of the crash, and Breneman died nearly two hours later at the university hospital in Regensburg. The
soldiers’ hometowns were not immediately available.
GRAFENWÖHR, Germany — Two 1st Armored Division soldiers were killed late Tuesday night when their Apache Longbow helicopter crashed in a heavily wooded part of the training area, officials said Wednesday.
The soldiers were assigned to 1st AD’s 12th Combat Aviation Brigade and were based at Illesheim Army Airfield, Germany. Their names were being withheld pending notification of next of kin, 1st Armored Division officials said in a statement issued Wednesday.
Maj. Wayne Marotto, 1st AD’s public affairs officer, said the cause of the crash was under investigation. No other personnel were injured in the accident, he said.
“The Army is a close-knit family and the loss of our own affects all of us. A tragedy of this type is felt by each and every member, but we will pull together to help our own. We wish to express our deepest condolences to the family members of the two pilots,” he said.
“I can assure you the Army will conduct a thorough investigation in the hope something like this will never happen again.”
The 12th CAB has been at Grafenwöhr since Sept. 5 conducting annual aerial gunnery exercises. The training involved Apache crews training on a series of qualification tables to test their ability to engage and destroy targets with the helicopter’s weapons, Marotto said.
“The entire brigade continues to conduct Iron Warrior convoy live-fire training on the ground, but aerial gunnery has been temporarily suspended in light of the aircraft accident,” he said.
Joint Multinational Training Command spokesman Chuck Gordon said the aircraft was training on Grafenwöhr’s Range 301 when the accident happened.
“It went down in the area of ranges 301 and 305,” he said.
JMTC did not have information about where the aircraft began its flight. Aircraft operating in the training area often take off from Grafenwöhr Army Air Field, but helicopters are able to take off and land from many different places in the training area.
JMTC refused a request to visit or photograph the crash site on Wednesday.
“The aircraft went down in heavily wooded terrain within the impact area. It is also heavily ‘dud-ed.’ In other words, there is a great amount of unexploded ordnance from years past training,” Gordon said.
The terrain and ordnance created a delay for rescue crews in getting to the aircraft, Marotto said, but recovery efforts were under way Wednesday.
The helicopter crash is the second accident involving U.S. aircraft in Germany this month.
Last week, an Air Force F-16 fighter jet based at Spangdahlem Air Base crashed while on a training flight in western Germany. The pilot ejected safely.
The pilot in that crash had to ditch his plane after a landing gear malfunction. The aircraft crashed near the village of Oberkeil, the Air Force said. U.S. Air Force officials are investigating.
Rest in Peace, Sirs.
Two soldiers killed in helicopter crash at Grafenwöhr
By Seth Robson, Stars and Stripes
Mideast edition, Thursday, September 21, 2006
September 21 update from The Associated Press:
BERLIN — The U.S. Army on Thursday identified two American soldiers killed in a helicopter crash during a training mission in southern Germany.
Chief Warrant Officer Timothy R. Breneman and Chief Warrant Officer Terry M. Thomas, both of the 1st Armored Division’s 12th Combat Aviation Brigade, were killed in Tuesday night’s crash at the Grafenwöhr Training Area, the Army said.
Breneman, 36, was piloting the AH-64D Apache Longbow, and Thomas, 31, served as the co-pilot gunner.
Thomas died at the scene of the crash, and Breneman died nearly two hours later at the university hospital in Regensburg. The
soldiers’ hometowns were not immediately available.
GRAFENWÖHR, Germany — Two 1st Armored Division soldiers were killed late Tuesday night when their Apache Longbow helicopter crashed in a heavily wooded part of the training area, officials said Wednesday.
The soldiers were assigned to 1st AD’s 12th Combat Aviation Brigade and were based at Illesheim Army Airfield, Germany. Their names were being withheld pending notification of next of kin, 1st Armored Division officials said in a statement issued Wednesday.
Maj. Wayne Marotto, 1st AD’s public affairs officer, said the cause of the crash was under investigation. No other personnel were injured in the accident, he said.
