Just a quickie tonight, kids, as I have not had much time to write today, and it is already after 10 PM. Sundays tend to be pretty mellow for me, as I usually take my day off, and church is not very time-intensive (as I have mentioned previously); however a couple of other events kept me occupied.

One of our medics was admitted to the CSH (the hospital), presumably with a pyelonephritis (a kidney infection), but her symptoms and the lab results are not really adding up. More to follow, but on my insistence she is getting a CT scan tonight. I still think that the most likely diagnosis will indeed be pyelonephritis, but there are a couple of boogeymen out there which need to be ruled out before I can sleep comfortably.

In addition to that unwelcome excitement, we had a visit today from our Brigade Commander. I have to be reminded of constantly by my medics how the hierarchy of Army divisions goes: I am part of a “company” (581st Area Support Medical Company), which is part of a “battalion” (261st Task Force), which in turn is part of a “brigade” (62nd Medical Brigade). The 62nd is an organization with an impressive history, including four tours during WWII (Normandy among them), as well as tours in Saudi Arabia, Kuwait, Somalia, and now Iraq. A visit from the Commanding Officer is a big deal, and we got the clinic very clean and I was instructed to be there from 1400 to 1600. I was a bit late due to church, and was happy to see that COL had already arrived by the time I got there, because this meant that perhaps I would get a nap today, after all. (Ultimately, ’twas not to be due to the aforementioned issue.)

The Commanding Officer is named COL Sargent, another in a long line of Great Army Names. I have noted that only baseball player names surpass Army names in pure entertainment value. COL Sargent is a huge, impressive man, who spoke softly (at least on this occasion), and he was uniformly positive about our clinic, the medics, and our reputation on Al Asad. He did not stay long, and spent much more time with the medics than with the doctor, which is how it should be.

Finally, tonight I was called, sustained, and set apart as the First Assistant in the Al Asad Serviceman’s Group, Arabian Peninsula Stake. Our group leader is Manny Diaz, a Marine Corps Master Gunnery Sergeant (E-9), who is the rock for our little congregation. We also have an LDS Chaplain assigned to us, LCDR Robert Vance. Our presidency meeting is this Thursday; I look forward to being part of the leadership team here.

That’s it for the night, folks. More to follow this weekend, and I still owe you some pictures of my co-workers.

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.

I have been writing this blog for the past four months, and have been here on Al Asad for three of those months. I have come to learn that writing a blog is just not the same as writing in a journal, and comes fraught with a few unique challenges, among them:

I have to write in a way such that I don’t offend anyone, at least not un-intentionally. This results in my scaling back some thoughts and concerns which, though possibly genuine, are not suited to a public forum. I hope I have been wise in choosing when to jump into and when to avoid controversy.

A blog, as opposed to a journal, has to hold some interest to the readers, or the readers will flee. Not that it matters deeply if anyone is listening to my story, but if that were the case, why go to the bother of publishing online? The problem is: interesting things simply do not happen every day. Today, for example, I could write the following true statements: I bought a rug yesterday and set it up today. It is a 4 x 6 remnant that was at the PX. The only kind they had was a blue color with a pattern of a large turtle swimming surrounded by schools of fish. Maya would love it, but I’m not sure the purple remnant next to it is quite as keen. I try, but it is difficult to make that very interesting. Might be interesting to me ten years from now, as this passage will bring back memories which may be pleasant to me. But I can’t direct my entire blog at “Future Erik.” (Or can I?)

I have to write with some regularity. My dad occasionally lightly (very lightly) scolds me for not writing. And he is right to do so; after all, I have a whole lot of family and friends who are praying for me, sending me stuff, and just generally caring about me. The least I can do is send something off every few days, let the know I am alive and well. This requires me to quite often stifle the perfectionist urge that dwells within all writers. (For a hilarious example of this, read sometime E.L. Doctorow’s true story of his ultimately unsuccessful attempt to write a three-sentence excuse for his kid missing school.) I just type like the proverbial madman, and do a quick once-over, and thar she blows. Sometimes, though, I just have nothing: no stories, no motivation, no time to write, no heart to put you all through yet another sandstorm description.

