Holiday Store Gophers

I have decided to come up with a new game. One that won’t result in much for prizes or redeemable tickets that you trade in for the toys we are too ignorant to understand cost about as much as the mold on the back of your toilet if you were to sell it to science, or to Sam. Anyway, this game’s only reward will probably be of self satisfaction and perhaps a little bit of a cardiac work out. It will indeed result in angry parents, astonished customers and probably a beating by the local authorities. You know the game we all played at the fair where you bop the gophers on the head. Yeah, that game…but this time the gophers are obnoxious, annoying, loud, out of control kids at the department store. You see here in the military overseas you only one and if you are lucky two stores to do any sort of shopping in. Yet these mongrels destroy every trip you ever make. So I think we should be allowed a nerf bat to carry around the store with us and when one of these mongrels get out of line we get to bop them over and over and as often as we want until there is no resistance. I mean the other day I went into the store to buy some plastic containers and Christmas wrapping paper. I was attacked by our little friend “anxiety” because the place was over run by rambunctious, screaming, lack of disciplined kids. I didn’t even make it to the right isle before turning around and walking…no running out of the store. So tomorrow I am going in with a nerf bat and the first little hellion that wants to use my leg as urinal or punching bag is going to hand over 15 tickets or 7 tokens….because I am going for the high score!

Disclaimer – I do love kids just not all of them!

The Perfect Gift

What do you get someone that has everything? I know, most of us don’t know anyone that actually “has everything” but they all seem to act like it. I mean, it is like when you call someone no matter what time you dial them up…they are never sleeping! Does everyone stay up 24 hours a day? It can be 0300 or 3:00 AM for you civilians and they sound like death has warmed over and when you ask if they were sleeping EVERYONE says, “No I wasn’t sleep’n…just resting my eyes.” Same with gifts, birthday, anniversary, Christmas…we all get the same response, “You don’t have to get me anything. Or Nah, I don’t need anything”. I mean everyone is a liar if they say they don’t ‘want’ something but I understand that we don’t all need something. So why do we always get in trouble when we actually don’t get anything for that person? I had a girlfriend once that said she didn’t want me to get her anything for Christmas, just my time was enough for her. So I believed her and this is where I went wrong. She got me three gifts…and I got her none. Score: Her 3 vs Me 0 She wins. I know all you with wives and husbands no what I am talking about. So what do we do? We 99.9% of the time get no hint whatsoever and when we do finally through pain stacking, screaming kids, long lines, fake sales and anxiety attacks pick something out…we are inevitably wrong and should have never put our socks on to began with! Agh the agony! So what is the perfect gift? I know for me it is something that makes me happy, or can keep me occupied. Clothes for gifts should be burned unless I say, “I need a pair of Silver Tab Levis 34/34 loose fit” Then it is ok. Other than that, cast them to the demons. Now, take my friends, I know what most of them would want as a perfect gift. Could be wrong, but not likely.
Pegg – Records, cigars, book of rare poetry, or perhaps an intellectual read
Forrester – Records, cigars, (burn the books), nice coffee mug, a stein
Pegg – anything with harley on it, a good laugh, not toothpaste
Sam – Rare waiting to be found band’s music, a spiritual challenge, photograph crap. stickball game
River – weird off the wall posters and tshirts, Crossroads the dvd

Riley - anything Shinny
In return all of my friends would say what they wanted. Why do you all insist on responding with, “Nothing.” Or “I don’t know, pick something out for me.” Let me tell you what I hear when this happens. “Oh crap, I will go to the store 16 times and maybe actually make it to a check out counter twice only to turn back with tears in my eyes and elbowing everyone who gets in the way. Settling on cash/check/or a gift card to some store that I didn’t know you hated.” So for the love of all that is good and holy, just tell your loved one, your friend, or your parents what it is you want. Save us all the irritation, spitting up babies, grumpy new Yorkers (don’t know why I used this anology…just deal with it), and frustrated sales clerks who must have forgotten why they were hired to begin with. Just tell us what you want or don’t expect anything other than a crappy hallmark card. To be cont…

