As The Sparks Fly Upward

Got a quick one for you tonight, as I am getting in late after the 8 PM session of church today. Early this week, I’ll have some neat pix from the weekend, in which I got to administer the re-enlistment oath to one of our SGTs, and to pin the new rank on one of our Specialists as he was promoted to SGT.

But for now, this one will have to suffice. It took me nearly six months, but I have at long last found that we have our very own Home Depot here on Al Asad. I came across this little store today as I was driving around with some fellow soldiers:

Al Asad Home Depot

Actually, I am pretty sure that this particular franchise has nothing to do with the real Home Depot company, as the “Al Asad Retail and Household Materials Store” had a kind, knowledgeable, and helpful salesperson, something virtually unheard of back in the states.

So, one question remains: Dad, would you mind coming over and helping me put in a deck off of the back of my can? I’m thinking six by eight, mahogany…

Folks, it has been a long one today. For the past few days, Al Asad has been one big sandstorm, which has grounded many of our planes and created some other problems. Weather was especially bad today, with the rsult being that our clinic power was out most of the day. Because of this, I ended up seeing my last fourteen patients in the 100-plus-degree heat and considerable darkness inside of our clinic. Thankfully the lights are back on now, and the little A/C unit in my can is currently cranking non-stop. It is 9:30 PM, and I just arrived back home from the clinic an hour ago. Therefore, gonna keep it short/sweet tonight, but I do have a few thoughts to share.

Packing My Mental Baggage

For two years back in the late 1980s, I was an LDS missionary—you know, the young, clean-cut guys in suit-and-tie who ride around the city on bikes. We missionaries had a term for the peculiar behavior of those among us who were nearing completion of their 24 months, and occasionally showed the signs of being mentally “home” even before they physically left the mission field. The term was “trunky,” as in “Elder Johnson is a bit trunky, and therefore was not really excited about doing that service project.” I think that the term originally came from the mental image of a missionary sitting on his already-packed trunk, waiting for the ride to the airport. We generally forgave a bit of trunkiness—after all, it’s hard not to daydream a bit about sleeping in your own bed again after being away for a couple of years. Most missionaries fought off the trunkiness pretty well, and kept their eyes focused on the work at hand as much as possible.

I hereby admit to you that I am currently a bit “trunky” about getting back to the green green grass of home (not to mention my wife and kids, the pool, the uninterrupted power grid, etc), though I think I am mostly containing my restlessness. On days in which the lights go out, the sand slaps painfully against my skin every time I walk outside, and the heat is oppressive and uncomfortable, it is easy to dream about better days to come. The other provider in my clinic right now is CPT Daphne Sims, a pediatrician out of Ft Bragg. (And you thought I was practicing outside of my specialty!) CPT Sims and I came to Iraq at the same time, and it looks like we will leave at the same time—may even be on the same “freedom flight” home. So, we are both perhaps a bit on the trunky side. We’ve been keeping each other honest, though, and putting in a solid day’s work every day. But we occasionally talk across our shared desk of the places we’ll go, and the things we’ll be doing this time next month. Our “Calgon moment” is almost invariably interrupted by a medic telling us the sad, sad story of the patient in room three, who has “this thing” on his foot (or some other Al Asad-specific malady). Oh well, it was nice while it lasted.

Becky Anundsen, the Anti-Adkins

A few weeks ago, a study came out in the New England Journal of Medicine which demonstrated fairly clearly that the food pyramid which we have been taught for decades (the one with wheat, grains, breads and cereals as the “base” of the pyramid) is all wrong. In fact, an “Adkins”-style diet consisting of very few carbs, increased protein, and moderate fat intake appears to have superior health benefits on nearly all parameters when compared with even calorie-restricted, carbohydrate-neutral diets. When I read the study, I talked to my TMC staff about it, and the end result was that about half of us have been on a low-carb diet since the beginning of July.

That is, until last Saturday.