I can’t seem too sad. If I express feelings of loneliness, melancholy, pooped-outedness, sick-of-this-place-edness, etc, I risk having people wondering whether I am having a Zoloft Moment, and either worrying about me, sending me supportive replies (my favorite was dad’s suggestion to “eat a Mento”), or both. The reality is, we all have our ups and downs, but I do have to be careful how I express them in this particular forum.

I can’t seem too happy. There is a fear in me that if I am relentlessly upbeat on my blog, people will assume that it doesn’t royally stink to be here. It does. But the laundry, free food, nice people make the pain a little less. I’ve told a close friend here that when I am home I won’t miss much about this place, but I will have very fond memories of three things: the breakfasts, the bike rides, and the barbecues.

There are other issues unique to a blog-journal (the possibility of mean-spirited replies by trolls, the need in my case to avoid inadvertently revealing something of Operational Security importance, the need to avoid any accidental cultural transgressions in talking about the foreign nationals here, and so on). Overall, though, I have enjoyed writing this, and I plan to continue it, and possibly to get one of those companies to print and bind it like a journal when I get home. FYI: I do a full backup of the site every week or so, and keep those copies in a few separate locations, should disaster strike.

My previously-promised description of the individuals with whom I work at the Troop Medical Clinic is, indeed, forthcoming; I will hereby beg a little more time, as there are a few soldiers I still need to photograph, so that you can put a face with the name. Expect that post before the end of the week (possibly in two parts).

So what is happening around here? Weather cooled off a bit today, which was greatly welcomed. Last night I walked out of my trailer to hit the showers at around 2030 hrs (8:30 PM), and was absolutely bowled over by the heat—still nearly 110 degrees even though it was pitch black outside. That is a really strange sensation; we expect it to be hot when the sun is beating down on us, but having that oppressive heat in the absence of the bright light seemed very foreign to me.

Found out about the Al Asad serviceman who died this weekend. He was a 20-year-young CPL from Waterbury, CT who died in a “non-hostile” incident (i.e., an accident, or from an illness). Very sad, and a relatively local boy for some of my family members. Gordon B. Hinckley called war “the most wasteful of human endeavors.” Amen to that.

You may notice the irritatingly-mobile text to your upper left, counting down the time I have remaining in Al Asad. So little time to cram in as much digitally-pilfered media as possible. Here is what I am doing to entertain myself these days:

Books
1. David McCullough – John Adams (Bought this a long time ago in audiobook, just now reading it; a great presentation of a story most of us don’t know well.)
2. Tony Parsons – Man & Boy (Smarmy British rock critic goes straight and grows up a lot. Lorri’s recommendation.)
3. Lorri Rupard - Jane Weisz, Undetermined Major (Cute, sweet, semi-autobiographical, insecure and did I mention sweet? A little self-loathing, some betrayal, a couple of Mormon swear words, and a touch of redemption brings this one full-circle. Plus, I’m married to the author.)
4. Shelby Foote – The Civil War: A Narrative (1960s work which presents the CW as a story rather than an abstract history; David McCullough learned a lot from this brilliant writer.)
5. George Higgins – The Progress Of The Seasons (Baseball in historical, poetic perspective. I’m a sucker…)

Music
1. Death Cab For Cutie – Narrow Stairs (Less mellow than their priors, but still has that sweet, chilled groove; Cath and Grapevine Fires are the cold-chill-inducers for me.)
2. Grateful Dead – So Many Roads (Anyone who says these were untalented stoned-out hippies needs to listen to this 5-disc box set, and you’ll here some jazz fusion, blues, and really raggedy CSN impressions.)
3. Neko Case – Furnace Room Lullaby (Still my favorite pure singer, going on two years in a row; these songs are simple, eerie, and brilliant. And country[!].)
4. Bon Iver – For Emma, Forever Ago (Orson-Pratt-bearded dude goes into the Wisconsin woods for a few weeks and emerges with a strange, holistic album which just sounds like it has a very very small carbon footprint. Freak folk, my favorite new genre.)
5. Jakob Dylan – Seeing Things (I just love this guy. Great songs, great voice. Am I the only one?)
6. The Weepies – Say I Am You (A folksie couple writes sweet, quirky songs, mostly about love and the like.)
7. Scarlett Johanson – Anywhere I Lay My Head (All Tom Waits covers. Anybody who likes Tom Waits this much can’t be talentless. Can she?)
8. Talking Heads – Remain In Light (An old classic, but if you haven’t heard it before, it will be new to you. The first song scares me; the next few make me smile and wiggle around.)
9. Kings Of Convenience – Quiet Is The New Loud (Quiet folksie music that I can play at work. Acoustic, beautifully instrumented, quirky tunes.)
10. Silversun Pickups – Carnavas (Been in constant rotation with me for the past 1.5 years, since I heard ESPN’s Bill Simmons talk up this very unknown group. The singer sounds like a girl, the bass player is a girl, the songs have approximately 4 chords apiece, but still are intricate and interesting. When they rock, they really rock.)

