A Couple of Good Men
Photo by Benjamin Faust on Unsplash
One of the benefits of being a nurse is that sometimes I find myself in the middle of an interaction with a patient that transcends the medical purpose of their visit. Such was the case recently when I was passing time with a patient and a nurse anesthetist. We were waiting for the doctor to arrive to perform a minor medical procedure. As we all talked, the patient mentioned he was a veteran of the first Gulf War. Coincidentally, so was my colleague the anesthetist. Their connection streamlined the conversation. Although they had never met until this morning, both were stationed out of Ft. Campbell, KY, and both were deployed at the same time to the deserts of Iraq. One worked on the medic team and the other repaired Chinook and Black Hawk helicopters.
I listened. The patient told of his enlistment as a Junior in High School. He spoke of his love of his military life despite the realities of war. I looked at him, imagining him an 18 year old deployed to the desserts of Iraq carrying his life in his pack. I asked him if he would do it all over again, and without hesitation he said yes.
The anesthetist spoke of his service on a medic team on the Kuwait/Iraq border. He recalled the isolation of his post, the supplies (sometimes archaic) at his disposal. He spoke of a mission to identify bodies of those who perished from a helicopter crash. I was horrified as I heard the details of this task. These two men spoke in a language of code, their heads nodding in understanding of the brotherhood of what it means to be in the mix of war. I was transfixed by their stories. The usual attempts to empathize or bring universality in response felt trite. I sat there speechless drawn into this unexpected intimacy of sharing by these two men who probably didn’t expect to have this opportunity on this early morning to tap into the ghosts of their war past. My heart ached for them, exposed to the calamities of combat and the wake of war’s aftermath.
Thousands and thousands of veterans walk among us, their war experiences camouflaged by the circumstances of life reentered. Upon enlistment, one can speculate and dream about what military duty will look like, and for so many, their real life stories often bear the burdens of loss, destruction, and comradeship understood only by another whose been there and done that. This morning I was humbled.
The doctor finally arrived and the patient tolerated the procedure without incident. The anesthetist and I moved on to the next case, and the day returned to it’s ordinary flow. Both men, I am certain resumed the order of their days with pleasantries and purpose. My awareness, however, expanded a bit. So many brave men and women who have served the call of the military walk among us, their lives seemingly commonplace, but whose memories include the range of war experience.
Even now, young men and women are bringing the best of themselves to the challenges of our world’s brokenness. My hope for them is that they will remain warm amidst the chill of conflict, will resist isolation amidst the pain of loss, and will keep themselves open to the fellowship waiting for them when they return home. You never know when such a bond can be shared. As for the rest of us? Our gratefulness rests within the spaces of their stories.