“The Army is a close-knit family and the loss of our own affects all of us. A tragedy of this type is felt by each and every member, but we will pull together to help our own. We wish to express our deepest condolences to the family members of the two pilots,” he said.
“I can assure you the Army will conduct a thorough investigation in the hope something like this will never happen again.”
The 12th CAB has been at Grafenwöhr since Sept. 5 conducting annual aerial gunnery exercises. The training involved Apache crews training on a series of qualification tables to test their ability to engage and destroy targets with the helicopter’s weapons, Marotto said.
“The entire brigade continues to conduct Iron Warrior convoy live-fire training on the ground, but aerial gunnery has been temporarily suspended in light of the aircraft accident,” he said.
Joint Multinational Training Command spokesman Chuck Gordon said the aircraft was training on Grafenwöhr’s Range 301 when the accident happened.
“It went down in the area of ranges 301 and 305,” he said.
JMTC did not have information about where the aircraft began its flight. Aircraft operating in the training area often take off from Grafenwöhr Army Air Field, but helicopters are able to take off and land from many different places in the training area.
JMTC refused a request to visit or photograph the crash site on Wednesday.
“The aircraft went down in heavily wooded terrain within the impact area. It is also heavily ‘dud-ed.’ In other words, there is a great amount of unexploded ordnance from years past training,” Gordon said.
The terrain and ordnance created a delay for rescue crews in getting to the aircraft, Marotto said, but recovery efforts were under way Wednesday.
The helicopter crash is the second accident involving U.S. aircraft in Germany this month.
Last week, an Air Force F-16 fighter jet based at Spangdahlem Air Base crashed while on a training flight in western Germany. The pilot ejected safely.
The pilot in that crash had to ditch his plane after a landing gear malfunction. The aircraft crashed near the village of Oberkeil, the Air Force said. U.S. Air Force officials are investigating.
Rest in Peace, Sirs.
16 September 2006
Home
Brought Ellicia home today.
13 days in the hospital. Solitary confinement hell, I have to tell you. She was climbing the walls and threatening to tie the sheets together and climb out the window. She'd have done it, too. Don't blame her.
It's so difficult in a German hospital. Especially for Americans who don't know the language. And the farther from base, and the support center, it's worse.
Her luck, she has it all. Far away, no language, stuck.
Can't watch TV, unless you want to live on CNN International. And since one of her hospital days was 11 September, you can imagine what that was like to watch.
You can read... as long as the drugs and boredom allow you to concentrate...
Word puzzles...
I left her with my iPod... it helps, but like most things becomes tiresome.
Cell phones are verboten, so she has to keep it hidden...
Food? Uh oh... let's not get started on that.
And anyone to talk to? No, not really.
So, after awhile, you've done all of your activities, and you're left alone... waiting for the next soul to walk in who speaks five words of English, craving those five words, desperate for a sixth or seventh.
Waiting for the next too-brief visit from anyone who might come and visit...
And then you stare at the walls, and think.
Not the best in this situation. And after 13 days...
Anyways, we're ecstatic to have her home. Yes, she moves slowly... the right leg is pretty much shot. It supports weight, but she has to move it like a peg leg.
Don't let her handle any breakables...
And she is showing signs of the side-effects of the treatment... Twice a day, she gets what we call "brain freeze", where she's just... gone for an hour or so. She can't concentrate. Not really able to think, so we sit her somewhere and wait for her to "come back".
Don't care. It may seem like I'm now a father of four, but... my friend is home... and I can sleep a bit better.
Now, to keep her here.
13 days in the hospital. Solitary confinement hell, I have to tell you. She was climbing the walls and threatening to tie the sheets together and climb out the window. She'd have done it, too. Don't blame her.
It's so difficult in a German hospital. Especially for Americans who don't know the language. And the farther from base, and the support center, it's worse.
Her luck, she has it all. Far away, no language, stuck.
Can't watch TV, unless you want to live on CNN International. And since one of her hospital days was 11 September, you can imagine what that was like to watch.
