One!
All you soldiers
Two!
You better do your best
Three!
Before you find yourself
Four!
In the leaning rest

One!
Hit it
Two!
Hit it
Three!
Hit it
Four!
Hit it

One, two, three, four
One, two, three, four
We like it here
We love it here
We've finally found a home
A what?
A home
A home
A home away from home
Hooah!

One of our favorite cadances in class. You know, when we can actually not march each other into the fence during drill and ceremony practice. Apparently some of us (myself included) can't call cadance and march a group at the same time. Much easier said than done.

And even though I'm having a really shitty day (which is entirely my own fault, stupid girl), I still think I picked the right plane. It's affected just about every aspect of my life, but that's okay.

I may live with a demon in my leg, but it hasn't killed me yet.

Pain - written on 24 August 2006

I don't think I ever updated on the outcome of my ongoing battle with the TMC.

I went in to get my medication and had a flare while standing in line. Not a good sign. So, I signed into sick call purgatory and sat for three hours waiting to be triaged. It was another hour before I saw a provider. (And that's not counting the time I waited to sign in outside or when the provider and I broke for lunch.) This entire time my pain level was anywhere between a 7 and a 9 out of 10, with 10 being the worst. Four hours of waiting while in pain.

When I finally did get into the provider, I broke it all down for her and gave her The Story Of My Shingles And Why It's So Bad Right Now. Which makes her the second or the third medical provider that knew less about this than I do. She scribbled a lot, checked in on the pharmacy and -- surprise, surprise -- the pharmacy doesn't have the medication that they were supposed to have ordered a few weeks prior. The order was just put in that day, after I came in with a complaint.

Fast forward two days. Pharmacy calls Top, who tells me that it's in, so I rush off to the pharmacy to get it. First there was a random Specialist manning the computer, who told me that it wasn't in the system. (Which is always the first answer, for one reason or another.) Then, they pull it out of the shipment, label it, bag it up, and give it to me. I ask if this was all the pharmacy had, only to be told that they will only give me one box at a time. Okay, that's fine, but one box is only a two week supply.

So yes, I got my medication, but it's technically not enough to last me through the rest of mobilization.

The girls are tired of hearing me complain about it, and several have asked why I didn't come to mobilization with this medication. Because it's $200 a box and I can't afford it. At home, aside from the income I get from the Army, I make minimum wage because I am still a student. And that's okay, for now. When I'm at home I don't need them as much as I need them here -- I'm not under the same kinds of stresses. I'm not carrying around a weapon, wearing body armor, nor am I separated from family and friends.

What's really difficult to explain to them is what living with pain day in and day out is like. A few get it, only because they do it too. Other people aren't sure what to say or do. All they hear is the times that I complain. They don't see the nights where I toss and turn, or the agony I feel even when we're relaxing. They see the patches on my leg. To them, that's all it is.

To me, this is life. And sometimes it's more pleasant than others. When I'm stressed out, I have a flare. When I'm hurt, I have a flare. When I'm PMSing, I have flares. When I eat certain foods, I have a flare. Pain management is just that -- managing the pain. This isn't going to go away anytime soon.

I just wish that I had more good days.

written on 12 August 2006

Medic: Is Techno eating yogurt?
Techno: Yes I am!
Medic: Ahahaha... Yeast infection!! Yeast infection!!
Techno: From what?
Medic: Yeast!
Techno: Yeah, but from what? All the vigorous sex I'm not having?StuffedShirt: And thank goodness for that!

Silly boys. I just like yogurt. And that was part of my dinner!

*****

Disclaimer: The following is my disgruntled rant specifically about my situation with my chain of command and lack of medical treatment. I cannot attest to how other soldiers are treated at this mobilization station, at other mobilization stations, in theatre or anywhere else. The medication to which I refer to is not very common as it treats very specific conditions (shingles, PHN), is sometimes hard to get, is very expensive ($7 a patch, box of thirty patches, you do the math), and is not carried by all pharmacies -- which I've known and tried to convey to my chain of command. This is me blowing off steam, this is only a rant, I repeat, only a rant.

In the course of a few minutes "I'm running low on patches, I won't have enough for the FOB, and I need to go off post to get them" turns into "Why did you wait until the last minute blablablah, why didn't you go to sick call this morning to get them blablablah, it's a big inconvience to take you off post blablablah"

From my platoon sergeant. Yeah. Way to take care of your troops, Sarge. Way to talk to people, Sarge. What a fuckhead. Dude, you won't even be the one to take me off post -- our UA takes care of that and he's cool with it. Now, if you would even listen to me when I was talking to you, you would understand why I didn't go to sick call and why I have to go off post to get them. If you knew your troops, you would know exactly why it is very important to have a supply of them.

Otherwise you will be taking me to the fucking TMC only for them to tell me that they don't have them for one reason or another and that I have to go off post, where I already have a standing perscription. Go right ahead, waste your time and mine!

