Seeing soldiers return from deployment

Yesterday I read an article in Outside magazine, one I'd have originally skipped over, thinking another military story, I'm not interested. But these days it interests me. It's a chronicle of wounded veterans tackling a mountain in Nepal- a moving tale of adventure and spirit.

It's been a year since the big push to prep soldiers from the 172nd for deployment to Afghanistan. They've been trickling back for a while, but returning en masse recently, about 300 every other day. It changes the landscape- groups of greensuits are scattered alongside the road as I drive through post. For a long time, it was a ghost town.

Part of their reintegration is a trip to optometry for a vision check, so I see them in my exam chair. What a different feeling, the returning. An overall sense of ease and relief. I've asked what's the best thing about being back, and they answer: "A bed, time alone, food." The basics. But I know it's not that simple.

I'm a little sad that I'll be missing most of the soldiers- I have only nine days left in the clinic. But at least I've seen some- it makes the experience feel a little more full-circle. What I've mostly learned in these nearly two years is compassion. I didn't know much about the military except how to judge it. I now know the stories of the people behind the scenes: where they come from, their hopes and dreams, the difficulties of military life, the risks of service. I do believe that we'd benefit from some sort of mandatory national service.

Our clinic itself is in transition, with several staff members leaving this summer. Our chiropractor died of leukemia on Friday (he'd been sick for a while). The whole place feels a bit dark right now. So many emotions in the air. Life starts and stops when it wants to- what control do we really have over it? But I'm comforted that in difficult times, I've seen everyone pull together and do what should be done, for that is all you can do. One foot in front of the other... never knowing when it will be your last.

Lunchtime observations

[Sitting in the parking lot of the commissary.]

A round-bellied vet with shiny gold aviator bifocals walks to his black Mitsubishi station wagon next to me, toting a small white plastic bag. He looks sad for some reason. His wife is waiting in the passenger seat for him. I wonder if she is German. I wonder if they have lived here most of their lives.

A soldier in his early thirties with a black convertible waits as a bleached-blonde woman of the same age unloads his groceries into his car. He gets out his wallet to tip her, because the baggers work for tips only. It's one person helping another, even if he doesn't need the help.

For some reason, it seems like a lonely repetitive life, this life on the military post, even if you were with someone. The army life is predetermined and out of your control in so many ways. And much of it makes little sense, except that it is created to control a person, in all the ways possible.

I ran into my receptionist at the commissary. She was with two other people, one of them a nineteen year-old private, who's been in Germany for about 9-12 months. She works in our clinic. I noticed a bulge in her stomach and asked, "When did that happen?" She said, "October." As far as I know she is not with anyone. She was engaged but they broke it off a while back. Another story which I've seen over and over here. So young and unprepared and far away from home.

It's funny, when I run into friends on post I feel at home here. I feel loved. Yet I feel I'm one foot out the door. To continue this lifestyle is equivalent to standing still. Even though it's nice enough here, it would be choosing to be complacent. That's not me. I'm not meant to live the repetitive lifestyle.

So I'm looking forward to the next adventure leading me home, to be near my family and a relationship. It's not the straight and narrow path that I've taken, but I think my hopes and dreams are pretty universal-- to be loved and accepted and happy.

Confessions

I was out Saturday night at a club with a group from the clinic. I got to talking to one soldier, who said, "We need more people like you on post." Because I'm apparently more open-minded, and a bit crazy on the attire/glasses side, adding color and flavor to the otherwise drab uniforms and mental uniformity which populate the base. My reasons for being in Germany are unlike most everyone else here. Generally the first question is, "Did you come here with your husband?"

This particular soldier was about ten years younger and still in the throes of the angst of the twenties. (Not realising that I was much older and therefore much calmer and much more self-confident.) As we got deeper into conversation, he said (almost apologetically and like he was revealing something bad), "I'm a democrat." I said, "There's lots of them on post. Not as many as in other places." He didn't seem to know that. He'd joined the army because he wanted to make a difference. I think he feels a bit like he has to hide his feelings.

However, I know quite a lot of people on post who think like me. But then I think I'm obviously liberal. And I am also obviously pretty open-minded and non-judgmental, so people feel safe telling me things. It's very interesting that I can attract (not in the romantic sense) open-minded people so easily on an army base in Germany. Just another thing I wouldn't have thought.

9.11 miles, 9:11AM, September 11th

It's been nine years since the day the sky seemed to be falling. I remember, as I'd just returned from Germany late the night before, and woke up to a horrific spectacle on TV, as most Americans.