You can read... as long as the drugs and boredom allow you to concentrate...
Word puzzles...
I left her with my iPod... it helps, but like most things becomes tiresome.
Cell phones are verboten, so she has to keep it hidden...
Food? Uh oh... let's not get started on that.
And anyone to talk to? No, not really.
So, after awhile, you've done all of your activities, and you're left alone... waiting for the next soul to walk in who speaks five words of English, craving those five words, desperate for a sixth or seventh.
Waiting for the next too-brief visit from anyone who might come and visit...
And then you stare at the walls, and think.
Not the best in this situation. And after 13 days...
Anyways, we're ecstatic to have her home. Yes, she moves slowly... the right leg is pretty much shot. It supports weight, but she has to move it like a peg leg.
Don't let her handle any breakables...
And she is showing signs of the side-effects of the treatment... Twice a day, she gets what we call "brain freeze", where she's just... gone for an hour or so. She can't concentrate. Not really able to think, so we sit her somewhere and wait for her to "come back".
Don't care. It may seem like I'm now a father of four, but... my friend is home... and I can sleep a bit better.
Now, to keep her here.
14 September 2006
Microsoft Access Experts
Hey... if anyone out there is a Microsoft Access expert, I could use a hand... I have enough knowledge to be dangerous, but I need to do a better database than what I have...
Can you help?
Thanks.
Can you help?
Thanks.
13 September 2006
Fundraiser
Ok, we have finally received word back from the military. Hospice care is not covered. Which means, any home care we provide Ellicia here will be out of our own pocket.
This is going to be expensive. So, reluctantly, and humbly, we'd like to ask those of you who stop by...
Please help. Anything will be appreciated. Ellicia will likely need home care as her mind shuts down. And she wants to be at home, not in a hospital... home, surrounded by our children.
For more information or questions you may have, please contact me through the blog.
Thank you.
This is going to be expensive. So, reluctantly, and humbly, we'd like to ask those of you who stop by...
Please help. Anything will be appreciated. Ellicia will likely need home care as her mind shuts down. And she wants to be at home, not in a hospital... home, surrounded by our children.
For more information or questions you may have, please contact me through the blog.
Thank you.
12 September 2006
Pro Deo et Patria
Our Chaplain is awesome. She continues to make long drives to see Ellicia, and calls me daily (if I should slip and not call her.)
Turns out, she's Episcopalian. So, when she discovered we're EpiscoLutherans, she made another trip to give Ellicia and I Holy Communion.
It was Ellicia's first experience with a field Holy Communion.
What a wonderful experience... and we're lucky to have a good Chaplain.
Turns out, she's Episcopalian. So, when she discovered we're EpiscoLutherans, she made another trip to give Ellicia and I Holy Communion.
It was Ellicia's first experience with a field Holy Communion.
What a wonderful experience... and we're lucky to have a good Chaplain.
11 September 2006
Remembering 11 September
I'm sure in the States you couldn't turn on a news channel without each doing their special coverage of the fifth anniversary of the attacks. We watched CNN in the hospital, and one thing noticed was how the commentators just could not stop talking - even over the moments of silence and the National Anthem.
Sadly, apparently they feel a need to remind people what happened on 11 September. Who doesn't know? I'm not talking about those who wish to pretend it didn't happen, or that the government did it, or Bush knew, etc... but who doesn't know that the towers fell, the Pentagon was attacked, and there was another plane that didn't quite make it to the target?
It was interesting to see rare (on network news anyway) footage of the attacks. It's "too difficult" for us to watch, right? More likely, it's necessary for us to watch, but it's easier to forget about 11 September if we don't let anyone be reminded of it.
I encourage looking at this video. It's a different viewpoint than we're used to seeing. It's home camera footage from an apartment a block or so away from the WTC. Like watching Titanic, you know what's coming next, but you watch anyway. You're engrossed... Maybe this time, it won't happen.
Take a look. Yes, it's long, but can't we all spare some time to remember?
