It's been a long six years, looking back on things.  40 surgeries.  Learning to walk.  Learning to open and close my hands.  Learning to write.  Learning to check, and recheck, the temperature of everything before I grab it.  Learning how to work a door knob.  Learning my physical limitations, and learning the penalties for ignoring them.  Many, many painful months of rehab.  Narcotics addiction. Becoming a cyborg. 

It's been a long journey, to be sure.  From my position, now, it seems like it wasn't that bad--just something I had do do.  From my position, then, it looked like I was going to have to scale the Himalayas with nothing but a bobbin of thread, a highlighter, and a half-empty bottle of hot sauce.  It seemed, at times, like the odds were insurmountable--and worse, not worth attempting.  I simply didn't have the tools to try.

There's only one way to eat an elephant:  one bite at a time.  But in order to start, you have to have an appetite.

You have to have the desire to start.

There was a time when that desire didn't burn inside me.  A time, albeit brief, when I was without hope... when I took that long hard look at what my future was going to be and couldn't see a happy, or even reasonbly tolerable end.  There was a time when it seeemed like all the good things were behind me.

People wanted to help.  People believed in me enough to stay, to care, to give.  People, some who I'd never met, some who only knew me through these missives on my blog, people who cared enough to help a soldier who had stumbled, if not fallen.  It was through the generosity of these people that I was given a laptop and equipped it with software that would allow me to actually use it, even though my hands were little more than swollen bags of hurt.  I could reach out to my soldiers--I could email them, chat with them, assure them that I was going to be okay, and that they needn't worry about me, and stay focused on the mission.  I could keep blogging--an outlet that I maintain is a phenominal way to let go of emotion and frustration--I could share, I could tell the story of one soldier through his recovery--especially after leaving the hospital.

But it was never about me.  It was about the struggle.  It was a narrative of the trail blazed by others, and followed by many.  My narrative only sought to illuminate the darker parts, highlight the dangerous curves, and tell those who were behind me, looking farther up the trail, what they could expect over the next ridge.

From my bed, and later, from my couch, I was once again leading.  Instead of leading a company of soldiers in combat, I was leading families, friends, fellow wounded, and all manner of caring people throughout the country.  We were taking this journey together--and through it all, I was not alone.  

Right now, in Military medical facilities all across the country, there are servicemembers--Sailors, Marines, Airmen, and Soldiers who are in that exact same place.  They are looking at their bandages and wondering how they will ever do something as simple as tie their shoes, or button their pants.  They are worried that they will be dependent on someone else for the rest of their lives.  Many are wondering how long it will be before they can rejoin their comrades in combat. 

It's a big elephant, when you look at it that way.  It would take me months to be able to tie my shoes.  Putting on a uniform that seemed to be made by someone with stock in the button industry wasn't just a chore--it was something that required help.  But I started taking those bites--one at a time.  I learned to do those things, I gained strength in my hands and legs again.  I learned to manipilate objects. 

So I was eating one bite at a time.  I had an appetite.  An appetite that would never have been stoked, had it not been for the donations of many people across the country who made it possible.  And that elephant has been getting smaller every day.  Through the kindness and generosity of  American citizens, we have been able to provide, free of charge or obligation, computers, voice control software, and rehabilitative technology to thousands of servicemembers who were looking at that elephant and feeling not the slightest bit hungry.  But once they could reconnect with their world, once they could return to doing things they used to, or learned new ways to do things (like how to slide change off a countertop when 1/2 your hand is gone) they got hungry for elephant, and started devouring it.