My friend Ryan called last night, to confirm travel plans to Hallstadt for next weekend, and mentioned there was a run in the morning. I'd seen it advertised as "The Freedom Run" which sort of bristles me, feeling that we're chasing the wrong terrorists, still, and using propaganda phrases to catch people's attention and fears.

But I was going to run anyway today, so I decided to go. And would aim for under 90 minutes, which I did. Considering I've only run 6 miles lately, it was ok. The crowd was rather small, but I saw a few people who I knew, including a couple of patients and even took care of a little work with one of them.

So The Race.

A filmy, foggy morning, breath-in-the-air type of start, which carried us through about mile eight, before the sun decided to take over. It was perfect.

I delight in being part of these things, even if I am an outsider. I'm Dr. Sara to some of them, and nobody to most. But I can quietly observe and wonder.

I thought it should be a Peace Run. Or at least a Think Run. Or maybe a What Are We Doing Run. In reality these runs are rather meaningless. Our military efforts will not bring back all the people who died, whose families were ripped apart. Instead we are ripping apart more families each year the war goes on.

I can't say I had any revelations from it. I'm still just wishing we could all get along, kind of like the mix of people joining together for the run this morning. If only it could be extrapolated.

Praying with the Army

This Monday, I attended a change of command ceremony for the optometry division who's about to deploy. It was small, and rather unexciting,in a gymnasium-like room. None of that was surprising.

But during the ceremony there was a prayer, to God, to protect them, and a quote from the bible.

I felt uncomfortable.

I wondered how many people felt the same way, or if they've just gotten used to the Christianity in the army. It's not the first time I've experienced it.

One of the most alarming was during our Thanksgiving dinner for the clinic last fall, when our commander had us all old hands in a lengthy prayer to "Heavenly father."

What happened to separation of church and state?

Comparing the numbers: optometrist

My grand total optometry exams over 2.5 weeks (during soldier readiness): 517
Average per day: 43
Average Army 8-hour day patient exams: 12
Average 10-hour Kaiser day patient exams: 20-22
Number of patients estimated over lifetime (since 2001, conservatively): 20,000+
Number days it takes to turn into a suicidal optometrist at 43 exams/day: 7
Number of years in school it took me to become an optometrist: 20
Number of years after graduation before I started thinking about going back to school: 3

Averaging five an hour or more

What, you ask?

Exams. I say. Eye exams.

Isn't that a normal rate? That's about one every 12 minutes. Enough time to speed through a history, refraction, quick health check, order glasses and chuck 'em out the door. Your best efforts from Dr. Sara and Uncle Sam.

The patients are troopers. I go to the waiting room looking girly in my skirt and grey boots (they're the only shoes I can walk normal in since injuring my left foot) and ask, "Who's here for optometry SRP?" Six people sitting. Five raise their hands. The other's wearing glasses and just trying to be funny. They're all waiting for me. That's how it's been for the last two days, and I expect it'll be the same until the final day of our SRP, May 14th. (SRP is "Soldier Readiness Program.")

I was hired to be part of the surge team, those who prepare soldiers to leave and welcome them back upon return. This is where they really get their money's worth. This is where I'm really happy to have nearly ten years experience in my field and a background in HMO optometry. I know how to crank it up when I need to, and still remain personable. (Thanks, Kaiser!)

My patients are good sports. One of the history questions I'm required to ask is, "Are you in any pain today?" (Thanks to the folks at HEDIS.) I must then qualify, quantify and investigate it if they report anything. So far I've heard about back pain, tooth pain, big toe pain, headaches, foot pain, sinus pain, BUT NO EYE PAIN.

Today, I was asking the dumb question again, and my patient said he didn't have any pain. I said, "Thank god, I never hear anything relevant anyway." He said, "Well, my big toe kinda hurts." I laughed and said, "Someone told me about their toe pain!" He said someone told him to tell me about his toe pain. So apparently they talk to each other. I'm going to take that as they're having an good enough time in their twelve minutes with me. Enough to make a slight impression.

Hopefully they all come back safely in a year and see me again.

A quiet house

Carrie and Mom were off this morning on the train to Praha. A few days in Praha (Prague), then to Krakow with a side trip to Auschwitz and finally to Berlin where I'll pick them up next weekend and we'll all go wandering about, returning to my little area of Germany on Sunday night. We'll have Monday to recover and then a jaunt to the airport for mom and Carrie to catch the 6:50AM flight out of Nuremberg on Tuesday April 20th. I'm sure time'll go quick as craziness.