Thanks to the Undeserving

With the good ole Turkey Day approaching quick and sneakily I am going to share my 'thanks' with those who in my eyes don't deserve it at all. In fact I think they should be called out for all eternity on their arrogant and at times ignorant choices...or giving’s if you may.
-To the family that sat down next to me tonight (despite the 5 booths open on either side of) with 4 kids all wanting to disregard their dinner and play with their "must have toy' at the table. I should have tried to convince them that their kids could indeed choke on them. I love that warning, "choking hazard for kids under 5", how about..."The guy you sat by is a choking hazard for moronic parents and obnoxious kids who insist on stealing your fries".
- To the German waitress whom when I attempted to order my entire meal and friend’s meal in German, answered in better English than me and proceeded to ridicule me on not knowing German saying, “You Americans really should learn German.” Funny thing is her English wasn’t that good because I translated that into, “Please shove your fork through my jugular vein…and twist”.
- To the German Poltzei who gave me a speeding ticket for going 3 miles over the speed limit. So you can imprison millions of Jews but I can’t accidentally go 3 miles over the speed limit? So why doesn’t the “I didn’t know the speed limit sign was there” work as good as “What concentration camp?”
- To all the companies that don’t ship to APO addresses…thanks for your military support.
- To the secretary of the eye clinic. Apparently when they sent me a letter, an email and even a voice mail that my appointment was at 9 AM they actually meant to say, “We know you are scheduled for 0900 but if you aren’t here by 0800 then we are going to cancel you and try to reschedule by 2008.”
-To the guy who constipated Sam by sitting next to him in the stalls. Because that is just funny.
- To Pam, for leaving Pegg to fend for himself…poor guy.
- To Nash’s teacher for making Aaron want to chew is own arm off.
- To the patient with bad breath whom Dr. Pegg has to work on making him grossly sick and wanting to vomit all over the place but can’t so he does a little in his mouth because of his mask and ends up swallowing it again. At least it was a warm snack!
- To the lady whom stood behind me at the post office this morning. I have no idea how but for some reason my obvious avoidance of eye contact, nervous jittering and even pretending to be on my cell phone actually translated into, “please tell me all about your surgery two months ago, your busy Christmas shopping, your annoying job and your son and his wife who had to wrestle a guy away from their children at dinner because he was trying to shove the happy meal toy down their throat.”

Happy Turkey Day to all of you...you B@$%@*&$

Murses

What is it about the “Fockers” of this world that seem to ruin it for the rest of us? Dr. Pegg’s portrayl of us as mean nasty bastards that live only to torture our patients was quite hurtful. I mean it is true, there isn’t much else to do at 0300 then wait for you pathetic whiners to fall asleep then rush in with a O2 monitor and of course a BP cuff. The pain scale…why can’t you get it right? You are sitting there on the phone laughing, and when I ask, “What is your pain on a scale of 1-10?” I get a chuckle and an “8”. I know you just want the high, but don’t you realize that it was morphine they gave the guy in Saving Private Ryan just before he died? Think about that next time you want pain meds! Yes I am a male nurse but think how hard this is for me. I once dated a doctor for some time. Ah, I know what you are thinking…and no…SHE was a FEMALE DOCTOR. But I had to specify that every time because just dating a ‘doctor’ lead you down the paths of homoerotic ness. But yes, a male nurse can date a female doctor and it be ok! Pegg, I wish I was your nurse for your brief stay because I would have doped you up, sponge bathed you, and then shut the lights off, taken your call bell from you and simply prayed that you be awake in the morning. At this point you would still only get the one slice of bacon, one scoop of runny scrambled eggs, and if you are lucky a pancake filled with more air than batter. Enjoy it…because you are in my world sunshine and as you witnessed, we can make your life hell! All that aside, I am thankful that you are aight Doc, because I would have hated to see the EMTs scrapping Sam’s dung off your back!

Thoughts...or are they?