Click Here To Go To Video
Sadly, apparently they feel a need to remind people what happened on 11 September. Who doesn't know? I'm not talking about those who wish to pretend it didn't happen, or that the government did it, or Bush knew, etc... but who doesn't know that the towers fell, the Pentagon was attacked, and there was another plane that didn't quite make it to the target?
It was interesting to see rare (on network news anyway) footage of the attacks. It's "too difficult" for us to watch, right? More likely, it's necessary for us to watch, but it's easier to forget about 11 September if we don't let anyone be reminded of it.
I encourage looking at this video. It's a different viewpoint than we're used to seeing. It's home camera footage from an apartment a block or so away from the WTC. Like watching Titanic, you know what's coming next, but you watch anyway. You're engrossed... Maybe this time, it won't happen.
Take a look. Yes, it's long, but can't we all spare some time to remember?
Click Here To Go To Video
One Chapter Closed... Another Begins
We changed hospitals today. She has essentially recovered from her mastectomy. Sure, the staples are still there, and every now a little bit of pain (phantom pain, like it's still there.) But, she's doing much better. Why, if it weren't for that trifling matter of a brain tumor here and there... she'd be ready to come home!
But, they are there.
So, it was time to change hospitals. The main hospital in Ansbach, which coincidentally is nice and close to us, is home to a radio-oncologist in whom quite a few people put their faith and hope. He's treated over 30,000 patients, and with any luck, we'll make Ellicia one of his success stories.
They dived right in, too. Started off with making a plastic mask of her head. This is to ensure that her head can be completely mapped. The mapping is needed to the computer will aim the radiation the same way each time.
Each time. The treatment plan currently calls for us starting treatment on Wednesday. She'll receive a treatment every day (except weekends) for a month.
We inquired about treatments such as the "Gamma Knife", however she doesn't qualify. With so many tumors, the only option left is to completely irradiate her head. All of it. Like leftover chicken in the microwave, as we joked about it.
There are potential side-effects. The doctor was quite concerned that she know she'll lose her hair. Pah! We're trying not to lose HER! Other effects are more dramatic. She can lose memory, concentration, and her vision can be affected (though that can be remedied with treatment - apparently the one that is also used for senior citizens with cataracts.)
Not wild about the potential side effects, but... what can we do? We KNOW what the result without treatment is...
So, starting tomorrow, is Baked Leeshy... cook at max power for 90 seconds!
But, they are there.
So, it was time to change hospitals. The main hospital in Ansbach, which coincidentally is nice and close to us, is home to a radio-oncologist in whom quite a few people put their faith and hope. He's treated over 30,000 patients, and with any luck, we'll make Ellicia one of his success stories.
They dived right in, too. Started off with making a plastic mask of her head. This is to ensure that her head can be completely mapped. The mapping is needed to the computer will aim the radiation the same way each time.
Each time. The treatment plan currently calls for us starting treatment on Wednesday. She'll receive a treatment every day (except weekends) for a month.
We inquired about treatments such as the "Gamma Knife", however she doesn't qualify. With so many tumors, the only option left is to completely irradiate her head. All of it. Like leftover chicken in the microwave, as we joked about it.
There are potential side-effects. The doctor was quite concerned that she know she'll lose her hair. Pah! We're trying not to lose HER! Other effects are more dramatic. She can lose memory, concentration, and her vision can be affected (though that can be remedied with treatment - apparently the one that is also used for senior citizens with cataracts.)
Not wild about the potential side effects, but... what can we do? We KNOW what the result without treatment is...
So, starting tomorrow, is Baked Leeshy... cook at max power for 90 seconds!
09 September 2006
Why Don't We Leave?
The Army is gracious. One of the first questions out of the box of everyone in a command position to us is, "Do you want Compassionate Reassignment?"
What is Compassionate Reassignment? CR is a way to bypass the normal Army channels and procedures on serving a tour. Normally, a Soldier is assigned to a post for a set length of time. CR bypasses those regs and lets a Soldier go back to the States immediately.
CR's are good for 365 days. No more. And there's the rub. Normally, I'd jump at the CR. Back in the States, no more language barriers, no more excess costs, long drives, scarcity of supplies, distance from family, etc.