We all nursed colds/flus/evil bugs for the last week and I sent them off this morning loaded down with vitamins, an emergency poncho and umbrella, 2 hidden money wallets (no more Spain experiences!) and some Czech cash. Hopefully they arrived intact. My mom sent an email from Nuremberg saying their train left 50 minutes late this morning so they missed the connection to Prague but I think it's only a couple hours later arrival. Hopefully they enjoyed the countryside.

We've had the weirdest weather- it was SNOWING this morning as we left for the train station. Happy 31st to Carrie, who knew that she would have snow again? It's almost like being in North Dakota.

I also had a mostly quiet day at work- all the military is off for a four day weekend. But, several smelly patients. Literally. I think they rolled out of bed after drinking and smoking for four days straight. They have four day weekends once a month. I think for most of them it must actually shorten their lives. One of my patients even arrived with a swollen eyelid, which he said was from falling off a bar. Good times. They continue.

Training plan

I've finally decided I would commit to a plan. Ok so it might have been helpful to do this earlier on, but... I am sort of a half-assed planner. I plan, but I like flying by the seat of my pants.

It goes something like this:
Mon: spinning class, stretching
Tues: med paced run, stretching
Wed: spinning class, stretching
Thur: long run (aka death night), stretching
Fri: weights, yoga, stretching
Sat: army training
Sun: weights, yoga, stretching
(Rest can be any of the days that I feel like I've done enough. But I like going to the gym, so...)

I've decided if I'm working for the army, I want to qualify with 100s on my fitness test for my sex and age group. That means 2 miles in 15:54, which I almost did today (I included three minutes of slower running as a warm-up, so didn't quite make the mark.) 76 sit-ups, which I SUCK AT, and 45 push-ups, which I will think will be doable fairly soon. The sit-ups and push-ups have to be done in two minutes. I have a lot of work to do.

They're having this weigh-in weight loss challenge through our clinic which starts next week and ends June 14th. Everyone seems to be signed up, so I figured I should join the club. Then all the girls will go to spinning with me! By the way, getting in shape post-30, sucks the big one!! :) But I keep trying.

I'm also sick of winter. I want to run outside. I woke up this morning and seriously wondered what that white stuff was still doing outside my window. Go away, snow!

Regeneration and movement

Two days of work in Katterbach and an overnight in Army lodging provided regeneration in many ways. Wednesday morning after navigating icy roads and Nuremberg traffic jams, I arrived to my little basement office with two male technicians, both medics, and a friendly Tricare neighbor, Arlet (a she), whose office I kept trying to enter rather than my own when I was trying to get back to my exam lane.

My staff invited me out to a "Hail and Farewell" for people coming and going from the Katterbach clinic. It was an Italian Buffet for 13 Euros, not exactly what I look for, but it was fun and good get out and meet new people, as well as observe a funny form of Army-ness--- I was even introduced as the helper interim optometrist. Katterbach's optometrist recently deployed and the new one won't be in place for about two months, so two of us are covering the location for now.

Snow reigned supreme the last two days, but it didn't really affect my drive, as it seemed to be in Katterbach town and then again when I got back to Weissenberg, but not so much in between. Spending time in my car allows relaxation and thought mingling. Two good things.

This weekend's a three day weekend, and I'm headed to Budapest, Hungary. My plan is to drive to Budapest, spend three nights in Bellevue B&B (run by two retired economists who worked four years in Canada aka perfect English), then Monday drive back through Bratislava, Slovakia. I'm following the advice of Rick Steves' Eastern Europe on this trip. I'm looking forward to a few quiet days in my room which has a balcony overlooking the Danube and Parliament. Public baths are also a big thing there, so I've packed my suit.

Love to all on Valentine's Day weekend.

Home again, home again

Being back in Vilseck clinic today was a welcome homecoming. My little office, my little desk, my loving staff, my nice post. Sleeping in my own bed, under my covers, in my little house, above Ernst and Helga.

It's good to be away. It's good to be home.

I spent a good deal of time on the phone and email organising the logistics of my next TDY operation- two days a week covering a clinic in Katterbach, which is about an hour and a half away. I'll do a late start the first day, overnight at the hotel on post, then return home the second day. So it will be two shorter work days and one overnight. I spoke with my Katterbach assistant on the phone today and have a good feeling about it. It's not really what I was hired for, but I don't mind the change of pace and change of place. It keeps things interesting. It keeps me social.

