I left my beloved Canister Housing Unit this morning at 5:30 AM, and just returned at 8:30 PM, after a long day full of no single large thing, but lots of small things, to wit:

5:10 – After spending the past 30 minutes sort of rolling around in bed, pretending to myself that I am still sleeping a bit, I finally give up the charade and roll out for good. A quick run to the bathroom, then back to the trailer, where I fire up the computer and check e-mail, Red Sox scores (swept Tampa Bay, now in first place, woo hoo!), and get myself ready for a bike ride. At 5:30 this AM, 1LT Seay, the officer in charge of the Ambulance section, is meeting me at my can. He shows up about 5:35 and we hit the road, going on the 14-mile swing around the airport. Unfortunately, during the ride I achieve my very first flat tire since being deployed, as I hit a twisted nail (never saw the thing) which lodges itself deep into the inner tube. Fortunately this does not occur out in the middle of nowhere (where I had been just minutes earlier), but rather during the “final stretch” of the loop, in front of the laundry service. As I am walking my bike home, I pause for a moment to reflect on how this flat tire experience is so very metaphoric of my deployment thus far: not what I would have wished for, but no permanent damage was done, the timing was pretty good, and the overall experience probably taught me something I would not otherwise have learned.

7:10 – On my neighbor’s bike (he is on leave and gave me permission “any time”), I make my way to DFAC one for some raisin bran and an omelet. The latter is delicious, but unfortunately they ran out of V8 today, which is usually such a perfect accompaniment to breakfast. Oh well.

8:00 – Clinic starts, and we have a steady stream of patients all morning long:

• A couple of people who wish to quit smoking (patch, patch/zyban).
• An acute ureteral stone (a kidney stone which has moved into the tube between the kidney and the bladder, which hurts a LOT). Reminds me that, as an e-mail from the Army so kindly reminded me a few weeks ago, May was National Kidney Stone Awareness Month (NKSAM). As far as awareness months go, NKSAM is truly the month in which I have the most awareness of all. Even now, although it is June, I continue to be aware of kidney stones. (Fortunately they do not yet appear to be aware of me.) The Army also informed me that stones are the most common cause for evacuation out of theater in the summer months. This poor guy had an 8-mm stone on x-ray, and will have a hard time passing that boulder on his own. We sent him to the CSH (main hospital) up the road so that the suffering man could get some narcotics, and I’d bet that he’s on a plane to Germany right about now-ish.
• A breast mass, which requires a mammogram. We don’t have a mammo in theater, so that patient, also, will be heading to Germany. Pretty expensive mammogram.
• Two kids who got sick eating from the short-order line of DFAC #3 (the largest mess hall on post), the fifth such case we have had from the same food line at the same DFAC in the past three days. I call the preventive med people to see if they are interested in checking out the DFAC, to try to figure out why people are getting sick, but the LT with whom I speak does not seem interested at all. It makes me wonder what the preventive medicine folks would investigate, and what they are doing that makes them to busy to check out this fairly obvious issue. It is not uncommon, however, to run into difficulty trying to get things done around here. Life imitates M*A*S*H (except now it’s C*A*S*H).

11:30 – I head to the Gym with LT Seay. My other workout buddies are all either backfilling somewhere (1LT Coleman), or on leave (SPC Santiago, CPT Baker), so it’s just the two of us. About a month ago, I stopped going to the DFAC for lunch, and working out instead, then having a quick bowl of cereal when I get back. We work on chest and triceps for 45 minutes, then back to clinic, where I shower, get my bran on, and start afternoon clinic.

1 PM – The PM is filled with more achy patients than sick patients, and hence is pretty boring. I dole out lots of naproxen.

4 PM – The CSH Sgt Major tells us that the Command Sgt Major (the highest enlisted soldier in our brigade, who has traveled from Balad) will be coming to check out the clinic in 15 minutes. The medics all start cleaning madly, but the clinic was pretty clean before they started, so in 15 minutes it is spotless. The CSM does not show, so we go ahead with our original plan, which is for me to teach the medics an overview of Oncology. To my surprise, we get through the whole thing and the CSM has still not shown up.

5:30 PM: The non-commissioned officer in charge of the clinic, SFC Langer, dismisses the medics, and a few of us head to dinner where (of course), we see the CSM sitting down and chatting with his colleagues. The four of us studiously avoid being seen so that we don’t trigger a belated clinic visit, and we eat. Jambalaya tonight. Not terrible, but the shrimp has the texture of something heated, frozen, re-heated, re-frozen, microwaved, and kept warm under a lamp for a bit, then rehydrated into a sauce. Short version: it is a bit on the chewy side. Okay, more than a little chewy. I’m not certain that it wasn’t shrimp-flavored chewing gum. (I’ll test that theory next time by attempting to blow a shrimp bubble.)

7:00 – I get back to the clinic, and, knowing that I have an event at 7:30 (see below), I decide not to go home. Instead, I sit at my desk and do a half-hour of my Rosetta Stone French-language immersion program. Why French? Because my wife and kids all think they can speak it. I want to be in on the fun! I’m actually getting pretty decent. May try Arabic next.

7:30 – Family Home Evening, and the last one for sweet Sister Takis, her Iraqi friend (name purposely omitted), Brother Lee, and Brother Leme. Remember Brother Hales, the Orson Pratt-bearded guy who couldn’t wait until June? He’s already home. (O lucky man.) The Iraqi woman brought us homemade baklawa, which she tells us is not the same as baklava, and I agree. It is even better—more pistachioey, sweeter (imagine that), and smaller portions, which means I can try many different kinds. She is a sweet, humble woman who is not a member, but has been coming with her friend sister Takis for as long as I have been here. Now, she will be heading to Turkey for some time, and hopes someday to visit the states. We cannot proselytize on a military base, but I have a feeling that if she makes it to the states, she’ll end up talking to some young fellows in white shirts and ties before too long.

8:45 – Back at the canister, and eventually sitting up on my bed, writing this lengthy entry.

10:20 PM, Iraqi time – Good night.