But, if we use the CR now, then in 365 days, I could be assigned anywhere. Korea, a unit deploying... anywhere. What if we're not done with this battle yet? Too bad.
So, I hold off on pushing the CR button until absolutely needed.
There are other reasons, too. My unit, which is exceptionally supportive, is here.
Our friends are here.
Our doctors are here.
Our home is here.
Our stuff is here.
In short, our life is here. Just as the Army wants you to, when we moved here, we fully integrated ourselves into the area. To move now is quite disruptive.
But... the CR is there... and I'm sure, at some point, I'll push that button and push it hard...
Just not yet.
What is Compassionate Reassignment? CR is a way to bypass the normal Army channels and procedures on serving a tour. Normally, a Soldier is assigned to a post for a set length of time. CR bypasses those regs and lets a Soldier go back to the States immediately.
CR's are good for 365 days. No more. And there's the rub. Normally, I'd jump at the CR. Back in the States, no more language barriers, no more excess costs, long drives, scarcity of supplies, distance from family, etc.
But, if we use the CR now, then in 365 days, I could be assigned anywhere. Korea, a unit deploying... anywhere. What if we're not done with this battle yet? Too bad.
So, I hold off on pushing the CR button until absolutely needed.
There are other reasons, too. My unit, which is exceptionally supportive, is here.
Our friends are here.
Our doctors are here.
Our home is here.
Our stuff is here.
In short, our life is here. Just as the Army wants you to, when we moved here, we fully integrated ourselves into the area. To move now is quite disruptive.
But... the CR is there... and I'm sure, at some point, I'll push that button and push it hard...
Just not yet.
06 September 2006
Update
I'm going to try to post some updates tomorrow... haven't had any luck getting it to work out tonight... going to try to sleep tonight... haven't slept much lately, so... hoping I can.
Thank you ALL for your comments. Y'all are wonderful
Thank you ALL for your comments. Y'all are wonderful
04 September 2006
Suicide Bombers
On the way to the hospital, Ellicia and I were amusing ourselves with various inanities...
And somehow, we got to female suicide bombers.
You know it's going to be a real problem if they start using a lot of these folks. I mean, a male suicide bomber is only wearing an explosive vest. However, you just know that the women bomber will have to have the matching explosive purse, the matching explosive pumps, and the matching explosive belt. Of course, with any luck, there'll also be the matching explosive earrings. Hahaha.
And somehow, we got to female suicide bombers.
You know it's going to be a real problem if they start using a lot of these folks. I mean, a male suicide bomber is only wearing an explosive vest. However, you just know that the women bomber will have to have the matching explosive purse, the matching explosive pumps, and the matching explosive belt. Of course, with any luck, there'll also be the matching explosive earrings. Hahaha.
At the Hospital
Well, we went to the hospital today. It was a long drive. Really. It's an hour and a half trip.
We left late. E stalled a good bit, and so we slept longer than we should have.
Dropped the kids off with my First Sergeant (how cool is that?). Except for M, who started her first day at German Kindergarten. She was quite excited.
Anyway, we went there and checked in. Doc sat us down and we briefed back and forth. He looked absolutely resigned and defeated. Spoke optimistically.
Surgery is Tuesday. It'll be the whole breast, and anything else they see while they're in there.
The biopsy came back positive for the breast tumors, but we pretty much knew that already.
Several tumors in the lungs, a few of them of decent size. They might radiate her chest after they do the surgery.
They're also going to do a slew of tests, since she's in the hospital...
So.
After we chatted and hugged, and I had all her stuff put away, had checked her in with hospital administration (I'm getting good at hospital German), and hooked up all her electronic comfort items (iPod, cell phone...), it was time to leave.
It was a long drive home. I've left her in hospitals before... but this was different. Same as when I came into the house and it felt so empty. It felt like practice instead of just another hospital visit. Practice driving home alone, practice coming back to the empty house, practice being with the kids alone.