My patients today were mostly sweet, ranging from retirees, dependents, new-to-Germany soldiers, and walk-in acutes. All races, multiple nationalities, all ages. I love the diversity in the population and the conversations I have with my patients. Of course there's a lot of eye talk, but there's also a lot surrounding life and adaption, backgrounds, and experiences. I find interesting stories every day.

Some say the army is a giant welfare system, and I guess in a way, it is. But then I guess you could say all employers, all countries are giant welfare systems. We are really all here taking care of each other in a way. And I think that is good.

Second week into my first TDY stint.

What is TDY?

It is "Temporary Duty Assignment." Yes, "Y" stands for "A." Okay, I made that one up.

I'm doing some optometry coverage in a town called Schweinfurt. I think means "pig fart" auf Deutsch. That's just my guess, so don't quote me.

The town is industrial and a business center, well off the beaten tourist path. It's interesting to be in a town again. When I first drove up, it seemed so big that I felt a touch of anxiety. Have I become a country girl again? Perhaps.

The reason I'm here is that one of our regular optometrists in Bavaria (from Katterbach) was deployed, thus creating a hole in the optometry coverage, which needs to be filled by juggling people around a bit. The regular optometrist here (Major Eddis) is going to Katterbach a couple
days a week. So I'm here in a hotel helping the locals.

I think anyway.

This morning, I racked up 12 patients in about 4 hours and this afternoon, another 8. I have to thank Kaiser for the speed of my skills and the ability to create meaningful social interactions with just ten minutes of patient contact time. Not a small feat.

In the menagerie of patients this morning, I also managed to lock up my ID card, which is how I am allowed to log into the computer and chart. I had the pleasure of driving to the other post here over lunch to plant my right index fingerprint on a reader and reset my pin, so that I would
not have a zillion charts to fix tomorrow.

The day is nearing the end. The sky is darking... My shoulder is paining. It is time to go.

Until tomorrow,
your trusty army optometrist,
Sara

Day 1; First patient

This morning, I saw a 25 year old type two diabetic from Missouri. He' s been here three years, though has gone through deployments. Charting was successful after a few small hiccups. Once starting the exam, I realised I'm going to have to use the opposite side of my body from my prior optometry experiences. It will help improve my ambidextrous skills. In my free time at work, I've committed to studying Deutsch.

Today's word for you:
die Heftmachine: Stapler; zusammenheften: to staple. (zusammen means "together")

End of week FOUR

I guess it takes four weeks to in-process since Monday I'll start to see patients. Yesterday we had a class detailing a few more items on the intro-to-BMEDDAC orientation extravaganza. (BMEDDAC is just the Bavarian medical group.) Which means we learned something about the importance of personal communication skills, how to deal with the media and things which they look into when you're being assessed for security clearance, among other things.

There's a small group of various providers on the surge team- which means that we help the soldiers get ready for deployment or return from a tour of duty with health checks and what-not. I think it's probably a lot of form-filling but it'll break up the monotony of daily optometry.

Since it's Friday, I feel like I should be thinking of what sort of trip to take over the weekend. As if I could just sit on my butt and relax. I think that's against the laws of Sara. I'm not sure yet what the weekend entails. With a mid-week holiday, I feel like it's too early for Friday, but I'm not complaining.

Next week is a regular week and then the following is Thanksgiving, so only three days. My shippers called and said that my things were due to dock on the 23rd and will be delivered on the 30th, which iI the Monday post-turkey-day. I'm allowed 48 hours after the arrival of my goods to get the household set up.

That's the end of the logistical update. Cheers.

Computer evilness

Today I finally got computer access. It's been three weeks, two days since my arrival. However, sometime before I arrived the computer went missing (stolen) from my office, and the replacement computer in my office doesn't seem to want to grant me (or anyone) access, so I have access and no computer that works. We've opened our schedules for Monday morning. I hope I can chart. I have a class tomorrow and if my computer is not functioning on Friday, there will be hell coming from our department. Or I will just turn on my daze face and plow through the week.

It's frustrating, as all the stuff I need to do revolves around the computer. But. What can I do?

I'm excited to start seeing patients- real interactions with people should be pleasing I think. I have a feeling as a single female optometrist, it might be a little interesting also- I've been versed by another young woman what to expect and what to watch out for. The male-female ratio on the base is definitely a factor... It's entertaining at least. I think I can handle myself just fine.