You ever wonder where you mind runs to at the weirdest times? You have to get curious when you should already know the answer? Or the fact that when we try to think about nothing we are already failing at our simplest goal. What about when your coach tells you, “Don’t think about it, just do it.” Is that even possible? How can we think but not consider our ramifications for doing exactly what it is we are convincing ourselves not to do. I don’t get it when our mind leaves us most of the time. For example, this afternoon I woke up (I mean I love to sleep, some call it depression, I call it a hobby) and found one shoe in the living room and the other in the office…three rooms apart. What was I doing that was so important that I leave one shoe hopelessly alone three rooms down. I try to remember awkwardly running with a lopsided cantor into the next room…for what? Perhaps a ringing phone that was inevitably the wrong number anyway. This opens an entirely separate door that always leave me mindless. I would suck at those game shows when presented with that question. “Do you want door #1, #2, or #3?”. They all look the same but they all have different outcomes and I would panic. “I will take door #4” Going home a loser again! Back to the phone…why are wrong numbers never busy? I can’t seem to figure that one out, much so the same with the shoe mystery, and random thoughts. I mean what is a random thought? Don’t you have to intentionally think something in order for it to happen? Or when you ask someone, “What are you thinking?” And they respond with, “Oh, nothing.”….LIARS!!!! My goal one time was to absolutely not think of anything for 9 seconds. I figured 10 would be to hard and bull riders can do 8 so 9 seemed good. I couldn’t do it, not even for 9 lousy seconds…this makes me a failure. I need to figure something else out that I can conquer, but first I must start with finding my socks!

Veterans Day

Many of you have shared with me my 554,400 minutes in Iraq. Many of you know that I wear my uniform everyday. Many of you know and shared in the stories of my close calls, my work, my passion, my love for the uniform, and my near death experiences while deployed. But what many of you don't know are the stories I have heard, the heroes I have mended, and those soldiers who died and gave the ultimate sacrifice not only for the cause but for their fellow brethren and sister in uniform. It is some of those stories I am going to share with you today, many...if not all you have never heard of and probably never would. I do however want to start this entry with my love and a shout of honor to my brother Aaron Holleyman, who a year removed of his sacrifice continues to watch us from above...proud of all he sees. These stories were either witnessed first hand from yours truly, or passed on to me by those involved because I cared for them either in Iraq or in Germany. Some of them will knock you off your feet and honestly, I hope they take your breath away too...
- One of the first patients I took care of when the war started was a young 22 year old SGT who while riding in the back of a vehicle with his squad had a grenade thrown into the back where they were sitting. He knew he didn't have time to throw it back out because it would have exploded in the middle of them. Instead, he grabbed the canister, tucked it up under is flack jacket and turned is body between the grenade and his buddies. Thankfully the canister was not a grenade but a smoke bomb which when ignited it severely burned his chest and face...but this SGT had no idea at the time what it was...all he knew was that he had to do something.
-I not to long ago had a young SPC that stepped out of his vehicle and was shot in the neck. Nothing vital was hit and he was ok. His commander an LTC was so upset that a sniper hit his soldier that he sent the entire unit out to find him. They cornered the insurgent and LTC turned the corner to be shot twice in the legs by him. As he was falling he turned into the room and was firing until out of ammo; but the insurgent kept going. So the Sergeant Major (highest ranking enlisted) ran into the room and went hand to hand with the insurgent. A short few seconds later drug him out by the collar.
-A soldier while in Iraq fell into the Tigris River. With all his gear on you don't have much time. His two buddies dove in after him to save him, but they too had their gear on. Three days later we found their bodies.
- While on foot chase after some insurgents in Baghdad another young SGT was in hot pursuit of a gunman. He turned the corner only to met by a 9mm only 3 inches from his face. All he remembers was a blinding light, a loud noise, and feeling like he was on the wrong end of an Ali knock out punch. But after staggering backward he realized he was still alive. Standing in front of him was a wide eyed insurgent starring at ghost. He quickly "delt" with the insurgent and then went to the Combat Support Hospital. He said, "I was just shot in the face, but I am still standing here." Although only a small cut was showing above the lip x-rays revealed a bullet lodge in the roof of his mouth and gums. He literally caught the bullet with his teeth...superman is a pansy!
-Perhaps one of the most touching stories I have been apart of occurred recently while I was working in the ICU. I had a patient, I think he was 36 years old, married with three kids. He was severely burned, 3rd degree burns over 73% of his body. While riding in the second vehicle he watched as the Bradley Fighting Vehicle in front of him was blown up. His 6 soldiers were trapped inside, burning alive and screaming for God to deliver them. Acting in God's shoes this day was SFC C. He ran up to the molting metal door and pulled it open and continued to drag each and every soldier out of there. Even while he stepped into the furnace and his own boots and clothes were burning off, he continue to drag them out potentially saving all their lives. They all came to Germany in critical condition but alive, and all because one man threw everything aside for his boys. I pray for his recovery.