Anyway... have a busy day Tuesday. Lots of appointments with Chaplains, the clinic, Army Community Service, Army Emergency Relief, WIC, Central Enrollment, etc...
and my own eye appointment. It's time to see how my eye surgery is going.
And at the end of it all, today, Top cooked a BBQ for us. What an amazing Soldier. I have such immense respect for him. Even more so now.
Well, all for now.
We left late. E stalled a good bit, and so we slept longer than we should have.
Dropped the kids off with my First Sergeant (how cool is that?). Except for M, who started her first day at German Kindergarten. She was quite excited.
Anyway, we went there and checked in. Doc sat us down and we briefed back and forth. He looked absolutely resigned and defeated. Spoke optimistically.
Surgery is Tuesday. It'll be the whole breast, and anything else they see while they're in there.
The biopsy came back positive for the breast tumors, but we pretty much knew that already.
Several tumors in the lungs, a few of them of decent size. They might radiate her chest after they do the surgery.
They're also going to do a slew of tests, since she's in the hospital...
So.
After we chatted and hugged, and I had all her stuff put away, had checked her in with hospital administration (I'm getting good at hospital German), and hooked up all her electronic comfort items (iPod, cell phone...), it was time to leave.
It was a long drive home. I've left her in hospitals before... but this was different. Same as when I came into the house and it felt so empty. It felt like practice instead of just another hospital visit. Practice driving home alone, practice coming back to the empty house, practice being with the kids alone.
Anyway... have a busy day Tuesday. Lots of appointments with Chaplains, the clinic, Army Community Service, Army Emergency Relief, WIC, Central Enrollment, etc...
and my own eye appointment. It's time to see how my eye surgery is going.
And at the end of it all, today, Top cooked a BBQ for us. What an amazing Soldier. I have such immense respect for him. Even more so now.
Well, all for now.
03 September 2006
My Hardest Post
I've been working on this post for days. Typing it, deleting it, reworking it...
It's not gotten any easier.
I've had so much I've wanted to write, and quite frankly, it's just been too difficult to write this post, thus making the others not worth writing.
Prologue
The last few days of our leave, Leesh started having some real difficulties. Dizziness, walking, nausea, balance, numbness in arms and legs... all of these were problems she was having. We figured that she'd perhaps overdone it on the vacation, or twisted something. Either way, to be sure, I made an appointment for the first thing Monday after we got back (It meant being on the phone at 0400 in the States to do it, but it seemed important. I take no chances.)
We made our sojourn back to Germany (an ordeal I do not want to endure again anytime soon, thankyouverymuch...). Settled in... and on Monday (28 August), off she went to her appointment and I back to work.
The doc at our local clinic diagnosed it as a likely pinched nerve and several days rest and elevated foot would make things better.
Sounds reasonable, so we went with it.
Tuesday, we went to a previously scheduled appointment with our wonderful cancer doctor. Now, he wasn't aware of the developments during the leave, or since the last checkup, but he had gotten a heads-up through our liaison. Anyway, we did an examination...
I have had this recurring thought that I remember when Ellicia and I would sit and stare at the ultrasound displays, looking through the confusing swirls and shadows for the distinctive baby parts and looking for the movement and sharing the joy of the new life that we created and is growing inside her body. These days, we sit in the same type rooms, using the very same machines, staring at the same swirls... trying to make out the signs of the masses from the disease that is destroying her from the inside... hoping not to see anything, hoping with the same fervency that the doctor (who somehow knows what all those shapes and shadows are) will give us good news.
Anyway, we confirmed the tumor in her breast has returned, as we already knew - but now the Doc knows it, too. With this knowledge, we all quickly agreed that the smartest course of action would be to proceed to surgery the next week. It would be either a partial or full mastectomy, determined by some biopsy core samples he extracted that day, but irregardless, surgery would be needed. So, sometime Wednesday or Thursday the next week, we would have surgery.
It's the smartest choice, really. Go ahead and remove the source of the tumor. Obviously, it's come back, and it's smart to try to take it all off. Less risk of missing a cancer cell.
