Posted on 02/17/2008 9:30:57 AM PST by SandRat
CAMP BUEHRING, Kuwait — It was a long flight from Fort Huachuca to Kuwait, a trip that began for me and Herald/Review photographer Suzanne Cronn on Dec. 10.
About 10 days before deploying with the 40th Expeditionary Signal Battalion, I twisted my left ankle and knee.
It was getting better. But while walking up the steps to the DC-10 at Libby Army Airfield on Fort Huachuca, my left knee went out again. That was only made worse when we landed at Bangor, Maine, when deplaning for a refueling stop. My left knee twisted again.
By time I got to Camp Buehring, my left leg had swollen and I could put no pressure on my foot.
After one day of dragging my left foot, I gave up and went to the Navy-operated Troop Medical Clinic at the camp. There I met some of the most professional and dedicated military medics I have ever come across during my 24 years in the Air Force and 26 years in retirement.
Because of my age, 69, and the fact I am a diabetic, the doctor who treated me, Lt. Cmdr. Gretchen Riss, and others, were concerned I might have a blood clot.
Oh, wonderful, here I am in Kuwait with the potential of a clot moving up from my leg into a lung.
I envisioned returning home in a casket.
Calls were made to the Navy-operated hospital at Camp Arijan, where Riss talked with specialists who agreed I could have a potential blood clot in my left leg.
It was decision time.
The night winds were picking up, so a helicopter ride to Camp Arijan was out.
Besides, other tests, such as X-rays and blood tests, were needed to be done at Camp Buehring, which also eliminated the two-hour plus ambulance ride to the hospital.
Navy nurse Lt. Abigail Burrows, bounced in to take some additional vitals signs and to run my blood sugar.
A decision was made to send me out with the patient bus first thing in the morning.
The bus traveled from Camp Buehring, stopping at other installations along the way and picking up other patients to be seen at the hospital.
To ensure I would be all right, Burrows gave me a blood thinning shot to hold me over during the night.
Senior Chief Petty Officer Katrina Sweezy asked if I had eaten dinner.
I hadn’t.
“Well, are you hungry,” she asked.
I was.
Saying they have extra meals brought from the dining facility, Sweezy said she would see what was available. I was soon served steak, vegetable, a roll and a piece of pie on a tray she made out of a cardboard box.
To make it easier for me, Sweezy had cut the steak into small pieces, knowing full well the small plastic knives were useless for that task.
Here I was, a retired Air Force master sergeant being served by a Navy senior chief petty officer as I sat in a wheelchair.
“Boy are you getting the royal treatment,” Burrows whispered.
The next morning I was off to Camp Arijan, my leg throbbing all the way.
At the hospital, I was put into the emergency treatment area where specialists checked me over.
More critical cases, including one of the hospital’s own medics who fainted and a soldier who was helicoptered from Camp Buehring, come in after I arrived.
Fortunately, the medic, whose blood pressure was critically low, was revived, and the chest pains of the soldier were determined to be stress-related — he was to be kept for a couple of days observation.
I was given a sonogram, and no blood clot was found.
A heart specialist wanted to know where I was going and why.
“To Iraq and hopefully Afghanistan to report,” I said.
He said no.
Saying he thought I should leave the area and return to Arizona, this led to a discussion. I pleaded, and he shook his head “no.”
After a few more tests, the doc came back in and said, “OK, you can go to Iraq, but not Afghanistan. If I have your promise you will not go to Afghanistan, you can go on to Iraq.”
An agreement was made, and I was released with some medicine to reduce the swelling of my left leg and given some “happy” pills for the pain.
I also was issued crutches.
By that time I had missed the bus back to Camp Buehring. Two soldiers from the 40th picked me up and drove me back to the camp.
Within a day, my leg was better and I could walk without crutches. I reported back to the camp clinic, did a little dance for those who initially treated me, completed stories in Kuwait and went with Suzanne to Iraq.
I will honestly say I was scared that I might have had a blood clot. While I didn’t, I also must say the treatment I received from the Navy medics in Kuwait was instrumental in giving me the energy to write about them and others who are serving in Iraq, so far from their homes and loved ones.
HERALD/REVIEW senior reporter Bill Hess can be reached at 515-4615 or by e-mail at bill.hess@svherald.com. Hess is retired from the U.S. Air Force, and has spent more than 20 years at the Herald/Review, covering stories in Central America, Somolia, Afghanistan, Kuwait and Iraq.
Good report and I am glad the reporter is OK as it seems he is one of the good ones that can give a balanced report on what he observes. That said, the doctor in Kuwait was probably on target with his advice that the reporter did not belong there, given his age and chronic medical condition. Seems like there could have been better vetting of these matters prior to being sent over.
I see folks taking this report in many ways ...... I see a veteran who is hopefully pro military press vs propaganda press liberal in the arena that didn’t get in the way or take from any resources there. He was offered an extra meal and also as a retired veteran he was authorized medical care. Albeit a hell of an office visit to get too....... :o)
Glad the old guy got some help. DOD medics and Docs were always my saviors along with USAF PJ’s that saved me more than once.
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