This morning I am sitting in a hotel room in Washington D.C. I am on a "TDY" (training-something-something) for ten days to learn about deployment psychology. Basically, that includes all aspects of deployment from the soldier's experience to our own as psychologists with a specific emphasis on training us to provide evidence-based treatments for PTSD. Mostly the training has been rather boring (powerpoints), but we did get to tour Walter Reed Medical Center. I'll get to that, but first I want to tell you all about the experience of traveling in uniform.
Capt. Smith, Capt. Cassidy, and I decided to wear our uniforms traveling to D.C. because we were trying to get through the trip without having to check a bag. Boots take up a lot of room in a suitcase. In San Antonio where military personnel are a dime a dozen, we are not really even noticed so I forget how much one stands out in uniform. I mean, at home I can wear my uniform to the grocery store and can guarantee I will run into at least a couple of other people in uniform. However, in Dallas they are not as used to seeing people in uniform. Maybe it's because people in the Dallas airport are from so many different places, but we were thanked several times for our 'service'. We agreed that this puts us in a bit of a moral dilemma. How do we respond? What do we say? We're not so sure we deserve 'thanks' at this early point in our military careers and there is an assumption that people seem to make because we're in uniform (the assumption being that we have actually done something!). Do we say "you're welcome"? Or respond with the natural inclination to say "thank you" back? After much discussion we decided the best response would be, "my pleasure." This response both acknowledges the person's gratitude and does not take credit for a service we don't really feel as though we have provided (at least that's what we came up with!). So we tried out our new response as we strolled through the airport. One very energetic gentleman grabbed my hand, shook it excitedly, and expressed his just-short-of-tearful appreciation for what we were doing. I refrained from explaining to him that I'm just a psychologist and at this point had only been soaking up government dollars (just this trip is costing you all, the taxpayers, around $3500!). However, the event that left us all speechless was when we requested our check from our lunch at Chili's, and the waiter told us that our tab had been taken care of by a 'grateful American.' Still just writing that I feel a heaviness and a sense of awe. The kindness of people is amazing. We walked around with our jaws dropped for several minutes after that one and rationalized it by telling ourselves that someday we may very well be deployed, which will give us an experience to make us feel as though we might actually deserve this.
Speaking of those who deserve the appreciation that the grateful American expresses, I got to see several of those real soldiers at Walter Reed. The day started with lectures, but by mid-morning we were observing the instructor do an interview with a traumatic brain injured patient. This young man is 33-years-old and his beautiful and articulate 27-year-old wife sat with him on stage as the interviewer asked questions about his 15 months in Iraq and the blast that took his left arm as well as his memory of his college days (and Iraq). Patrick is lucky to be alive. Kat has grown up a lot and is now married to a different person who she will spend the rest of her life caring for. It was gut-wrenching to listen to them tell the story of just how close to death Pat came especially since the blast happened in the very last week of his tour and he had volunteered to go back out on this brief mission. He regrets not just staying in the office that day. The anger, the grief for a life together they lost, and optimism about the future was palpable in the room as they spoke. Pat was an English major in college, a left-handed writer, who joined the Army after 9/11. After watching this couple, I realized that one of the most difficult aspects of TBI is that it robs a person of their personality. Kat is loving a different man than she married. She too is a warrior.
At lunch I observed several amputees in the cafeteria getting their trays, paying for their food, and making their way through an ordinary day at the hospital, probably one of many. There was one young man in a wheelchair. He had lost both his legs and both of his arms. I tried not to stare, but I watched as he managed to get his tray on his lap, balance the plate of food, and still fix his own drink. I resisted the urge to help, knowing this is his journey; his work. Another gentleman was on crutches with both his left leg and left arm missing. Looking in the faces of these guys, I saw a determination to carry on with life that conveyed a sense of, 'today is just another day'; no different than the faces I see walking down the streets of Washington D.C. Ordinary yet so different. It was awesome to see the state-of-the-art facility that is Walter Reed. If you ever want to see government dollars put to good use, just go visit that hospital. They have facilities to train these guys to not only get back to tasks like walking, running, and driving, but also to do the things they enjoy like hunt and fish in wheelchairs or with prosthetics. The people who work there are so enthusiastic about what they do. I felt proud to be an American. Humbled to be considered a soldier.
So... now when I get thanked in the airport, I have a point of reference. I know who these grateful Americans are thanking, and I can think of these guys as I respond... "it's my pleasure."
Sunday, September 27, 2009
Monday, September 7, 2009
Welcome to Texas!
So, I've been meaning to get another blog written but haven't had time. I told myself, "no more fun time on the computer until the data for the dissertation is all in!" The spreadsheet is done!! Now I have time to write about my run last weekend...
