Stomach Pumping - OD

One of the first times I heard about and saw stomach pumping was when a GI overdosed. When he was brought in they had him sit on a litter (stretcher)that was on a stand in the ER. They then inserted a tube through his nose into the stomach. Then they would push in saline solution via a large syringe, ultimately pulling out the contents from his stomach. He would sit with a plastic container or bag that they'd empty the contents into. I remember this being done to a number of GI's during my time in Nam and, at times, helping get the patient seated, etc. It seemed so strange seeing this and I wondered what happens if they didn't get everything out of the stomach? What happened if this procedure was started too late?, etc. Being thrown into my tour as part of the hospital was mind boggling for me. I didn't have any medical type training and didn't understand so many things that were being done although I did learn as the year went on. I did have the utmost respect the the Doc's, Nurses, Corpsmen, X-ray Techs, those in my position -- just everyone at the hospital. And I have always wondered by God would have that plan in my life to put me there and I always wish I knew more, had training, etc. Did I help? Did I do enough? Did I make a difference? I'm not sure I'll ever really feel I did but at least coming to some terms with the help of the Nut Dr. Regardless, I'll never forget.

John

A couple months before my discharge I had the opportunity to work with physically and mentally challenged children. Eventually I was in a class with children around the age of 6 or so. In this class was a little boy named John. He always seemed need a hair cut and his appearance was a little unkempt. John was unable to speak but able to make sounds. I'm not sure about his background but I believe it was a little challenging for his family more likely it was they who felt their lives somewhat challenged by him and his disabilities. I took to him right away. I found him to be the sweetest little guy. He was always smiling and if a picture was being taken he was right there with that smile making sure he was in the picture. One day he was in the class room which was empty and there was a word written on the blackboard. He took his fingers and pointed to the word and drew his hand underneath the word and tried to say itr. I just felt then and there that he was just this little guy who probably needed a little more time, love and care and he would just thrive. One day I had a tooth pulled but and went to the school after that. Not a smart move as, of course, there was some bleeding and I really couldn't talk due to that, the numbness, etc. John caught on to the fact I could not speak and really seed to understand what was going on. He wanted to look at my mouth, etc. and just got this big smile on his face. One could not help falling in love with this little man. He was such a joy to be around, always happy and wow, that smile. I have a favorite picture of him where he is making sure he was in the picture and nothing but smiles. I think of him often and wonder how he is and about his life. This was in 1973 so he would be about 49 now but, of course, I still see him as this great little kid who I fell in love with and just wanted to take care of him, love him and make sure he had a happy life. Some may think this is kind a dumb, but I guess if they knew him even as little as I did many would feel the same way. What a little man he was.

Things you remember....

I was with the Nut Doctor this week and sometimes things come out and I wonder where did that come from and why did I say that. All of the sudden I was telling him about coming home from Vietnam and was physically and mentally drained. One day your in Vietnam on Thanksgiving and then you leave and your in San Francisco on Thanksgiving. Then the next day your home and you feel you are in this Twilight Zone where you feel you don't belong, don't know those around you and yearn to be back with your family in Vietnam. It was a terrible feeling that just kept getting worse. Then someone says "Mom, why don't you show Mickey what he did to you when he was in Vietnam." or something to that effect. She then pulls off a wig (she never wore a wig) and she was pretty much totally gray. There seemed to be giggle and laughs from her and my family. Inside I was horrified. Not only did I feel I left my family behind in Vietnam and didn't want to be in Omaha, had guilt I was now home, didn't feel I fit in at all being back, people were dying and now - because of me - my mother has gray hair. I know this sounds really stupid but that is how I felt. It was just one more thing to have guilt about. I always felt I was a poster boy for being Catholic. God knows I carry guilt, especially about Vietnam. Sometimes I am so overwhelmed I just don't know why God just doesn't take me. Maybe I'm already dead and I'm in hell. Maybe I just have not suffered enough. So, I'll stop the post here and stop whining and hope I'm not coming across as feeling sorry for myself because that is not how I feel. It's more that maybe I just never did as good as I should have done. Maybe I should have tried harder, been better, etc. The Nut Doctor told me I remind him of Boxer in Animal Farm. I finally read the book after hearing this from him for some time and I think he is right.

Special Olympics 1973 Boulder Colorado...