That was the day that two boxes sent by one Becky Anundsen (”little sis” to me, “Beckles” to everyone else) arrived via the Army Post Office. As mentioned previously in these pages, Becky’s package consisted of five boxes of cookies (sugar, peanut butter, white chocolate macadamia, and pecan choco chip), and the Al Asad TMC staff have been living off of the things ever since. All of the cookies are good, but those sugar cookies are un-be-stinkin’-lievable. They have that slightly doughy taste that all good sugar cookies must have, and they just spontaneously crumble on the tongue, as if on cue. I have not been able to stay away from that particular ziploc container. Unfortunately, I do not believe that Beckles cookies qualify as “low carb.” In fact, I have it on fairly good authority (two witnesses: my tongue and my stomach) that they are not even “medium carb.” But I simply cannot stay away, and neither can my medics.

So thanks for the cookies, Becky. Trust me, they are well worth the extra few (say 20) hours I’ll have to do on the treadmill this week to negate their nefarious effects. Well worth it, indeed.

I have spoken often of the people with whom I work on a daily basis. Here, then, a few more introductions for you, via pix of the weekend’s barbecue.

Pictured here in the obligatory card game are, from left, Staff Sargeant Carla Cano-Perez (C-P to all of us), 5′4 and with an “Hecho en Mexico” tattoo on the back of her neck, is in charge of the medics; SPC Cordero, whom you already know; SFC Catherine Langer, the Non-Commissioned Officer-In-Charge of our clinic. SFC Langer is the powerful, maternal figure who keeps our clinic together. She is a Wii-fitness fanatic, and has truly excellent taste in music, books, and movies (i.e., she agrees with me on most things).

SGT Stephen Evans, chillin'.

SGT Stephen Evans of Asheville, NC, who just got back from leave in Vegas. SGT Evans is another one of my favorite kids. A solid medic, and one of the best schmoozers I have ever known, which has served him (and us) well in Al Asad, where he has been able to finagle and trade for the things we so desperately need, from air conditioner parts to entire vehicles.

SGT Castulo Vera

And sauntering up the row of cans is one SGT Castulo Vera, known is our clinic as the World’s Tallest Mexican. Fortunately, SGT Vera is not standing sideways, or you would not be able to see him. Vera is a fine medic, and one of the few natural athletes in our company. A soft-spoken guy who doesn’t put much money in the “swear jar.”

SGT Ernest Hert and CPT Joshua Baker

SGT Ernest Hert of San Diego, CA is on the left. He is NOT soft-spoken like Vera, but is a good guy who would take a bullet for any one of his comrades, and one heck of a barbecue chef—the man of a million seasoning salts. SGT Hert will be heading to Ft Carson in a few months, but he doesn’t want to stay there; Hert loves to be where the action is, and will probably be in Afghan sometime next year, heading up a team of medics somewhere.

To SGT Hert’s right is my closest friend here, CPT Joshua Baker, who is our clinic’s optometrist (and the only one on Al Asad or any of the surrounding posts). CPT Baker is originally from upstate NY and currently from Alaska. He has been the personal fitness trainer for our entire company. He’ll be heading to Germany when he gets out of Iraq. I have publicly predicted that Baker will be the top Optometrist in the Army within 10 years. Not a tough call, really, as he is the epitome of “squared-away”: smart, in good shape, and with unimpeachable integrity. (Also, note the pre-formed beef patties on the grill.)

SGT Andres Villareal

This is another one of my favorite kids, SPC (p) Andres Villareal, who will be a SGT in one short week, and has given me the honor of “pinning” him (i.e., putting the rank on his uniform for the first time in a ceremony). SPC Villa is another one of those quiet, reliable, solid medics, who does whatever he is asked to, quickly and efficiently, with no complaining or excuses. One of my work-out buddies along with Baker, though he doesn’t look too tough here with his pink-hued leukemia water. Villa plans to get his nursing degree and become an officer.

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Finally, this little guy did not attend our barbecue (at least, not that I know of), but Maya made me promise that I would post a picture of the lizard we caught in clinic a month back (a cute little dude, and well-behaved), so here it is:

Lizard in the Al Asad TMC

Barbie

Last night we had a farewell barbecue for SPC Cordero who has, by the time you read this, already arrived at another base. Though it was sad to lose a member of our little group, the party was fun anyway. The PX here sells a very limited selection of frozen meats, including some pre-formed burgers with Vidalia onions mixed in. Combine these with the amazing assortment of spices (up to and including Montreal Steak mix) which the medics have accumulated, and the occasional (sort of) fresh buns available at the PX, and you have a pretty good barbie.

