While I was a resident, I had the privilege of facilitating group therapy for veterans on a PTSD unit. Those were challenging weeks: many of the veterans had recently returned from the Middle East and had quietly shared their experiences. On my last day there, my supervisor asked me to publicly and formally say good-bye to them.

I don’t remember exactly what I said, but it was something along the lines of, “Thank you for sharing yourself with me during my time here.” I do remember my last sentence: “I will never view Veteran’s Day the same way again the future.”

In searching through my archives, here are some instances when “military” popped up.

It’s not much, but through this I extend my gratitude to all those who continue to serve our country. Thank you.

January 3rd, 2003:

I was sent to the medical center at the Air Force Base (AFB) on Thursday. I was hoping to see one ill child, but I was forced to fill out paperwork, register my vehicle, take a quiz on universal precautions, and obtain my civilian name badge.

It was odd to see the physicians in military fatigues. No white coats, no stethoscopes, no name badges… just black boots, camouflage pants and shirts, and short hair. Lots of short hair.

Welcome to the world of the military. It should be interesting… I don’t know how many kids live on the base. The teaching there is supposed to be phenomenal, though, so hopefully that will make up for the long commute and military surroundings.

January 15th, 2003:

You know, I really want to write a detailed entry about my experiences at the pediatric clinic at the Air Force Base in detail, but time has prevented me from doing so. Overall, it has been an excellent experience thus far. Working and learning in a military institution is different… the issues are different, the viewpoints are different, and the system is different. The residents are nicer, the attendings are more inclined to teach, and the patients are interesting.

Some of the cases are tragic, though, simply because of the potentially unstable family and social situations inherent to military families. I can almost feel my belly ache when I see the kids who manifest their anxiety and stress through their physical body. I am so grateful that I was assigned to the Air Force Base. I am glad that I’ve been educated by people who care. People who want me to learn. People who are respectful and patient. People who are helpful and friendly. People who like people.

There is honor in being a member of the military. No doubt. But there is also an apparent quality of tragedy. And perhaps it is the two that produces heroism.

October 23rd, 2005:

I asked him about his military service. He was curled up on his right side, peering at me through the railings of the bed. His voice was still thick, but his enunciation had improved. He had served during World War II. Had travelled to several European countries.

“You see posters about the military,” he said, shifting his weight onto his back. “You think it will be fun. But when you get there, it is nothing like you thought.”

A wet cough. I could hear the watery breaths in his mouth.

“War is hell,” he continued. He told me about seeing dead bodies in the street, seeing injured soldiers, their limbs blasted off and bleeding. He closed his eyes: was he reliving the memories or trying to block them out? Or was he just tired?

He lay still. We looked at each other through the railing. What else could we say?

The system isn’t right. Young men and women are sent off to fight in a war that they had little if any control over. They put their lives at risk in a different land for our country while we, back at home, take our blessings for granted. Then the soldiers come home, many mentally or physically injured, and they get their care from the a hospital which has its perks, but generally, is a highly inefficient system that doesn’t boast the resources and technologies that most other hospitals have.

It’s like they give so much of themselves only to get so little in return for something so important: their health.

October 5th, 2005:

I’m also not sure what to make of the President’s plan to use military forces to “fight” the feared avian flu pandemic. When I read that bit of news last night, my first thought was, “You can’t use the military to solve all problems, Mr. President.”

Then I pondered how the military would practically manage avian flu containment. What military personnel would want to work in the affected areas? Simply being in that region would entail a high risk of contracting avian flu and increase the possibility of death. Unless military personnel are all vaccinated… and are there enough vaccines available? and what if the virus mutates into a different strain that is not included in the vaccine?

Does the US have enough military personnel left for this proposed project?

March 14th, 2006:

Dear Best Smelling Guy,

To be honest, I feel a little sad that you’re moving away. I understand that your obligation to the military requires you to relocate back to Hawai’i. I shall miss dancing with you.

I cannot remember when we first danced together (six months ago?); however, I am certain that I asked you to dance (because I’m overly eager like that) and you kindly obliged me. Upon pulling me into closed position, such that my nose was poised a few inches above your right shoulder, my olfactory neurons buzzed with surprised pleasure.

July 7th, 2006:

“Why don’t you volunteer at the hospital this summer?” she suggested. “That way, you’ll have a better idea if medicine is for you.”

It was the summer before my junior year of college and The Time to Make a Commitment was approaching. Was medicine for me? Did I really want to become a doctor? I rather liked the study of bacteria and genetics; perhaps graduate school would be a better fit. And what about my fantasy to become a writer?

“My grandparents are part of the American Legion,” my best friend (now a lawyer—she has consistently offered good counsel to me) said. “They tell me that the VA (Veterans’ Affairs) hospital is always looking for volunteers. It”ll be a good experience, you know.”

October 10th, 2006:

… the young veteran who returned from Iraq not even a year ago and continues to experience nightmares about his time in combat…

So everyone is alone, all together, hoping that The Suitable Other will spontaneously appear. They all look around, wishing on stars, blowing out candles, and praying to deities, hoping for a blessing of the heart.

It’s not easy for anyone. Everyone is hopeful and no one wants to settle. Everyone is looking and no one seems to look back. Everyone wants to give up and no one is letting them do that.

And, all the while, life goes on.