Sometimes, I hate the Army sense of logic. This is one of those times.

And despite from all the venting I've done to anyone who will listen, I am still stressed out about it, and as we all know by now: stress = flare.

I'd love to see what would happen out in the FOB if I had a flare and had no patches. Oh yes, I'd love to see what they'd do then. Send me to the TMC to wait in agony for a doctor to tell me something I already knew? Riiiight. Preventive medicine, people!

[/rant]

*****

After the close call yesterday of EnglishProf going to TMC and me sitting out at the FOB wondering whether or not she'll go with us, she's going with us. Her ankle has been healing up well, Hipster has been helping her with her exercises, and she's in better spirits in general. Which is all very good. All signs are pointing to her going with us.

She told me that Hipster was actually doing badly in training because he was so preoccupied with her and her situation. He never says much, but I can tell that he really cares about her.

The boys make fun of him because he's always over here, but none of us care.

*****

I'm still thinking of what to write in reply to my cousin's letter. What am I learning here? How to walk around feeling like some bizarre lab experiment gone wrong -- part turtle, part hamster, part duck? How much I suck at throwing grenades? How to live with other people, with little to no privacy? How to make ranger pudding? How to smile even when my day sucks? How to deal with other people that have no people skills and no consideration for others?

I don't know. I'll find something, I'm sure.

*****

Quero me encontrar, mas não sei onde estou
Vem comigo procurar algum lugar mais calmo
Longe dessa confusão e dessa gente que não se respeita
Tenho quase certeza que eu não sou daqui

I want to find myself, but I don't know where I am
Come with me to find somewhere calmer
Far from this confusion and these people who don't respect each other
I am almost certain that I am not from here
("Meninos e Meninas" - Legião Urbana)

*****

Blondie has been long gone, Sweetheart and the artillary boys are gone, Fifi leaves soon, and I just want out of this place.

The sooner I get out of this place, the sooner I can go to Hong Kong and Japan, the sooner I can go home, and the sooner I can go to Brasil.

I want a hammock, impromptu Portuguese lessons, and a cool glass of guaraná. I want green tea ice cream, a sky full of buildings, girltalk about boys, love, life, everything. I want late nights at the truck stop, pierogi, to chase after little boys.

Validation, please come soon.

written on August 4

Road march #2 in the morning. I'm absolutely exhausted, so I stayed home from the library tonight to get ready for the march and go to bed early. I'm all moleskinned, taped, and loaded up for the march tomorrow which is definitely a good sign.

Since I'm on the Profile of Doom I can't march and carry a load of 48 pounds. So instead of wearing all of my gear tomorrow morning, I'm only wearing part of it. The heavist, most constricting part of it: my body armor. Chica said that even if I need to take it off in the middle of the march that I'll at least have started to acclimate myself to it. Honestly, I'm not sure if I can go for three miles with all of that extra weight. No other choice, though. Drive on, soldier, drive on.

Getting ready for a road march is always interesting. And it's so different for everyone. I'm considered a heat casualty and all of my gear is marked with red so that I stand out in a group of soldiers. That was taken care of days ago and I haven't messed with it since. But it does mean that my Camelback is filled with sports drink diluted in water. I also carry a few snacks to eat in a cargo pocket on my person. (We don't eat breakfast until after the march.) And then, my feet. Oh my goodness, my feet. Moleskin and toe seperators galore. I've been taping the moleskin down to make it stay in place. Sometimes I remember foot powder, sometimes I don't. Luckily the boots I'm wearing are already broken in and have civilian insoles in them, so they're a bit more comfortable. I haven't figured out what I'm going to do for my knee in the morning -- maybe some of the miracle green goo. The other leg -- you know, the one affected by shingles and PHN -- already has licodaine patches on it, taped down, naturally. In the morning, I'll put my hair up and then pull on my uniform, boots, and body armor and roll out the door.

And then walk for forever and a half. Nothing to it, really!

It should be fine. Just another BS thing to get through before leaving this place.

medical issues... and deployment

I know, I know, I usually write about people and relationships, but this is just as important as them.

In November 2005, I had an outbreak of shingles which did not get treated with antivirals -- mainly because my doctor thought I had two unrelated problems. For those of you that haven't had shingles, they suck. And if you don't get them treated with antivirals, they suck more. Because then the pox heal and you're left with scarring and pain.

Lots of pain.

And that's what I'm dealing with now. I have good days and I have bad days. My bad days are becoming fewer and fewer and I'd like for them to stay that way. But I'm also going to do as much as I can to help.

I can't take the normal drug cocktail and deploy. This is a choice that I've made, and I'll make it work. So, I'm searching for other things I can do. These include dietary and lifestyle changes as well as adding supplements.

So far, so good. Hopefully, it'll all work out.