1000 Words

Our resident Marine Corps pilot, CPT Deb Turley, brought her camera last Sunday, and sent me this picture, which will give you an idea of what our humble church meetings look like. You’ll notice that all services (Army, Navy, Air Force, Marines) are represented here (note the different uniforms). Front left is Sister Turley, middle is Brother Lloyd, the second assistant to Brother Manny Diaz (second from left in the back row), who is our group leader. The woman who appears to be glowing is Sister Lott, who is wearing a night-reflective badge. This sacrament meeting starts at 8 PM, and most of the congregants walk or ride bikes to church.

Rupard Mailbag

Have I mentioned how very much American soldiers love to see those red, white (mostly), and blue priority mail boxes? They are like manna from heaven, sometimes literally.

On Monday of this week, my Norelco razor bought the farm, which is very bad news for me, as I use it to groom not only my face, but also my expansive & bald noggin. Having to physically shave my head with razor & cream is a huge pain, and usually results in a few nicks and/or not-quite-baby-smooth areas. So, I needed a new Norelco, stat.

Lorri Rupard to the rescue! I called Lorri on Monday, she went to Target (her favorite store), scored me a nice inexpensive rotary, and put it in the mail with a bunch of other goodies (Batman Pez dispensers, peanut butter M&Ms, rice krispy treats). Unbelievably, I received the package on Saturday, just 5 days later, which means that I had a nice smooth head for church today. Thanks, Lorri!

I also received two priority mail boxes from the Anundsens of Reading, PA. Beckles & Company filled those boxes with ziploc bins full of cookies, including sugar cookies, chocolate chip with nuts (woo-hoo!), peanut butter, and white chocolate macadamia. These were delivered just before the aforementioned barbecue, and were heartily enjoyed by my whole company of soldiers during said party. I have to confess, though, that one box of the choco chips remained in my trailer. I will be working through that one over the next 27 days. Thanks, Beckles!

I have to admit it: though I like all of the soldiers who work in my clinic, Specialist Maria Cordero is probably my favorite. The reasons for this are multiple. First, she is originally from Stamford, Connecticut, just down the Merritt Parkway from my home town of Cheshire. Amazingly, of the 15 people in my clinic, three of us are originally from CT.

Additionally, SPC Cordero is only a few years older than Madeline (my oldest daughter), and she looks even younger than Maddy, so she has been sort of a surrogate kid for me.

But the best thing about Cordero is her very laid-back, self-deprecating sense of humor, which has served our whole clinic well when we needed to lighten up a bit. She has also been a consistently interesting medical case for me, as she has had four or five mysterious illnesses while I have been here, one of which landed her in the hospital for a couple of days before completely disappearing as fast as it came. This propensity to catch any virus, bacteria, or fungus brought in by our patients resulted in the medics referring to Cordero as the “outbreak monkey,” and that was eventually combined with her last name resulting in her current nickname, as per the title of this post.

Since I arrived here, SPC Cordero has been our front desk staff. Though she is a trained laboratory technician, we are currently without a lab, so SPC Cordero’s job description had to be modified a bit. Unfortunately, she will be leaving us in the not-too-distant future for another undisclosed location, which is a real bummer, as she has been an important part of our team, and an even more important part of our deployed family. Earlier today, I talked with SPC Cordero, and here are a few of the highlights:

You were raised in a rich community in Stamford, CT. Not too many kids from Stamford end up in the Army. When did you join the Army, and why?

I joined in November 2003. I honestly was too lazy to apply to college. I was offered scholarships, I had good grades, but I was so stressed-out with the idea of having to apply to colleges, that the Army just seemed like an easier thing to do. One day I saw the recruiter at lunch, and he told me to just take the ASVAB test, see what happens. I took it, and in my mind I decided that whoever calls me first, I’m gonna join. The Marines called me first, and I thought to myself “Hell, no! Whoever calls me second is who I’m gonna join.” And it was the Army.

Did you get to pick your MOS [military occupational specialty]?

Yeah, I wanted to be something in the medical field. Medic and x-ray didn’t sound very exciting, but when I heard about lab and all of the gross stuff that has to do with it, I though that was pretty cool. So I picked it.

Have any of your family members been in the Army?