There are wards full of wounded, right now, that need their lives restored.  They need to be shown that they can still do things they have always done.  They need to know that people care about them and their needs.  They need your help.   Milblogers are trying to raise $100000 in the next two weeks to continue our mission of helping these wounded servicemembers.  100K is a pretty big elephant.  Not to beat a dead horse, but to mix my metaphors, there's only one way I know to eat an elephant.  I don't expect anyone can donate $100K (but if you can...) but everyone can help take a bite--whatever you can give.  Just as importantly, share with your fineds, family, social networks, facebook frineds, that weird stalker from linkedin, your daughter's myspace followers, whoever.  At the top of this page you'll find a link that says "te!! a friend" and gives you ways to share this all over social media, blogs, facebook, twitter, you name it. 

Project VALOur-IT (Voice Activate Laptops for Our Injured Troops) provides computers, voice control software, and rehabilitative technology to our wounded.  It is funded through donations only.  It is part of Soldiers Angels, a 501 c. (3) charity (which means all of your donations are 100% tax deductible) and every red cent of the money you donate goes dierctly to the troops.  None of it pays for overhead or "administrative fees." 

Life is tough.  It's tougher when your crippled.  It's a lot less tough when you're crippled and feel like the people you were defending appreciate the sacrifice.

--Chuck

Labels: Paying the bills, Project Valour-IT, Soldier's Angels, Support the troops and their mission, wounded troops

Brought to you by: Masters in Social Work | MSW@USC

James Downey Jr., who survived the infamous Bataan Death March in 1942 and became an inspiration to his family, died Monday. He was 96 years old.
 
Downey served with the Army's 26^th Cavalry Philippine Scouts, a decorated unit that still rode horses into battle in the early days of World War II. Half-Filipino by birth, his mother was of Philippine and Spanish heritage and his father was from Augusta County, a cavalry officer who fought in the Spanish-American War.
News of his death came from family members.

In 1942, Downey was a young soldier in the prime of life, six years removed from a tryout on the 1936 U.S. Olympic swim team, when Japanese soldiers captured him on April 9.  He was put in line with thousands of other prisoners and ordered to start walking. The rule was simple, he recalled. If you stop, you die.
The forced march to a Japanese POW camp covered 60 miles and lasted five days. For a time, Downey carried his little brother, Robert, who survived the march but ultimately died of sickness.

By some estimates, 11,000 men died.

But his determination in surviving one of the darkest chapters in American military history was not lost on his family.  His son, Gary Downey, said the themes of never giving up and always helping a brother were impressed upon the children at an early age.  "The journey that happened to him on Bataan, it still continues for him," Gary said. 

James Downey retired from the Army in 1963 as a master sergeant.

--See you at the Green, James.

Halfway down the trail to Hell,
In a shady meadow green
Are the Souls of all dead troopers camped,
Near a good old-time canteen.
And this eternal resting place
Is known as Fiddlers' Green.

Marching past, straight through to Hell
The Infantry are seen.
Accompanied by the Engineers,
Artillery and Marines,
For none but the shades of Cavalrymen
Dismount at Fiddlers' Green.

Though some go curving down the trail
To seek a warmer scene.
No trooper ever gets to Hell
Ere he's emptied his canteen.
And so rides back to drink again
With friends at Fiddlers' Green.

And so when man and horse go down
Beneath a saber keen,
Or in a roaring charge of fierce melee
You stop a bullet clean,
And the hostiles come to get your scalp,
Just empty your canteen,
And put your pistol to your head
And go to Fiddlers' Green.

If you were reading this then, you got quite a shock.  If you're reading this for the first time now, you can get some perspective on what a wonderful person I married.  My wife wrote this hours after being notified that I was wounded.  She knew then that this blog was an important thing for me, that I actually had readers (Hi Mom!) and she believed that efforts to show people the real and tangible sacrifices my soldiers made every day were important.

Life can change for anyone in an instant.  You are never ready for that change.  You never expect it, and how you handle that change is the surest marker of your character.  I handled it with lots and lots of drugs.

All below was posted 21 June, 2005.

This is Carren writing to tell Chuck's faithful readers that he has been injured, but is in stable condition. I won't give details for fear of misinformation (and the fact that this can be accessed by millions of people).

