Two in One Day?

May 11, 2010

 

Today I sat in a crowd of people, sleep deprived and teary eyed, and stared at ten men in wonder and awe and later was able to shake their hands as THEY thanked ME for being here. What an honor to be in the same room as these men. What courage they have. You may ask why I'm having this reaction. Three words: Operation Proper Exit.

 

For those of you who are unaware of the meaning behind those three words, I'll explain a little further. I first heard of this program via an AFN commercial (hooah!), thought it was wonderful and a little scary, and never thought much beyond that (funny how one can completely tune out AFN commercials unless the word "Iraq" is used). Anyways, this is a closure program for wounded warriors.

 

I had employed Kirsten to attend with me because I didn't know how emotional it would be. Who wants to be a sobbing basket case by herself, after all? I am happy to report that, though I got teary eyed on a few occasions, I did not once cry. All of the credit for that can be placed on the ten, though. There was not one ounce of self-pity apparent to anyone in the crowd, just a concern for and dedication to fellow service members and the mission.  They very matter-of-factly handed out information and threw in a little bit of comedy tour, too.

 

I watched each of the ten men stand individually and tell what had caused their physical injuries. Some looked physically normal and were (one will be returning to combat, probably in Afghanistan, soon), while others had lost various body parts, whether hands, legs, arms, or eyes. A few had been in comas for extended periods of time while their bodies healed. One told us that his parents were told that their son may never wake up from his coma, and if he did he'd never walk or talk again. Another's life sounded like a country song: woke up from a coma and his mama told him he lost his left arm and leg, his wife left him, and his dog had died. Someone else has had 66 surgeries thus far and has had to be reconstructed basically from head to toe, and is now enjoying the civilian world, getting an education, and wishing he could be back on the front lines. One had been through Balad before, though he didn't remember because of his injuries. When he returned this week the hospital showed him pictures of his innards from when he was med-evaced into and out of Balad.

 

All spoke about wishing they could have continued their mission, coming back to Iraq to keep promises to their troops, or the vast improvements that they have seen in the efforts in Iraq since they were last here. They spoke of patriotism, the love of their work, and faith. They thanked and encouraged those service members who are still here fighting for a cause that they feel justifies their missing limbs.

 

The floor was opened for questions and then the funny and down-to-earth heroes began talking about the real issues that the military is facing currently, not just physical ailments but especially mental ones: PTSD, suicide rates, how to help or at least try to help. There is no easy answer was the conclusion. Understand that it's difficult to seek help for something mental, especially when there's still more mission. Keep your eyes open. Always be there and willing to help.

 

How incredibly humbling.