My dad was in from ‘84 to ‘91. He got out right after desert shield, desert storm. He deployed a good three or four times. I remember my mom crying when he left.

You are part of a small group of soldiers in this war who ended up with a 15-month deployment. Did you know before you came out here that you’d be here for that long? What did you think about it?

I knew I’d be in Iraq for fifteen months. I thought “this sucks,” but I knew what I was getting myself into, and I was prepared for it.

Do you like being deployed?

Overall I like it. The only thing that sucks is being away from the family, missing out on everything that is going on with my daughter, Lola, who is two years old. My husband is in Afghanistan right now, and he’s a fifteen-monther too, and he left seven months after I did, so I won’t see him until seven months after I get back.

What experiences out here will you remember?

I haven’t been shot at or had to fear for my life at all, which is good. The only thing that really stands out is the people I have worked with. Even though I’ve reached the point in my deployment where I can’t stand most of them, I know I’ll never forget them. It’s one of those things that you’re gonna remember for the rest of your life.

So, you were trained in the lab, but the Army has made you our front desk staff for now. What do you think about your current job?

I love it. I wish I had known about this job before I picked lab. Being able to work with the medics, and bother the docs, and hear all of the funny things that the patients come in with…

Plus, you have your own office, which I don’t even have.

[Laughs] I know! And my own computer, my own desk. It’s nice.

What do you do to pass the boring time here?

I watch a lot of TV. If I’m not lazy, I go to the gym. I hate running so I do put it off as much as I can. I read a lot. I’ve been studying, taking online classes from George Washington University, trying to get my Associates in laboratory medicine. I’m six credits shy of that degree.

Are you considering a four year degree?

I’m definitely going to do a four year degree. My husband and I have been talking about me getting out, and now that the GI bill is such an awesome thing, the way they changed it around, we are definitely going to use it. I’m going to go to school first, get my four years, and then we’ll switch. Once I have a good steady job, then he’ll go to school for four years.

Will either of you stay in for twenty?

I’m still considering it, but my husband is pushing me to get out, and with the baby I’m really leaning towards that, too. I would love to put in the twenty years, maybe take a break, go to school, come back as an officer. That’s still an option.

Have you re-enlisted?

I re-enlisted last summer, and got a bonus of 8500 for an extra two years. It’s all in savings.

Who are you going to remember out here?

Bits and pieces of everybody. The two people that I’ve incredibly bonded with are Villa [SPC (p) Andres Villareal] and Vera [SPC (p) Castulo Vera]. Villa because he’s got kids and he understands what I’m going through, and Vera’s just a crazy awkward Mexican, and he’s like a brother to me.

Okay, perhaps a bit too much info on my last entry (at least that is the consensus of all the Rupards who commented). So, we’ll keep this one perhaps a bit less revealing.

Days continue to fly by, as evidenced by my little countdown timer at the upper left of your screen, which will likely have gone below the one-month mark by the time you read this. Still, thirty-one days to go (Darn you July, for having that extra day!). I have been able to learn a bit about what my re-deployment (Army lingo for “return home”) will be like from various sources including my friend John Zaugg, who returned a few days before I deployed. John tells me that after I catch that fabled “Freedom Flight,” I will eventually arrive at Fort Benning from whence I departed six months ago. There, I will get a chance to see Lorri, though she won’t be able to see me get off of the plane, like in the movies. They have a waiting area in the military airport for the family members, and we will walk off the plane and into that area. Next, we’ll have some briefings (death by PowerPoint), and will be released for the night, with orders to show up at oh-dark-thirty the following day. At that point, we will go through many of the same equipment lines which I went through during CRC, but with an obvious difference: this time, I’ll be giving stuff back.

Some of the items which the Army wants back are sort of obvious, e.g. my Beretta M9, my body armor, specialized and expensive equipment like my gas masks. Some of the things they want back are simply weird. What are they gonna do with my raggedy, dusty, sweaty old uniforms? I was issued four of these, and told that I will be required to give three of them back. Some of the people here have suggested that they actually do not ask for them back, especially if they are well-used, so we’ll see what happens. There are a few other useful things I get to keep (boots, “under armour” t-shirts, some of my cold weather gear), and a few which I truly hope I can keep (my Camelbak).