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The whirling roar of the Black Hawk choppers summoned the hurricane of action at the IBN Sina hospital. It was another mass casualty crisis hitting the landing pad. This something we of the 10th Combat Support Hospital were becoming accustomed to; perhaps a little too accustomed to for our personal liking. Like worker ants, we formed our work chain and began to get the casualties quickly evaluated from most severe to least and sent them to the appropriate areas.
Sadly, during those times, the normal ER staff was outnumbered by the number of wounded patients. Many of the hospital staff from other areas were called to help out, regardless of where the help came from. And as such, everyone in the Nutrition Care Division were cross-trained in ER procedure techniques.
With the rush of activity, chaos was ever-present; eager to rear its ugly head to cause trouble. We had to be like Jedi Knights, calm and collective even in the face of panic and disaster. Everything had to flow like clockwork; if not, then the patients would have a very real chance of dying while in our care.
The first victim brought to my area was a young Iraqi boy with burns over 35% of his body. The boy evidently was caught in the blast of an IED (Improvised Explosive Device). We all had mixed feelings on the issue. Under normal circumstances, a child like this would have a decent survival rate outside of the hospital. But this was Iraq. Sanitation was as rare as seeing Barney the Dinosaur in a horror movie. Ever wonder why Iraqi people consider it offensive to shake a person’s hand with the left hand? Here’s a hint; bathroom tissue isn’t a very common thing in many homes. It was all too easy for someone to get an infection in such an environment, and for a child with severe burns it was something that would prove fatal. Burns require the patient to remain in a sterile environment, and in such a place where sanitation does not exist outside of the hospital, infection would take hold swiftly, often with lethal results.
But despite this knowledge, we worked swiftly and efficiently to stabilize the boy. It was our job to get the child ready for treatment. From our viewpoint, we were giving the child a bit more time to live in this world; a few days or weeks to prepare for his journey into the afterlife, to say his farewells to his family and loved ones, time that he would not have without our intervention.
It certainly gives a person a reality shock when they see death everyday as we did; to take into account just how fragile and short life really is. So many people think there will always be a tomorrow, when in truth the good Lady Nebthet and the good Lord Yinepu could come to take us from this world at any moment. We are not guaranteed another day, another hour, or even another minute.
Our next patient was an Australian soldier with shrapnel almost lining both of his legs. As he lay there unconscious due to the anethstesia, we jested how lucky the man was that he wore the kevlar flap attachment that covered his groin area. There were several pieces of shrapnel embedded in that flap, but none of while reached the area it was protecting. If that flap had not been there, chances would have been really good that he would have to adopt if he ever wanted children.
The third person my team had to stabilize was a captured terrorist. For the protection of everyone, he was heavily blindfolded, gagged, and strapped to the gurney. He had four bullet holes along his left arm, which was all but barely hanging onto the shoulder joint. I had to stuff away my hate. Even though that man was more than likely responsible for the wounding and death of many good people, he was still a patient. And judging from the wounds, his arm would need to be amputated. Our task was to numb the pain and stop the bleeding; to get him stabilized for surgery. In my mind, I wanted to skip the first part so he could feel the pain of all of the death and suffering he brought to others. However, it was not my place to judge, only to heal. To act and think on such a level would make me no better than him.
Patients flowed in and out of the ER like an assembly line. The most severe cases were sent to surgery, while others were carted off to the X-ray lab, the Intensive Care Unit, Intensive Care Ward, or simply to Sick Bay if the injury did not fall under the categories of Life, Limb or Eye Sight. For hours on end, the battle for life was as fearsome as the war that raged outside of the green zone. It required tactics, a sound mind, team work, and split-second reactions. And every second that ticked on the clock was like a bullet fired at our chances to save the lives of those who entered the emergency room.
I think people should take a look at what goes on overseas instead of whining and complaining all of the time about all the theories and rumors surrounding the war. Before we came, rape and murder were as common there as McDonalds restaurants are here, while medical care was something reserved for the elite few. People lived in fear for their lives unless they were on Saddam’s upper payroll or part of his twisted family. Now the people of Iraq have a chance for a better life. It’s far from perfect, and it may take years, perhaps even generations before things settle down, but I have personally seen the good in what has happened and the effect we have had on the lives of the Iraqi people. I am proud that I have served not only my country, but the people of Iraq as well. And this is what it means to be a soldier.