The Pirate

I have to admit that I am not exactly sure what provokes us to make some of our decisions, especially at the most inopportune times. Touching on the previous subjects of Sam and Aaron is the ever on going debate of “pumping a grumpy”. However, their arguments rest in the utter dismay of public pooping. There is one other place with one other unlikely visitor that trumps all of the above. That is the ever presence of the “Floater”. Your arch nemesis, the toilet god that will win every battle. He will parry every offensive attack you toss at him. There is no way around this. I recently encountered this adversary at dinner party. Yes I know, “Who poops at a dinner party?” That would be me. Maybe it was a stomach virus, too much coffee, bad food, or just the fact that when you got to take “the browns to the super bowl” no one is getting in the way of that. I could not wait for home field advantage. So in the overcoming odds of the visiting palace I quietly excused myself from the table. Thinking I could set a record time much like our buddy “River Rob Ricochet” does each and every time he graces the thrown. I set off with a mission to accomplish. “Grunt…..aaaggghhhh…ooohhh….DONE!!!” It was a masterpiece a true work of art and the best thing is no one would have expected what just took place. It was odorless, clean, and noiseless. Much like a sniper in the bush. Until…while washing my hands I looked over and spotted the “Pirate” floating just under the surface. I panicked and slammed the flusher with a slight curse and then waiting in anticipation…waiting…NNNNOOOOOO!!!!!! He is back this time to my dismay I spot a slight smirk, then quickly realized it was possibly some corn or a peanut. I flush again…NOTHING…I PLUNGE…NOTHING!!!! He or she is still there circling his new claimed waters. I start to sweat, my plan of a quick getaway has failed I must return. But wait, they will all now know that it was me, there is no victory. I throw in the towel, and start back down the hallway with the pale look of death on my face and the sweat on my forehead shows my defeat. What I thought was an odorless, quick accomplished mission turned into the battle of the bowl, and I was defeated and could only ponder what discussion would come. And there she was, oh no, the one girl, the girl that I have been ogling all night. I was about to ask her out later that night and she was heading to the battle grounds. It was to late, nothing to do. I wiped my brow, offered the evening greeting. I mean what do you say at this point? “He don’t let it bite you” or “Sorry about that, if you think of a name let me know.” I returned to my seat with the quick thinking comment of, “I love those family pictures in the hallway!” I then sat down, and out of the corner of my eye waited the return of the for sure traumatized victim, for the floater sneaks up on all and with out a doubt, never sinks to defeat.

Morning Shakiness

Each morning when the deafening sound of the machine resting on my nightstand bellows out to all that can hear, forgetting that it is just I that lie there, I slowly pull myself out of the comfort of about the only thing I find joy in and hobble my way towards life itself. Life for me is always found at the end of just a few steps...
1. Filter
2. Fill filter with grounds
3. Pour water
4. Close apparatus
5. Flip switch
6. Wait...
7. Drink
But it does not stop here. I must consume this life until my very arms down to the hands begin to shake and tremor. My head feels like there is nothing there, and my stomach is cursing me from the inside out. If you haven't experienced this...you are missing out. It is at this point I realized before I drank this black cup of satisfaction that my blood had started to enter my coffee system, and this we can not have. It is now that I can start my day and move on with out a second thought. One and a half pots later...my day is beginning.