There was a program that was started where service men had the opportunity to volunteer and work in a civilian job for three weeks prior to discharge to get them ready for civilian life. After working in the hospital in Vietnam I wanted to be a special education teacher. I knew I was not smart enough to go into a medical profession but thought I might be able to go to college and teach special education. There was no program for that but I was able to set one up and volunteer at the Rocky Mountain Rehabilitation Institute in Colorado Springs. It was a school for mentally and physically challenged children. It was a rough start. I am really quiet and actually quite shy which made it very difficult at first. In a short period of time I was put in a class where I felt I fit in. I loved the kids and going there every day. (I was lucky to have stretched it past three weeks.) One kid's name was John and I took to him immediately. He couldn't speak but I'd see him trying to read a word with his finger under it and felt in my heart that eventually he would be able to speak. During this time the Special Olympics were going to be in Boulder. I was asked if I'd like to go with the kids and I jumped at the chance. We left for Boulder week or so later in the afternoon. Me, an Air Force Bus and Air Force bus driver and about 40 Olympians which were a combination of kids in school, older kids in workshops, etc. It suddenly hit me I was the only chaperon on the bus and really didn't know but 7 or so of those on the bus. Regardless, it was a fun time but as we got close to Denver I started to hear Mic, I need to go to the bathroom and that was echoed more and more. We stopped at a gas station and there was a mass exodus. They were in the gas station trying to put pennies in the machine for candy and pop, going to the bathroom and, well, everywhere. Stupid me didn't even then they would swarm out the doors and that I needed to do a headcount, etc. Well, the Air Force driver and me got everyone rounded up and to the bathroom and on the bus and didn't lose one of them. As we got closer to Boulder they began to shout "Whose going to win? We are we are. Who is going to lose? They are, they are." That evening there was a dance and dinner provided from McDonald's. The kids had a blast. By now, one of the teachers from the school was there and told me to go to Ronald McDonald's bus and knock and the door and say I was a coach. He had a bar in it and we could have a drink. Well, I was too shy to do that which I have always regretted. That night I got all of them them to bed in the dorms and my kids from my class got their meds, I had for them. There were helpers to stay with them for the night and off I went to a dorm room to get some Zzzzzzzzzzzzzz's. Soon there was a knocking on my door. One of the helpers was there saying I had a sick kid. I got dressed and ran to the elevator. Unfortunately it got stuck between floors and I was so worried about my kid. I eventually got back to the floor where I got on and ran up the stairs. When I got there the kid who was sick said he needed his meds. I wasn't given any meds for him and asked him was was wrong. He said his stomach and head hurt. I asked what his mother gave him and he said Anacin. I was relieved and got a couple aspirin for him. The next morning I woke up with tons of people sleeping in the dorm room. I was so tired I didn't hear them come in. That day we walked in the opening ceremonies in our donated green tank tops and my kids started winning medals. It was one of the most wonderful day's I had ever had. Finally we had the closing ceremonies and got this kids on the bus. This time there were teachers as well as myself. It didn't take long to realize I was totally sun burned on face, arms, etc. Worse yet, so were the kids. We really noticed it more when the driver turned on the heater to defog the windows due to a rainstorm. Lucking there was creams, etc. to put on the kids. After we got back to the school I had dinner at the directors house and told them of this adventure and just how wonderful it was. I went to school that following Monday totally sick and burned. When I got there the said I should have stayed home but I was excited to see my kids and so proud of them. And they were so glad to see me as well. You know, I never became a Special Ed teacher but worked with kids for a couple years after I got out of the service. I have had a good job that I worked hard at, a nice car and some good vacations. I built a new home to retire in several years ago but lost that due to financial issues. But, when it comes down to it they were only things and I don't think things were ever the most meaningful to me. It was those chance encounters with people with their kindness I'll always remember, the kids I worked with who I think of often and those GI'S whose patch I crossed with in Vietnam that I never knew but will never forget. To me the most important thing to me is "Did I make a difference?" It has been a constant struggle with me as I fell as such a failure in so many ways and have made so many mistakes. But, did I make a difference? Did I make a difference in any of these kids lives? Did I make a difference at the 24th with all those incoming and wounded GI's? Did I make a difference being with some of them when they died? How can one compare a new car, home, etc. to the overwhelming feeling of joy (or possibly sorrow)when you hopefully touch someones life even if for only a moment. Well, its time to hit the sack and fall asleep thinking of paths that have crossed.

