"Man-uary"

Another week has come and gone. I had a birthday and started growing my first ever mustache. Most of the guys on night shift started growing mustaches in December. They kept trying to get me to join in but I have never been one for facial hair and so I respectfully declined their offers. On the 8th I was looking for some paperwork that I needed to submit to my commander back home. I had been looking for about 45 minutes when one of the main mustache boys asked what I was looking for. I made the mistake of telling him that if he could find it in less than 2 minutes I would grow a mustache for the rest of the month. In about 25 seconds I had the paperwork in hand and I was on my way to growing my first mustache.

This is Kim Freisen, the man behind my mustache.

 I am just under two weeks in and I have to admit that I am not impressed by my progress. Granted the other guys have several weeks on me but still I have a pretty sad looking caterpillar living under my nose. The sparse hairs are multicolored from blonde to red to black. It really bugs me to have it there. You can't eat anything or blow your nose without it ending up tangled in your lip hairs. My personal opinion is that very few guys were meant to wear Speedos and mustaches and I fall into neither category. I have begged to be able to shave it off but all requests have been denied. Darn those Air Force core values (Integrity, Service, and Excellence).

This is the mustache posse minus Kim who was still sleeping when this was taken.  We lined up from best to worst mustache, obviously best on the left!?  I keep telling myself that it is just because I am a week or so behind the rest but in my heart I know it's just because my 'stache stinks.

Takes you back to junior high doesn't it.

Sorry for the close up the nose shot but you have to get this close to really appreciate the grandeur of my facial hair.

In other news, I turned 37 on the 17th. The first gift I received was arriving at the hospital and putting in the code for the door lock and finding out that it no longer worked. 

This is the kind of door lock we have all around the hospital and the dorms.  It is called a cipher lock.  They usually have a 3-4 number code and they are all different so you just have to remember them.  They are putting these on all the dorm room doors because there has been a problem with thievery. 

I walked around in the dark until I ran into a colonel that was in the same boat. We just waited by the door until someone passed by. I hailed him over and told him that we didn't know the new code. He got all huffy and said that we should have received word through our chain of command. Clearly, we hadn't received the info but the guy just didn't let it go until he noticed that I was standing with a colonel and then his tirade just died in his throat. Stuff like this makes me wonder how we ever got to be the greatest military force in the world. Once inside I received a birthday package from my family and the OR crew made me a cake and sang. There were several people offering to give me birthday spanks but luckily I dodged that bullet.

Here is my fabulous birthday cake.

And here are those who were kind enough to celebrate with me.

You know you have been gone too long when your in-laws forget your name.  This is the label on the birthday package they just sent.  Just kidding Mom and Dad I know you love me, I just thought it was pretty funny.  Right up there with wedding presents that said "Congratulations Cami and Ryan", Ryan being an ex-boyfriend.

      That night we had our first battle casualties of the week. The one that came back to the OR was an Afghan soldier that was walking with his friend when an IED went off. His friend was nearly vaporized by the blast but he was peppered with shrapnel all up the left side of his body. A huge piece of shrapnel entered his left lung and he was losing large amounts of blood. Two chest tubes were placed in the field and then he was flown to us. Once in the trauma room he was assessed and sent to the CT scanner so the extent of his internal injuries could be evaluated. The trauma czar (yes they really call him that) came to the OR and told us that he needed to explore his abdomen for potential organ damage. He was brought into the operating room before we could get blood in the room to start transfusing him. Anesthesia drops the blood pressure of most patients but it really drops the blood pressure of volume depleted patients. This guy was in the latter category. I gave him medications that don't usually drop the blood pressure as bad and kept him only on a whiff of anesthetic gas but his pressure tanked. I gave some medications to bring it up but it doesn't work as well as replacing the blood that is lost. Eventually we got blood in the room and after slamming in six units he started to improve and stabilize. Trauma is almost like a separate animal all together. There are general surgeons that specialize in trauma but in anesthesia you need to learn to do it all. The hospital I work at in San Antonio is a Level I trauma center but rarely am I ever scheduled in that room. I had a great experience in Baltimore when the Air Force sent me to one of the busiest trauma centers in the country to prepare for battlefield trauma. It was a great experience but I had lots of people around to help and guide the resuscitation. Now we are baptized by fire in a feast or famine classroom. I am learning a ton and my confidence in my abilities grows all the time.

This experience is helping me to become a different person in all aspects of my life. It is hard to be away from home but being involved in something significant in the history of the world helps to distract my mind from homesickness. Be safe one and all.

I had to include this photo and the story that goes with it.  Someone ordered XL head covers for the OR and they are huge.  They must have been from the days when the beehive hairdo was all the rage.  Anyway, you could put one on and pull it down over your whole head and face.  One thing about growing up with five boys you are always looking for an opportunity to scare someone.  My unfortunate co-workers are now subjected to this habit of mine.  One day I went into the OR behind one of the nurses who was stocking carts.  I had one of the head covers pulled down over my face.  I ninja'd my way right behind her and quietly said "Boo" and simultaneously poked her in the back.  The most shrill scream I had ever heard erupted from this tiny nurse who spun around and once she saw my face shrouded by the head cover let out another eardrum rupturing scream accompanied by the most horrified facial expression I have had the pleasure of witnessing.  I doubled over laughing on the floor when three or four armed soldiers came bolting in to the room to see who had been murdered.  It was a glorious moment in Bagram history.