You see, the best analogy we've come up for cancer is that it's like Kudzu. If you don't kill each and every single cancer cell, then you haven't accomplished a thing.
Obviously, even though we'd all thought the cancer was gone through successful treatment, the re-emergence of the tumor means that it's not, nor was it ever, gone.
On Wednesday, Leesh was still feeling the effects of numbness, difficulty walking, nausea at all hours, and dizziness, so she went back to the clinic. Due to what we think of as the clinic's fear of making any further errors with her, the doctor this time referred her to a neurologist. Even though it's a busy time for the unit and I was really needed, we scheduled it for the next day... Thursday.
Thursday
After depositing the children at all the various points around post, we headed off to Nurenburg for our appointment. We figured we'd be there a couple of hours, some quick tests, and we'll be back home... even in time for me to go back to work. My uniform was in the back of the car, for this purpose.
We arrive and are quickly seen. We've brought all of our old x-rays, MRIs, and even her entire medical file. Believe it or not, we actually travel with these items now.
We went through just about every kind of test and machine that he had in his office. We tried coordination tests, tests like a Field Sobriety test, electrodes on her head, and even more ultrasounds. Ultrasounds of the head, neck, eyes, etc. And then, they did a new MRI.
The News
The doctor spoke very good English, and he told us that all of his tests had come out negative for any problems. And he believed that she really was having these problems. He showed us the MRI of her head. And then he showed us the tumors.
The breast cancer has metastisized to her brain. There are tumors in her brain. Brain cancer.
The neurologist contacted our cancer doctor, who was attending a cancer conference. He rescheduled the mastectomy to this Tuesday, with her checking-in to the hospital on Monday.
We drove home... numb, but with things we had to do.
Friday, we went back for more tests. We had x-rays, and another MRI, this time of the spine.
I suppose one sign of the seriousness was that when it was all over, we were sent back to the neurologist, where with a waiting room full of people, and us with no appointment, we were led directly into his office.
The news is this. There are eleven tumors in her brain. If you were to divide her brain into quadrants, then at least two of the tumors would be as large as the quadrant. There are also metastatic tumors in her lungs (again).
So, we have breast cancer, lung cancer, and brain cancer. And like the neurologist told us, while the situation is not hopeless, it is extremely serious. If we do nothing at all, she likely has no more than a few months.
What Now?
What now... That's the question we've been facing for the last several days. We've come to the acceptance that within a year, I'll likely be a single father. By acceptance, I don't mean to imply happiness or anything like that. More like many, many tears.
We have cried a lot. All of our hopes, dreams, and plans... well, those seem out the window now.
Everything we do now is seen through the prism of the cancer. Wondering what we can do to preserve her for the children. Crying over how young the children are and if they'll remember her.
It's been a long weekend. We're getting ready for her surgery.
My unit has been extremely supportive. My 1SG is amazing, and as my Commander spelled out to me, my place of duty is my family. The rest of the chain of command, likewise.
And now, we just try to go day by day.
It's not gotten any easier.
I've had so much I've wanted to write, and quite frankly, it's just been too difficult to write this post, thus making the others not worth writing.
Prologue
The last few days of our leave, Leesh started having some real difficulties. Dizziness, walking, nausea, balance, numbness in arms and legs... all of these were problems she was having. We figured that she'd perhaps overdone it on the vacation, or twisted something. Either way, to be sure, I made an appointment for the first thing Monday after we got back (It meant being on the phone at 0400 in the States to do it, but it seemed important. I take no chances.)
We made our sojourn back to Germany (an ordeal I do not want to endure again anytime soon, thankyouverymuch...). Settled in... and on Monday (28 August), off she went to her appointment and I back to work.
The doc at our local clinic diagnosed it as a likely pinched nerve and several days rest and elevated foot would make things better.
Sounds reasonable, so we went with it.
Tuesday, we went to a previously scheduled appointment with our wonderful cancer doctor. Now, he wasn't aware of the developments during the leave, or since the last checkup, but he had gotten a heads-up through our liaison. Anyway, we did an examination...