Turning 65

This week has been rather tough with a lot of things going on. And then I turned 65 today and it was a very emotional day for me and I really feel for the VA Social Worker I saw today. Maybe I should have told her it was my birthday and we could have chalked it up to that but I don't think it has anything to do with turning 65. The Nut Dr. I see at the VA asked me several times to read Animal Farm. He says I remind him of Boxer. So I read it a week or so ago and I can understand why. I keep thinking if I only worked harder, loyal and taking care of others. At least that is how I feel. It is hard to get out of the mind frame of if I was better, a better person, a better worker, a better father, provider, soldier, etc. What makes it even more difficult for me is that many times I feel that way based on how someone treats me and can't seem to believe I'm an ok person. I really hide who I am, how I feel, etc. I have always felt lesser of myself with some of that coming from other people and how I believe I have been treated. Maybe that is why I am more accepting of people and really don't care if they are Gay, Lesbian, Hispanic, Black, etc. as it really comes down to they are people and what matters is whether or not they are a good person. I can find myself at ease with these people, sometimes more than people I know. Well, the day is almost done and time to get some Zz's. Sleep has been hard this week and two nights ago I seemed to get bombarded in my sleep from GI's reminding me what I did and it was good but that is for another time.

The Pedro Helicopter

There were two helicopters that really made me nervous when they brought in wounded/causalities. The Loach and the Pedro. I can only remember getting a causality off a Loach once but may times for the Pedro. Working nights when it was completely dark only made it worse. You see, the Pedro (Kaman HH-43 Huski) was short and had two rotor blades inter-meshing together and at an angle (at least while on the ground dropping off wounded. After it landed we*d stand in front of the Pedro with our litter (stretcher) on a gurney. The Pedro would have its spotlight on and it was blinding. Once landed, the pilot would get on his loudspeaker and walk us in to the chopper. He'd say take two steps to the right, a step to the left, etc. until we passed the blades. I could hear them twirling and wind gushing. Then we'd walk to the back of the Pedro and get the wounded off. One that I distinctly remember getting off was a blonde stewardess off (their title back then. The plane carrying GI's into Vietnam had hit turbulence and she was injured. Once we got them on the litter the crew chief would walk us out past the rotors. The crew chief always seemed to have a smile on their face. They probably saw the fear in me caused by those blades. It could be scary as the choppers landed, some damaged, some coming in very fast with casualties, etc. Although scary I didn't really have time to think about it. Getting the wounded and causalities into the ER as soon as possible is what mattered.

The Salute

Veterans can now salute the Flag during the National Anthem, etc. at least according to the VA and laws passed by Congress. Something that I thank should just be considered normal and one that doesn't need a law or an OK to do. Didn't we serve our Country and earn that right? I know there are some sporting events, etc. where veterans are asked to salute during the National Anthem. Well, I was at my grandson's (who we are raising) baseball game. This is a league for children and adults with disabilities and each team has a child or two bring out a flag and the Anthem is played. I finally got up the nerve and saluted the flag at the fourth game. Something I have always wanted to do but have always felt that I was not good enough to have that privilege. After the game my wife asked why I saluted and that I was not in the service. I gave a very very brief response and left it at that. The following week I did the same thing. Later in the day my wife said two men wearing veteran type baseball caps had a lot to say about my salute. They said that it was a disgrace, that I didn't look like a veteran and what right did I have to salute the flag. She said she moved away from them and didn't say anything. I was devastated and hurt and thinking "What right do I have to do that? I spoke with the nut Dr. at the VA the next week and he confirmed it was allowed, OK and that I did deserve that right. The next week I saluted again but carried my dog tags in my pocket. I needed something close to me from the service. The two guys were not there so nothing was said. The last game I again brought dog tags but and the last minute decided not to salute. Sometime after the game my wife brought to my attention that a guy whose son is on our team did not salute and if he was in the service shouldn't he have saluted? It has been so difficult for me as I have always felt the others gave so much in Vietnam and even though I was there I was not worthy. Something I work on all the time with my nut Dr. at the VA. I have always been privately proud of what I did in Vietnam but find it extremely difficult to actually accept and show that pride.