In general... Chuck sustained shrapnel wounds to his legs and arms from an IED. He and an Iraqi civilian were the only ones injured. The Good Lord above was looking out for him in a BIG way! He is probably in Landshtul, Germany by now and will be back in the states in the next week to 10 days (as far as I know right now). He still has his eyesight and has not sustained internal injuries that I know of. I have not talked to him yet... they have kept him sedated for his trip to Germany, as well as for pain management. He also has some injuries to his face, but I think it is just bruised/scratched up quite a bit.

On the homefront, we are all hanging in there. I have incredible support from family and friends and I feel very blessed. The fact that Chuck is still alive makes this bearable, all things considered. I hope to hear from him in the next 24-48 hours. I will keep you all posted as often as possible.

I ask your prayers for Chuck... strength, courage, quick recovery, his mental state, etc. For me, I just need strength to get through the unknown road ahead. The hardest part so far was telling our 5 year old son Creighton that his daddy was injured. He has a lot of questions, obviously, and I answer them the best way I know how. He is too smart to lie to, but definitely does not need all the details.

Just so everyone knows, Chuck did not lose his humor in all of this mess... I was told the first thing he asked when he was pulled from the canal (the blast blew him into a canal) was: "Be honest with me, guys. Do I still have my face and my 'package'?" That is sooooo Chuck. Always worried about his "manliness."

That's all I have for now. Please keep him and all of our deployed men and women in your prayers. I never thought my husband was immune to injury, but this was definitely a shock to the whole family.

Take care and God Bless,
Carren (a.k.a. The Mrs.)

Words are inadequate to describe how amazing this Gold Star family is...
Below is a message from our friend, Robert Stokely:
1745 hours May 14, 2005 our family got a last hug and said a final goodbye as we had to leave Ft. Stewart (GA) by 1800 after Mike's departure ceremony.   The last fifteen minutes needed to be for him and his high school sweetheart now 20 year old bride of ten days to say their final goodbyes.  As I got to the car, my family already in, I paused, turned and took one more look.  Mike and Niki were embraced oblivious to anyone else, for many like them were doing the same.  A small still inner voice, one I believe is God's way of talking to me, said "take a good long look, for it is your last."  I wanted to take him with me, hide him away.  But he was a man and even though my son, he now belonged to a country.  He was an American Soldier.  

Via Blackfive.  Now go read the rest.

--Chuck

Implementation of the Planner Burnout Prevention Program
(Air Force versus Army)
1. STOP DENYING.
AIR FORCE VIEW: Listen to the wisdom of your body. Begin to freely admit the stresses and pressures which you have manifested physically, mentally, or emotionally. Meditate even more frequently.
ARMY VIEW: Work until the physical pain forces you into unconsciousness, then you can't hear your body.

2. AVOID ISOLATION.
AIR FORCE VIEW: Don't do everything alone! Develop or renew intimacies with friends and loved ones. Closeness not only brings new insights, but also is anathema to agitation and depression.
ARMY VIEW: Shut your office door and lock it from the inside so no one will distract you. They're just trying to hurt your productivity.

3. CHANGE YOUR CIRCUMSTANCES.
AIR FORCE VIEW: If your job, your relationship, a situation, or a person is dragging you under, try to alter your circumstance, or if necessary, leave.
ARMY VIEW: If you feel something is dragging you down, suppress these thoughts. This is a weakness. Drink more coffee.

4. DIMINISH INTENSITY IN YOUR LIFE.
AIR FORCE VIEW: Pinpoint those areas or aspects which summon up the most concentrated intensity and work toward alleviating that pressure.
ARMY VIEW: Increase intensity. Maximum intensity means maximum productivity. If you find yourself relaxed and with your mind wandering, you are probably having a detrimental effect on the recovery rate.