I have had this recurring thought that I remember when Ellicia and I would sit and stare at the ultrasound displays, looking through the confusing swirls and shadows for the distinctive baby parts and looking for the movement and sharing the joy of the new life that we created and is growing inside her body. These days, we sit in the same type rooms, using the very same machines, staring at the same swirls... trying to make out the signs of the masses from the disease that is destroying her from the inside... hoping not to see anything, hoping with the same fervency that the doctor (who somehow knows what all those shapes and shadows are) will give us good news.
Anyway, we confirmed the tumor in her breast has returned, as we already knew - but now the Doc knows it, too. With this knowledge, we all quickly agreed that the smartest course of action would be to proceed to surgery the next week. It would be either a partial or full mastectomy, determined by some biopsy core samples he extracted that day, but irregardless, surgery would be needed. So, sometime Wednesday or Thursday the next week, we would have surgery.
It's the smartest choice, really. Go ahead and remove the source of the tumor. Obviously, it's come back, and it's smart to try to take it all off. Less risk of missing a cancer cell.
You see, the best analogy we've come up for cancer is that it's like Kudzu. If you don't kill each and every single cancer cell, then you haven't accomplished a thing.
Obviously, even though we'd all thought the cancer was gone through successful treatment, the re-emergence of the tumor means that it's not, nor was it ever, gone.
On Wednesday, Leesh was still feeling the effects of numbness, difficulty walking, nausea at all hours, and dizziness, so she went back to the clinic. Due to what we think of as the clinic's fear of making any further errors with her, the doctor this time referred her to a neurologist. Even though it's a busy time for the unit and I was really needed, we scheduled it for the next day... Thursday.
Thursday
After depositing the children at all the various points around post, we headed off to Nurenburg for our appointment. We figured we'd be there a couple of hours, some quick tests, and we'll be back home... even in time for me to go back to work. My uniform was in the back of the car, for this purpose.
We arrive and are quickly seen. We've brought all of our old x-rays, MRIs, and even her entire medical file. Believe it or not, we actually travel with these items now.
We went through just about every kind of test and machine that he had in his office. We tried coordination tests, tests like a Field Sobriety test, electrodes on her head, and even more ultrasounds. Ultrasounds of the head, neck, eyes, etc. And then, they did a new MRI.
The News
The doctor spoke very good English, and he told us that all of his tests had come out negative for any problems. And he believed that she really was having these problems. He showed us the MRI of her head. And then he showed us the tumors.
The breast cancer has metastisized to her brain. There are tumors in her brain. Brain cancer.
The neurologist contacted our cancer doctor, who was attending a cancer conference. He rescheduled the mastectomy to this Tuesday, with her checking-in to the hospital on Monday.
We drove home... numb, but with things we had to do.
Friday, we went back for more tests. We had x-rays, and another MRI, this time of the spine.
I suppose one sign of the seriousness was that when it was all over, we were sent back to the neurologist, where with a waiting room full of people, and us with no appointment, we were led directly into his office.
The news is this. There are eleven tumors in her brain. If you were to divide her brain into quadrants, then at least two of the tumors would be as large as the quadrant. There are also metastatic tumors in her lungs (again).
So, we have breast cancer, lung cancer, and brain cancer. And like the neurologist told us, while the situation is not hopeless, it is extremely serious. If we do nothing at all, she likely has no more than a few months.
What Now?
What now... That's the question we've been facing for the last several days. We've come to the acceptance that within a year, I'll likely be a single father. By acceptance, I don't mean to imply happiness or anything like that. More like many, many tears.
We have cried a lot. All of our hopes, dreams, and plans... well, those seem out the window now.
Everything we do now is seen through the prism of the cancer. Wondering what we can do to preserve her for the children. Crying over how young the children are and if they'll remember her.
It's been a long weekend. We're getting ready for her surgery.
My unit has been extremely supportive. My 1SG is amazing, and as my Commander spelled out to me, my place of duty is my family. The rest of the chain of command, likewise.
And now, we just try to go day by day.
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