Tuesday, August 31
Monday, August 30
Sunday, August 29
Friday, August 27
Thursday, August 26
Wednesday, August 25
Tuesday, August 24
Monday, August 23
"Is that the source?" The bullet ripped one of the vein near the heart causing massing bleeding which caused anemia. Luckily his partner bullet wounds were easier to treat and he'll be able to drive them back to town tomorrow. In this kind of profession all the seconds count; I overheard Helsinqui tell John that if it had taken just a couple more seconds to find the source of the bleeding he wouldn't make it. We don't even know if he'll make it until tomorrow without a transfusion, which is lacking in here: blood supplies. Despite all this, which is a lot by the way, I think I'm kind'a relieved, six months doesn't seem that much long now, although this past week felt like a month.
Sunday, August 22
"What are you doing Potter? Wake up! Retractor!" There's no time to think of how unfair life is out here 'cause it only takes a blink to have no life. The guy bleeding like hell and apparently they can't find the source of the bleeding. "Where is this coming from?" It was suppose to be an easy procedure since it was just a bullet wound but he has some massive internal bleeding coming from god know's where. In science classes we learned that the human body contains about ten pints of blood but you have no idea how much that is until you see what's right in front of me right this instant. "Is there something I can do?"
Saturday, August 21
How further? There's an enemy camp just a few mile west from our camp and we have no idea if it's like ours, basically a little hospital in the middle of the desert, or if it has soldiers ready to attack. We heard these soldiers were attacked just a few miles west from here while in a, say, mission to pick up the half a dozen soldiers declared fit for duty after medical care and a couple others that needed to go to bagdad's hospital. In that truck were only two soldiers and they were both injured which delays the mission and the couple-other-that-needed-to-go-to-bagdad slightly more vulnerable to death. Just…
Friday, August 20
"Are you being paid to sleep? Get up, there's always lot to around here Potter". Now, isn't it the nicest way to wake up? I hate this guy, but today he was quite right about the amount of work; a truck came with two more soldiers in need of surgery. I've seen Grey's show but the reality it's much more, how do I explain this… alive? The rush of adrenaline passing through our veins, it's incredible, absolutely amazing, but there's also a certain fear that comes with it. Fear of doing something wrong that may put the man's life to an end, and believe me, it doesn't take much. The hardest part of all this is learning all the name, not only of the, say, devices that a surgery requires but also of the human stuff we're used to call by the names of "arm bone" or leg bone" and so on.
Thursday, August 19
What now? It's been about an hour since the helicopter flew over us and though I'm really tired I can't sleep. It's always a "what if" that comes to mind when I close my eyes. This is torture, pure torture. I have to get some sleep, no one can stay awake this long, it's impossible. The night feels so right that if I didn't know better I wouldn't say we were at war zone. It all looks so peaceful, laying here under the stars and feeling this fresh desert air on my face. The guys will wake me up if anything happens, I gotta get some sleep.
Wednesday, August 18
What time is it? First thought that comes to mind. Second though: where do I hide? It's still dark and it must have been at least two in the morning when I went to rest, it's way to early to wake up again. It's the second time this week that this helicopter comes this way. It's not one of ours and it doesn't do anything except pass by, but we never know when it's going to do something more than just pass by. This is no story "the boy that cried wolf", because right here there's always the possibility that the wolf may come showing his fangs.
Tuesday, August 17
What else? We work all around this tend like there's no tomorrow, hundreds of men depend on us but what about some rest? I've been here for one week already and I don't think I've ever been so deprived of sleep since freshman year of college. We have, at best, five hours of sleep per night and not only because there's a lot to do but also because we can't sleep any longer. The helicopters are the ones to blame. Every time we hear one above us it means one of two things: enemies bombarding us or more soldiers that need our care. Either way we have to get up and there's no more rest until same hour tomorrow.
Monday, August 16
What am I suppose to do? This all looked good from a certain distance but now that Im here I have no idea what I'm going to do for the next six months. Right now all I can think about is how all my problems sound silly, all these soldiers laying like this, it's horrible. "Don't just stand there Potter, there's a lot of ground to cover. We're short handed, we need you, and try to pick up the pace please". From cleaning up the floor to cleaning a couple of soldiers wounds I think I'm done for today. I've been working nonstop for five hours now and it's my first day, or dare I say, evening. I cannot imagine myself doing this, double of this for the next a hundred and eighty days. I'm just hoping, and secretly wishing, that no one else out there gets hurt, for all of our sake. I'm exhausted.
Sunday, August 15
Who am I kidding? This is not me. I'm not a nurse, I've never even stayed in a hospital overnight. But let's see, I've watched a couple of medical series on my time, this ought not to be much different, or difficult, or I hope. The tent couldn't be more loaded with bed and soldiers than it already is. Apparently as big as the tent is, it's not big enough. There's blood all over the floor and no curtain to separate the soldiers that are already stable from the ones that are having surgery. How can the doctors work under these conditions? How can there be "stable soldiers" while working like this? There's a reason in hospitals doctors operate in OR's.
