My Memior

            We all have some kind of connection to health and medicine.  We have all been sick, we have all been to the doctors at some point in our lives.  Some of us may have been in the hospital at one point, and most of us have visited a hospital to see a loved one.  We can all tell a tale of at least one vivid memory regarding health and medicine.  I can tell you stories till the cows come home about my medical experiences, but this tale is unlike many others.

            I was sitting patiently, picking through my Army issued MRE (meal ready to eat) for something actually edible and awaiting my turn.  I was nervous.  I was mentally going over everything I had learned in medic school in the last 14 weeks. This was my last obstacle, trauma lanes.   All my hard work had lead up to this.  I had done astonishingly well, and if I didn’t pass this, I wouldn’t be able to claim my place as an honor graduate.  I had to do well.  I had my aid bag; I knew where everything was in it.  I had to.  I had my ever-present M16 rifle by my side.  I was decked out in full battle gear, waiting for my name to be called.

            I had heard stories from those who had gone before me, by nothing could have prepared me for what was about to happen.  The moment I crossed the threshold of those double doors my senses were bombarded.  My ears were filled with booming rock music and instructors yelling.  My eyes darting from student to instructor to mock battle casualty, all set up in 8 little mock battlefield areas.  My mouth instantly dried and I started to sweat.  My heart was pumping; adrenaline was racing through my body.  But that was the point, to stress us out and push us to our limits to try to simulate a real combat situation. 

            At this point my mind was racing.  I see my casualty; I am already mentally evaluating him.  I have two battle buddies with me, and we make our way over to where he’s lying.  I do my quick “care under fire” assessment, my ABC’s. Does he have a working airway?  Yes. Is he breathing?  Yes.  Is his circulation visually compromised?  Yes.  He has no left foot.  This is definitely something that needed to be taken care of before he can be moved.  I grab the tourniquet out of his aid pouch, remembering that one should never use their own tourniquet when avoidable, you never know if you will need it yourself.  I tighten the tourniquet around his leg, two inches about the wound, just like I have practiced countless times.  I mark his forehead with a “T” and the time the tourniquet was placed.  It is now safe to move my casualty, his recovered foot, and all of his gear to cover where I can perform a more detailed assessment.

            Once we are situated in the safe area I begin to assess the casualty further.  I go back through my ABC’s making sure I haven’t missed anything.  At this point I needed to start an IV.  I know it is important to have venous access incase fluids need to be started to replace the blood he’s lost.  I start the IV in one of my battle buddies, because it is important to practice all the skills I’ve learned and manikins aren’t that receptive to needles. 

            Now it was time to do a head-to-toe assessment.  I start at the head, looking and feeling for anything abnormal.  I am looking for bruises, cuts, deformities, blood, burns, swelling.  I am feeling for tenderness, instability, crepitus.  I move down the body, checking the neck for any vein distention or tracheal deviation.  I make my way down the torso, not finding any abnormalities.  I check the arms, I find that the right forearm is unstable, and as I palpate I hear crepitus, the grinding, cracking noise of bone bits rubbing against each other.  I secure his arm with a splint from my aid bag and move on.             

            As I move around his unconscious body I am sure to take my weapon and my aid bag with me.  I know that if they are out of arms reach they are no use to me and my instructor will not hesitate to snatch them from me.  Similarly, he does not hesitate to shout and spray me and my uniform with fake blood as I work quickly to assess my patient. 

            I finally reach the tourniqueted leg and can bandage the exposed stump.  I quickly do so, and know it is time to assess my casualty’s back.  I set up my litter so I only have to turn him once, and my battle buddies leg roll him onto his side.  I quickly check his back for abnormalities and place the litter against him.  We collectively roll him and the litter back to the ground and work to fastened him it.  The litter straps get fastened at his noggin, nipples, navel, and knees.  His gear gets placed on the litter with him, and we ready to carry him out to where he will be evacuated to a hospital. 

            The three of us carry him out to a clearing and set him down.  My last task is to call for evacuation using the 9-line medevac procedure we had been taught.  I give them the pertinent information regarding the casualty and his wounds, and all that’s left to do is wait for the imaginary helicopter to come get my make-believe casualty.  A half hour after I began, some fake blood, real sweat and tears later, I am done.  I have succeeded at my task, and hope that someday when I reach the real battlefield I can be equally successful in saving lives.