Day 175: The Rest of the Story

When I was a kid I remember my Dad reading to us from a book written by Paul Harvey called The Rest of the Story. It recounts true but little known stories of well known people such as Albert Einstein, Benjamin Franklin, Charles Lindberg and Stevie Wonder. I was always amazed at the things you could learn about someone or something that you thought you already knew pretty well. If you’ve never read it, I highly recommend it as an easy and interesting read.

Well last time I wrote, I told a story...but I didn’t tell the whole story. Here is the rest of the story...

As you recall, on Day 172, I taught my students to put in IV’s and then I let them practice on me. What I didn’t tell you was that before I “donated my arm to science” I actually practiced on them first. That’s right, Mr. Doctor from America was asked to show his students how it was done. So I took an IV catheter, isolated a vein, and went for it. Not only did I miss the first time but after deciding to try again, I missed again. After the second miss, one of my students motioned for me to sit down and then he of course stuck the IV in my arm on his first try. So much for my $200,000 medical education and my pride. Actually, I didn’t feel too bad, given that I have only put in about 10 IV’s my whole career. I was proud of my students for doing better than I did.

So I can’t put in an IV. That doesn’t make me a bad doctor does it? Now if I was an anesthesiologist and failed to place an IV on an Afghan with bulging veins, that might be a different story. Hey what can I say, it’s not what I do every day...but if you need a circumcision or a mole removed, give me a call and I think you will be impressed.

Anyway, today I returned to the classroom to continue teaching my police students. I had them practice placing IV’s on each other. They did pretty well, but it definitely wasn’t the place for someone who can’t stand the sight of blood. The first guy that had one put in, must have lost a liter of blood (slight exaggeration). The picture below shows the mess after it was almost cleaned up. Imagine double the amount of blood you see on the ground on the table and the guy’s entire forearm covered. Yes it was bloody, but at least he got it in the vein. It is neat to see these guys learning some basic medical skills that down the road might save their life or that of one of their colleagues.

Day 172: Donating My Body to Science

During the first year of medical school, med students are introduced to their first patient. This patient is always on time, doesn’t burden you with questions, and never gets upset if you make a mistake. The only down side to this patient is their stench...no not B.O. or even bad breath, but rather the smell of formaldehyde. That’s right your first patient is typically your cadaver in the anatomy lab.

Many people donate their bodies to the cause of science. I think it is a noble thing to sacrifice the only thing you have left when you die...your body...in order to help others learn and further scientific knowledge. I am an organ donor but I doubt that I ever will take that ultimate step and donate my whole body when I die to research. However, today I sacrificed my arm to the cause of science by turning it over to my Afghan first aid students. I have been teaching them how to place an IV. I realized that the only way to find out if I really taught them well was to let them practice and place an IV in me. So I gave them the needle, closed my eyes, and hoped for the best. To my surprise they got me on the first poke. Sure there was some blood spilling down my arm and they forgot to put on gloves, but, they successfully put in the IV on the first try. I was proud of them and as you can tell from the picture, they were pretty proud of themselves as well.

Day 171: Ouch!

Can anyone figure out what is wrong with this guy’s shoulder? Look carefully at its shape.


This police recruit has a dislocated shoulder. What makes his story amazing is that it was dislocated over 4 months ago and he is just now coming to medical to get it evaluated. He has been here in Herat for 2 months training. He can barely move his arm and when he does the pain is intense. Anyone who has had a dislocated shoulder knows what a painful injury this is. I am not sure if I am impressed more with his pain tolerance or with his stupidity in waiting months to seek help with his problem.

We tried to reduce the shoulder and put it back in place. However, after months of being out of place, the surrounding muscles were tight and we ultimately had to send him to the hospital for further treatment. Again, another interesting patient and something you will never see in the States.

Day 169: Practicing Medicine Without a License

I’m spending the next 2 weeks at a police training facility in Herat. I spend the morning seeing patients with an Afghan doctor in his clinic and spend the afternoon teaching a first aid class to the police students. It is a nice break to leave Camp Stone and have a change of scenery for a few days.

This morning we saw an 18 year old kid who was complaining of headaches and eye pain. He was hit in the right eye 6 years ago and since has had difficulty seeing out of it. Since arriving a month ago for training, his vision has affected his ability to train and consequently he was sent to the public hospital for evaluation and treatment. Rather than go to the hospital, he told me that he had just gone to the local pharmacy and bought some medications for his eye. Now here in Afghanistan you don’t need a prescription for medication. You just go in, tell them what’s wrong, and they give you something to “make it better”. So this kid had gone into the pharmacy 3-4 times and each time was given a different medication. He was given antibiotics, steroids, and finally at his last visit was given atropine--a medication that dilates the pupil. Notice how large his right pupil is compared to his left in the picture. Over the last few days he has been using atropine eye drops which has dilated his pupil and which has caused him light sensitivity and headache.

I quickly told him to stop everything he is using and sent him to officially see the eye doctor. He probably has corneal scaring (this is the white you see over the pupil) caused by his injury 6 years ago. Regardless, all of the medications he was given was hurting him more than helping him. Experiences like this remind me of why we require people to have a prescription prior to buying potentially dangerous medications. Just randomly putting medications into your body, especially in your eye, without knowing what it is, is probably not a very good idea.

Day 168: What's in the Camel's Hump?