Saturday, August 14
"Are you even old enough to be here Potter?" Oh no, I don't believe I'm going to have to put off with this guy for six months. This tent was bigger than it looked like from afar. All around there are at least a dozen of smaller tents and this big one on the left corner of the site. They're all white, or were suppose to be, since they're now kind'a yellow, because of the sandstorms I imagine. There are a lot of soldiers around, the odd thing is that they all have bruises of some kind and bandages on some part of their body. They all look alike, they all have this sad worrying look on their faces. How is this fair? "No, they are that desperate that they're sending underages now"
Friday, August 13
What am I doing here? Somehow I thought that following a doctor-- nay, a rude doctor around would be funnier than go on an eurotrip. Oh, right, I forgot, I would either go on this trip alone or with people that, right now, hate me. He cheats on me and from zero to one I became the bad guy for kissing-- because another guy kissed me in front of him. This is what happens when one is always so nice and tries to do everything right. Oh, and apparently I'm naive too. "If you had brought the fact that you saw him cheat on you a bit earlier you wouldn't be in this position--" And what does she know about this kind of stuff? She doesn't even have a boyfriend-- in like, ever. Guess this is what happens when I start dating the guy that my friend said she was never interest in-- yeah, right.
Thursday, August 12
"Why are you smiling?" I think-- wait, what? "Do you think this is funny?" O.k rude guy, knock it off will-- "What's your name rookie?" Who the heck is this guy? "I'm Andrea S--" "You look like a Potter" And he turns his back on me, nice. O.k, and you are? Oh, I know-- rude, and just because I'm polite. Who does he think I am? "Come on Potter, there's a lot of work to do, chop chop" Is he seriously gonna call me that? Potter? And I'm suppose to follow him? Oh, here's the captain-- "I'm sorry, sir, I'm suppose to--?" --listen to that guy? "That is the one of the two doctors that manage this around here, follow him around and obey to his orders and you'll be fine. I'll come back in six months, try to stay alive"
Wednesday, August 11
Am I really here? This doesn't feel real, it's just like a dream, a dream that I'm gonna wake up from any minute now-- No, it's not a dream. The truck has stop and by getting a quick look around this doesn't look so bad as I pictured. For someone that doesn't believe in war this is kind of ironic. You see, war is the same as a relationship, a bad one, because both sides are stubborn, no one takes the blame for the wrong they did and instead send their friend to work it out for them. No one wants to fight, especially when it always ends at someone's death and unfortunately, it's death and all his friends. World peace doesn't fall too far from the tree, all it takes is someone willing to take the wheel and ends this nonsense from one and for all.
Tuesday, August 10
Where am I going? I didn't really thought it through. This truck keeps rolling and I have no idea where the end of the road is, or where it leads to. I thought I was going to the hospital but that's in town, the one I just left is getting further and further away. This trip is really working since all I can think is how scary this looks like. There are guys with guns, like big, enormous guns, at every checkpoint we pass by. Maybe they're putting me somewhere without much action, or at least I hope so. I see something ahead, a camp-- with lots of soldiers-- and a giant tent on the left side of the camp. Fear is overrated, this far away from town there's no change I'll get in trouble.
Monday, August 9
Is this real? I just caught myself thinking that this is nothing but a dream. We've just landed in Iraq and there are hundreds of men looking all the same in these uniforms, it doesn't feel real. Am I really here? Well this isn't as bad as I though but is neither as good as I'd hoped. Everyone is in such a rush, running from one place to another non-stop. The guys that came with me are all going somewhere and I have no idea where I'm suppose to be or go. I'm looking around and everything looks alike and new, but I haven't had time to process if it's a good new or just bad. Someone's yelling at me and I'm beginning to think this isn't my final destination.
Sunday, August 8
What have I got my self into? All it took was an old poster in a no-name street to make want to go to war. What kind of person sees an old poster and wants to go to war? I've never held a gun, I've never even seen one right in front of me. The govern is really desperate to send me to war zone with no skills or what so ever. After seeing this poster I rushed myself to enlist the army and as I got there the first thing they did was look me from top to bottom and ask if I had going crazy. Perhaps I did, who knows. Unfortunately, when I want something really bad I get it, so they had no choice but to send me as a "helper", something like a nurse, only that wasn't the degree I had just gotten.
Saturday, August 7
Why am i here? I came here by choice, something must of these guys didn't have, a choice. Here I am, surrounded by all these army guys who came here to serve their country, already prepared for the worst and wishing they didn't have to be here, and why? What's the point of serving a country that forces you to die for it? I'm not going to Iraq to die, not even to fight , I came to forget. Supposedly the same that any bar that serves scotch would do, but I'm not the kind of girl that drinks to forget. Right now I think I could make an exception, I would very much like to forget that I'm headed to Iraq.
Friday, August 6
Where am I? This all looks the same to me, it's desert, it all looks the same. Just a few days ago I was as happy as anyone could be; the last day of college years had finally come and it was time to finish packing for our eurotrip. What did I do wrong? How did I get here? I feel numb, it all looks cloudy, I can't see straight. Life is made of choices, choices we have to make every single day of our lives, the same choices that lead us to different paths, some better than others. This is my life, I chose this, and although this doesn't feel right right now, deep down, I know it is. After all it was the logical choice, it was for the best.