I got up early and drove out to Medina Lake. Being a girl who grew up in the Ozarks where lakes and rivers were aplenty, I have found myself wishing for tall trees and natural, unchlorinated water. It was dark, but as I drove I came across a bridge that had water below. I knew this had to be the place! I drove out about another 7 or 8 miles. I was still not seeing a dam or a lake as the map had predicted, but, at this point, I needed to get running so I pulled off the barely traveled road to park. I headed down the road toward the river. There were very few cars and probably only about four or five houses along the 8 miles it took me to get down to the river. It was very nice and very much like home (except I had to pretend the trees were taller!). I saw about 10 deer! Again, much like home. As I was running down the hill leading to the river, off in the distance I could see the lake! Beautiful! It looked sort of like Table Rock- lots of bluffs/rock along the edges. I couldn't wait to get there so I could see it up close. Much to my disappointment as I approached the river, I saw several "NO TRESSPASSING" signs and the river had a fence around it. Huh? A river with a fence? That's weird. Now that I think of it, everything had a fence. The few houses I saw had fences around them. The pastures... all fenced. As a matter of fact, even the deer were residing within a very tall fence. I stopped on the bridge and admired the view of the river, wishing I could get down there and dip my hands in to wipe away some of the sweat that was accumulating on face (salt in eyes = not good when running). I headed back up the hill, making a turn to the right in the direction of the lake. I ran another couple of miles, thinking I would eventually get to the lake. Nope. I made it to a 'T' in the road that had a big fat sign saying, "No public access; private property only." Hhhhmmm.... so where does a girl go to see some water around here? I headed back to my car, finished my run, and as I was driving back toward the highway, I came across a road where I could turn to the left and see the lake. Here it is! I turned down this road and was promptly met by a woman on a golf cart. She informed me this was private property, a resort, and they weren't taking any guests. I apologized and explained that I just wanted to see the lake. With a warm smile and a generous spirit (sarcasm), she indicated I could park and take 5 minutes to look at the lake. I did just that, walking down the hill to get a better look. As I was leaving, I stopped at the golf-cart-guarded-gate and asked if there were any public access places. The nice, Texan lady (sarcasm) informed me that the lake was privately owned by all the landowners around the lake. Only the water was public, and you can't get to the water without going on the private owners' property. "Interesting," I said and explained how I was from Arkansas and pretty much all the lakes and rivers are accessible to anyone. She informed me that this property had been in her husband's family since 1910, and all the landowners had gone in together to build the dam (that's the dam I was thinking I would run across; Table Rock style, WRONG!). I whole-heartedly thanked the lady for allowing me to look at some water and for the history lesson. She cautioned me about running along the roads here (she has no idea how many dangerous highways I've run on), and she informed me that parking along the side of the road could result in me getting met with a shotgun. Welcome to Texas!!
Eventually, I wandered into the little town of Castroville. I found an inn... where I was able to pay $3.00 to access the Medina River. The inn was on the national register for historic places (The Landmark Inn for those of you who know something about Texas or historical places). I got the tour and then was able to enjoy a leisurely walk on the grounds. I scoped the place out quite well, and when I realized no one else was walking the grounds, I took my big chance. After getting up the gumption, I stripped down to undergarmets and jumped in! It felt AWESOME! I hurriedly got out due to my fear of snakes and the fact that I couldn't see the bottom of this river. I felt vindicated! Finally, I got to swim in a Texas river! Refreshing!!
On a completely different note, my brother, niece, and Austin came to visit me this weekend. We went to the Shlitterbahn (I think that's how you spell it?). Texans have gotten so savy with their water use. These folks in New Braunsfel have figured out how to take ordinary river water and turn it into a water park! Yes, unchlorinated water is piped into water slides and pools for lots (and lots and lots) of people to use. I was actually wishing for chlorine. The park is built along the Comal River, and you can see the people riding down the river on tubes. Google this activity... this tubing thing. You will not believe the numbers of people who float around on these tubes! And we complain about tourists on Memorial Day at the Buffalo! It's very interesting.
And, finally, in Texas everyone has a tattoo. Period. Not much else to say about that... I'm starting to think they're born into the world with these tattoos. If you're under the age of 18, then you get the almost permanent ones. All sorts of things on their bodies- names, dates, memorials to dead grandmas, and, my personal favorite, Jesus: black velvet style. You know what I'm talking about... those velvet "paintings" that are sold on the side of the road. That Jesus. You might also conjure up your favorite image of Jesus on a plate; except think about it on the side of 300 pound guy's leg. :)
Gotta love me some Texas!