Also watching a lot of Deadwood and John Adams, plus the mix of MSNBC, Fox, and CNN which the Armed Forces Network provides on their news channel. That’ll get less interesting after tonight, as the Obaminator appears to have it in the bag. Not much in the way of sports, due to the time lag and the fact that no one at the AFN appears to like American League baseball. I’ve caught the end of many of the Celtics’ games when I get up in the AM, though. Saw Maria Sharapova beat the stuffing out of some poor German girl at the French open the other day, and I can’t say that I’ve ever seen anything like it. A six-foot-three Russian woman who screams every time she hits the ball, and destroys all in her path? How can you not be mesmerized by that?

Kids, that’s all I’ve got today. Same as it ever was…

It was three months ago today that I kissed my family goodbye and headed out to Fort Benning and from thence on to Al Asad Airbase in western Iraq for a six-month deployment as a doctor in the Troop Medical Clinic here. After consulting my personal mathematician, I have been informed that this means my deployment is halfway over.

Here is what we have learned during the past three months:

1. Barack Obama is still going to be the Democratic nominee for President of the United States, and Hillary is still not happy about that.
2. The 2008 American Idol is not a Mormon, after all.
3. It is hot in Iraq.
4. It is dusty in Iraq.
5. I am reasonably safe here in Al Asad.
6. The LDS Church is the same here as it is in the states. Except quieter (no babies), shorter, and with a more heavily-armed congregation. (Strike that last one if you live in Georgia.)
7. Your faithful blogger is capable of approximately five entries per week, with an average of about two funny ones, two boringly-descriptive ones, and one sad one.

A few things you may not know:

1. I have lost 8 pounds since arriving here (172 baseline, down to 164). Although this is a not a bad thing, and my tummy has flattened out (ha HA, Peyton Manning!), I don’t want to lose any more—would rather convert some flubber into muscle.
2. The montly death rate in Iraq has quite clearly dropped over the past year. From icasualities.org, here are the monthly death rates from January through September 2007: Jan 83, Feb 81, Mar 81, Apr 104, May 126, Jun 101, Jul 79, Aug 84, Sep 65. Now look at the numbers since October, and you’ll notice a very obvious trend: Oct 38, Nov 37, Dec 23, Jan 40, Feb 29, Mar 39, Apr 52. In May of 2008, there were a total of 21 deaths of Multi-National-Forces soldiers, the lowest total in any months since the war started in March 2003. You may not hear that from the mainstream media, and there are politicians on both sides of the aisle who will suggest that the Petreaus surge is not working, but the numbers are fairly clear, at least to me. You can read more here.
3. I have received and accepted a new calling in church, though I still need to be interviewed, sustained, and set apart. Nothing huge, of course (our congregation is probably less than thirty members in total), but it will be nice to be more involved. I’ll give more details as things become official.
4. Lorri completed work on her book and will be submitting to an already-interested publisher this week. Cross your fingers!
5. I am considering heading to Qatar after all, possibly in July, my family permitting. Why the change of heart? Al Asad now has a direct flight from here to there, which takes a good deal of the hazard out of the trip. Still mulling it over, but if Lorri says okay, I may just do it.

Finally, a new running feature for the blog; I figured I would start this when I got closer to the halfway point. My “Erik Goes Home” clock on the side of my laptop currently looks like this:

Now, that takes into account the end-of-deployment date on my orders (31 August 2008), but the reality is that most of us end up being here a bit after that date, and there are about three days of travel time to get home (stops in Kuwait and Leipzig, Germany). But I’ll stick with 31 August until I hear otherwise. There is also a chance that the Army will extend my deployment, but we aren’t even gonna let that thought enter our minds at this point in time.