I usually end up writing my (sort-of) daily blog post right before I hit the sack, which is generally the most convenient time, as my days are spent in the clinic and the gym, and generally away from an internet-ready computer. Today, though, the clinic is pretty quiet (eight patients in the first three hours), so I am taking advantage of this time to jot down a few things that have passed through my brain this week.

One is the incredible resilience and innovation of the soldiers here in theater. The building which currently houses our clinic used to be a Turkish bath, and hence is not quite ideal for patient care. By hook or by crook, however, it has been modified to fit our purposes. Long before I arrived here, the medics had built desks out of irregular bits of plywood, put in makeshift doors where none previously existed, even built a fairly complex workout area in the triage area outside. Currently, they are making a basketball half-court in the driveway (though the first attempts at a makeshift rim have failed miserably). Last week, our front door got blown right off its hinges during one of the more vicious dust-storms. We were able to get it back on, but the spring-loaded mechanism which made it close automatically had been destroyed. SGT Evans immediately put pen to paper and came up with an alternative. The result is a simple pulley strung out and over the door, with a bucket full of nails hanging at the bottom, effectively accomplishing exactly what the spring did. Of course, when we get a replacement door mechanism, we’ll retire the pulley, but it is nice to have it now—keeps some of the dust out of the clinic, and stops the door from swinging wildly open every time someone walks into the clinic. The soldiers here have a “get it done” philosophy likely borne of necessity early in their tour (or on prior deployments) and perpetuated by a Department of Defense bureaucracy which make replacements for necessary item around here very slow in coming (if at all). Amazing what a bit of ingenuity can accomplish.

Second topic: [First a disclaimer: we at the TMC have approximately 1,000,000 drink mixes thanks in large part to many of the swell folks who read this blog. So the following is NOT an elaborate "hint" nor is it a "wish list." Just a silly commentary on something that we soldier-types spend a truly unfortunate amount of time pondering.] I believe that the soldiers in Iraq (and Probably Afghanistan as well) are probably the world’s experts on calorie-free drink mixes. We drink water constantly, and after the first liter or so every day, all of it starts to taste bad (especially the leukemia water, which tastes bad with the first sip and goes downhill from there). So each of us is constantly putting these powdered packets into our drinks. The standard flavors are lemon-lime, fruit punch, and lemonade (a.k.a. “green,” “red,” and “yellow,” respectively). But those of us who drink gallons of the stuff daily are always on the lookout for innovation. Barry and Ellen sent me about a thousand of these things, in a bunch of unusual and different flavors (white grape, raspberry ice, mixed berry, kiwi-strawberry, pure lemon, and a bunch of iced-tea combos). Others have come from other sources, or in general care packages from relief organizations. Occasionally, the DFAC will stock some of these, but they go quickly. A couple of the local favorites include the following:

1. Crystal Light “LiveActive” Natural Mixed Berry. This one has three grams of fiber in it, which is really helpful out here in the land of greasy food and blazing sun. Also, I think the fiber actually gives the drink some “body” (can’t believe I am using a term I think I learned from a 1970s Prell ad) which is often lacking from sugar-free drinks. Ellen sent me this one, and it is my all-time favorite.
2. Propel Kiwi-Strawberry “fit powder.” This is made by the Gatorade people, and I will confess here and now to being a consumer junkie for any/all of their products. The flavor is sweet, but not too sweet, and has a bit of a cotton-candy tinge to it, which helps to satisfy my sweet tooth a bit.
3. Country Time Lemonade. Can’t argue with a classic. This is the sugar-free variety.
4. Crystal Light White Grape. I’m not a huge fan of white grape juice, but perhaps absence has made the heart grow fonder. This is very light, and easy going down. It is also somewhat of a rarity, as no one in the clinic had ever seen it before it came in one of Ellen’s packages. As such, I have worked my way slowly through the packet, and am saving the last couple for the winners of our next medical jeopardy.

So there you have it. If you find yourself in the need of sugar-free drink mixes, print that out and take it along as a handy guide. [Again, though, we have lots of these in the clinic, so please don't think of this as a hint. But thanks anyway...]

Last but not least:

Yesterday afternoon, I got an unexpected package from Tony Fadell, a military Oncologist in Germany who was in my fellowship class with me. Doctors who go through a fellowship together (the training which is necessary to become a sub-specialist in medicine) spend a lot of time together during the grueling two or (as in our case) three years of the intense training. Tony, along with Tanya Wroblewski whom I have mentioned previously, was in my fellowship class, and we all became close friends—a friendship which continues to endure, though we each live in different corners of the globe. In the package was a picture of Tony’s beautiful kids, Sierra and Owen, and some books, candies, and CDs, including a 7-disc Pearl Jam set which will take me weeks to thoroughly digest. Also, a Christmas card, with an apology for its lateness (still earlier than the Christmas card which I sent Tony…tomorrow (yeah, that’s the ticket!). He signed it “brother Tony” and indeed that is what Tony is like—a brother.

Tony’s kindness in thinking of me, sending me some entertainment, and just plain going through the major hassle of putting all that stuff in a box, filling out the customs form, and getting the sucker in the mail, this is all typical of him, a humble, selfless guy. In fact, it is typical of so many of my friends and family out there. I feel like when I get home, I’ll need to visit each and every one of you wearing a t-shirt which proclaims “I am not worthy!”

When I worked at Walter Reed, we occasionally admitted men from the “Soldiers’ Home,” a complex in downtown DC which housed many veterans, usually 70-plus years-old. Although the Soldiers Home had its own hospital, they would be transferred to our facility when they got really sick. These men referred to Walter Reed as “Walter Wonderful” and did not have even the tinest whiff of facetiousness when they said it. They loved everything about the place, from the medical care they got, to the clean and windowed rooms, to the food they were served.

I feel much the same way with regards to each of you: one of the beautiful things that this experience has afforded me is the opportunity to see just how many good people there are in this world—people who at no benefit to themselves and often at considerable expense (both of money and time) find ways to do what they can for the soldiers over here. It seems that every day we receive a package addressed to “any soldier,” and full of goodies, shaving equipment, soap, playing cards, DVDs, books, magazines, chips, crackers, etc. Although the “stuff” is good to get, it is the simple fact that someone cared enough to send it that really affects me and my fellow soldiers, and provides an uplift on those days in which groundhog fever would otherwise be setting in.

Thanks.

[Editor's Note: In re-reading this tonight, I am afraid that it may be perceived as a thinly-veiled attempt to get drink mixes and/or other stuff sent out to the clinic. It is not at all intended that way; my small cadre of readers have been incredibly kind to me, and our clinic still has lots of stuff from previous boxes I have received. We are (truly) in need of nothing, and I personally have more than enough goodies, drink mixes, etc to make it through my last two months, and then some.]