I got up early and drove out to Medina Lake. Being a girl who grew up in the Ozarks where lakes and rivers were aplenty, I have found myself wishing for tall trees and natural, unchlorinated water. It was dark, but as I drove I came across a bridge that had water below. I knew this had to be the place! I drove out about another 7 or 8 miles. I was still not seeing a dam or a lake as the map had predicted, but, at this point, I needed to get running so I pulled off the barely traveled road to park. I headed down the road toward the river. There were very few cars and probably only about four or five houses along the 8 miles it took me to get down to the river. It was very nice and very much like home (except I had to pretend the trees were taller!). I saw about 10 deer! Again, much like home. As I was running down the hill leading to the river, off in the distance I could see the lake! Beautiful! It looked sort of like Table Rock- lots of bluffs/rock along the edges. I couldn't wait to get there so I could see it up close. Much to my disappointment as I approached the river, I saw several "NO TRESSPASSING" signs and the river had a fence around it. Huh? A river with a fence? That's weird. Now that I think of it, everything had a fence. The few houses I saw had fences around them. The pastures... all fenced. As a matter of fact, even the deer were residing within a very tall fence. I stopped on the bridge and admired the view of the river, wishing I could get down there and dip my hands in to wipe away some of the sweat that was accumulating on face (salt in eyes = not good when running). I headed back up the hill, making a turn to the right in the direction of the lake. I ran another couple of miles, thinking I would eventually get to the lake. Nope. I made it to a 'T' in the road that had a big fat sign saying, "No public access; private property only." Hhhhmmm.... so where does a girl go to see some water around here? I headed back to my car, finished my run, and as I was driving back toward the highway, I came across a road where I could turn to the left and see the lake. Here it is! I turned down this road and was promptly met by a woman on a golf cart. She informed me this was private property, a resort, and they weren't taking any guests. I apologized and explained that I just wanted to see the lake. With a warm smile and a generous spirit (sarcasm), she indicated I could park and take 5 minutes to look at the lake. I did just that, walking down the hill to get a better look. As I was leaving, I stopped at the golf-cart-guarded-gate and asked if there were any public access places. The nice, Texan lady (sarcasm) informed me that the lake was privately owned by all the landowners around the lake. Only the water was public, and you can't get to the water without going on the private owners' property. "Interesting," I said and explained how I was from Arkansas and pretty much all the lakes and rivers are accessible to anyone. She informed me that this property had been in her husband's family since 1910, and all the landowners had gone in together to build the dam (that's the dam I was thinking I would run across; Table Rock style, WRONG!). I whole-heartedly thanked the lady for allowing me to look at some water and for the history lesson. She cautioned me about running along the roads here (she has no idea how many dangerous highways I've run on), and she informed me that parking along the side of the road could result in me getting met with a shotgun. Welcome to Texas!!
Eventually, I wandered into the little town of Castroville. I found an inn... where I was able to pay $3.00 to access the Medina River. The inn was on the national register for historic places (The Landmark Inn for those of you who know something about Texas or historical places). I got the tour and then was able to enjoy a leisurely walk on the grounds. I scoped the place out quite well, and when I realized no one else was walking the grounds, I took my big chance. After getting up the gumption, I stripped down to undergarmets and jumped in! It felt AWESOME! I hurriedly got out due to my fear of snakes and the fact that I couldn't see the bottom of this river. I felt vindicated! Finally, I got to swim in a Texas river! Refreshing!!
On a completely different note, my brother, niece, and Austin came to visit me this weekend. We went to the Shlitterbahn (I think that's how you spell it?). Texans have gotten so savy with their water use. These folks in New Braunsfel have figured out how to take ordinary river water and turn it into a water park! Yes, unchlorinated water is piped into water slides and pools for lots (and lots and lots) of people to use. I was actually wishing for chlorine. The park is built along the Comal River, and you can see the people riding down the river on tubes. Google this activity... this tubing thing. You will not believe the numbers of people who float around on these tubes! And we complain about tourists on Memorial Day at the Buffalo! It's very interesting.
And, finally, in Texas everyone has a tattoo. Period. Not much else to say about that... I'm starting to think they're born into the world with these tattoos. If you're under the age of 18, then you get the almost permanent ones. All sorts of things on their bodies- names, dates, memorials to dead grandmas, and, my personal favorite, Jesus: black velvet style. You know what I'm talking about... those velvet "paintings" that are sold on the side of the road. That Jesus. You might also conjure up your favorite image of Jesus on a plate; except think about it on the side of 300 pound guy's leg. :)
Gotta love me some Texas!
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