5. STOP OVERNURTURING.
AIR FORCE VIEW: If you routinely take on other people's problems and responsibilities, learn to gracefully disengage. Try to get some nurturing for yourself.
ARMY VIEW: Always attempt to do everything. You ARE responsible for it all. Perhaps you haven't thoroughly read your job description.

6. LEARN TO SAY "NO".
AIR FORCE VIEW: You'll help diminish intensity by speaking up for yourself. This means refusing additional requests or demands on your time or emotions.
ARMY VIEW: Never say no to anything. It shows weakness. Never put off until tomorrow what you can do at midnight.

7. BEGIN TO BACK OFF AND DETACH.
AIR FORCE VIEW: Learn to delegate, not only at work, but also at home and with friends. In this case, detachment means rescuing yourself for yourself.
ARMY VIEW: Delegating is a sign of weakness. If you want it done right, do it yourself (see #5).

8. REASSESS YOUR VALUES.
AIR FORCE VIEW: Try to sort out the meaningful values from the temporary and fleeting, the essential from the nonessential. You'll conserve energy and time, and begin to feel more centered.
ARMY VIEW: Stop thinking about your own problems. This is selfish. If your values change, we will make an announcement. Until then, if someone calls you and questions your priorities, tell them that you are unable to comment on this and give them the number for PAO. It will be taken care of.

9. LEARN TO PACE YOURSELF.
AIR FORCE VIEW: Try to take life in moderation. You only have so much energy available. Ascertain what is wanted and needed in your life, then begin to balance work with love, pleasure, and relaxation.
ARMY VIEW: A balanced life is a myth perpetuated by liberal arts schools. Don't be a fool: the only thing that matters is work and productivity.

10. TAKE CARE OF YOUR BODY.
AIR FORCE VIEW: Don't skip meals, abuse yourself with rigid diets, disregard your need for sleep, or break the doctor appointments. Take care of yourself nutritionally.
ARMY VIEW: Your body serves your mind, your mind serves the Institute. Push the mind and the body will follow.

11. DIMINISH WORRY AND ANXIETY.
AIR FORCE VIEW: Try to keep superstitious worrying to a minimum - it changes nothing. You'll have a better grip on your situation if you spend less time worrying and more time taking care of your real needs. If necessary, listen to more Barry Manilow!
ARMY VIEW: If you're not worrying about work, you must not be very committed to it. We'll find someone who is.

12. KEEP YOUR SENSE OF HUMOR.
AIR FORCE VIEW: Begin to bring job and happy moments into your life. Very few people suffer burnout when they're having fun.
ARMY VIEW: So, you think your work is funny? We'll discuss this with your commander on Friday, at 1900!

Brian Terry, a Border Patrol Agent, former police officer, and Marine Corps veteran was killed "in a gun battle ... with a gang known as a rip crew that preyed on illegal immigrants and drug smugglers who slip across the U.S.-Mexican border in Arizona."  - source

"Two of the ATF “walked” guns ended up at the murder scene of Border Patrol Agent Brian Terry south of Tucson." - source

"The Department’s leadership allowed the ATF to implement this flawed strategy, fully aware of what was taking place on the ground.  The U.S. Attorney’s Office for the District of Arizona encouraged and supported every single facet of Fast and Furious." - source (PDF)

The mission of the United States Attorney’s Office for the District of Arizona is to:

Represent the United States effectively in Criminal and Civil Cases

Advocate for the rights of victims and support witnesses throughout the criminal justice process

Coordinate the law enforcement efforts of federal, tribal, state and local agencies

Provide the best possible working environment for USAO employees

Enhance and strengthen the communities we serve

Brian Terry’s family statement at ATF Fast and Furious hearing

If I had to choose who was really working to enhance and strengthen the communities they served, my choice would be Brian Terry.  The U.S. Attorney’s Office for the District of Arizona?  Not so much.

Border Patrol Agent Brian A. Terry
End of Watch: Wednesday, December 15, 2010

~~Code Monkey

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