Lately, I have seen a lot of camels during my journeyings around Herat. A few hours south of Herat there is a “herd” (bonus points for whoever can tell me what a group of camels is called) of camels that we always pass on our way down there.

So when I was a kid I remember hearing that the hump of a camel was filled with water. It made sense. After all, camels are always in the desert and never have much water to drink. There must be some water in that hump of theirs. So how much water can be held in an average sized camel hump?

The answer is...none. Actually camel’s humps really are full of fat and have no water at all. When they aren’t able to eat they burn the fat and use it for energy. Fascinating, I know--just the reason you keep turning back to this blog for entertainment (or a cure for insomnia).

Day 166: Sleeping Under the Stars

Last night I was laying on a cot underneath the clear Afghan sky, watching the stars high in the heavens. I saw shooting stars. I saw satellites move across the sky. I was amazed at how many stars I could see and how bright they appeared.

It was part of my first real camp out of this deployment. I had been asked to join a group going down to a village four hours south of Herat called Bala Baluk. The FOB (forward operating base) is very small and lacks many of the luxuries of some of the larger bases--such as Camp Stone where I live. There was no cable TV. There was no internet. There was no dining facility. There was a bathroom, but after walking in, you wished there hadn’t been one. I realized how lucky I am to spend most of my time on bases where I have some things that make home seem not quite so far away. My gratitude for some of our guys who spend their whole deployment “camping” definitely increased.

Anyway, my favorite part of the whole experience was being able to fall sleep under the beautiful, star filled Afghan sky. Once it got dark, I just laid down in my sleeping bag and watched as the stars slowly came out and eventually filled the sky. I listened as the “azaan” from a neighboring mosque called the faithful to pray. I reflected on the greatness and enormity of God’s creations. I was awed by how small we really are, but strengthened to know how great we are in His eyes. I thought of my wife and kids back home and how much I love and miss them.

After these special minutes of meditation and inspiration...I crashed back to planet Earth as the snoring began all around me and the cold started to settle in. I crawled into my bag, pulled the hood over my head, and went to bed.

It was a fun camping trip...especially, since I knew I was coming home today.

Day 165: Habla Espanol?

I served my LDS Church mission in Rosario, Argentina. I remember vividly those first few days in the country--the excitement, the exhaustion, the confusion. The exhaustion and confusion was mostly from the overwhelming amount of Spanish that was thrown at me. I was sent down to a little city called Venado Tuerto and given an Argentine companion. He was a great companion but he really spoke no English. Now I had been speaking “Spanish” for 2 months at the missionary training center. However, those who have served a Spanish speaking mission realize that there is a big difference between he “Spanglish” spoken among missionaries in the MTC and the “Castellano” spoken by native Argentines.

I was lost for quite awhile. It was frustrating initially, but slowly I started to get it. After several months I could get by. After a year I was pretty much fluent. After 2 years, there were many who thought I sounded nearly like a native Argentine.

Since returning home from my mission over ten years ago, my Spanish skills have slowly diminished. I find it harder and harder to say exactly what I am trying to say. The tongue gets tied more easily and my ears can’t always keep up with what they are hearing. However, I have been grateful many times for the language skills I obtained on my mission. There have been many times I have used these skills...from encounters with patients...to talking to my Southern Californian neighbors...to selling a car.

What little remaining Spanish skills I have left came in handy today as I went over to the airport to check out the Spanish hospital in Herat. The Spanish run the largest hospital in the region. Any Coalition casualties, including Americans, are sent here for initial treatment and triage. Consequently, I wanted to check the place out and see exactly what capabilities and facilities they had. It was nice to be able to walk into the hospital, introduce myself, and go on a tour of the facility, and do it all in Spanish. I am grateful that even though my Spanish isn’t perfect, I can still use it to help me get around. Now if only I could speak Dari as well as Spanish.


Here is the Spanish hospital from the outside.


This is a close up of the mud-huts that people live in here.


The walls are about 2 feet thick.

There were several monuments to fallen soldiers on the base. Here is a Spanish one.




And another Spanish one.


Finally, an Italian monument...it is some kind of engine part.

Day 164: Election Day

How does a seven-year old view today’s election? Here is Abbie’s perspective that she shared with me this morning over the phone:

Abbie: “Dad, who are you going to vote for?”
Me: “Oh, I don’t know. Who are you going to vote for?”
Abbie: “I voted for McCain.”
Me: “Why, McCain?”
Abbie: “Because ‘Rock’ Obama is going to make taxes bigger, and he is, uh, like, going to make the rich poorer.”

Wait, I thought, is my little seven-year old girl really talking about taxes and the economy? She seems a little young for that kind of insight. I was impressed.

Our conversation continued:

Me: “Did you guys get to vote in school?”
Abbie: “Yea. At first I was going to vote for ‘Rock’ Obama. The whole reason I was going to choose Obama was, uh like, he likes to cook...like I do. Plus, he likes to play basketball and jogging...and I like those things too...and his birthday is closer to Ellie’s.”
Me: “Oh” I said, while thinking, “now that sounds more like a seven-year old.
Abbie: “But then I decided to vote for McCain.”
Me: “How did you learn all this stuff?”
Abbie: “I read it at school and at home. Also I watched it on a show and Grandma told me.”

It was an entertaining and interesting conversation.

After I finished chuckling and hung up, I thought more about my conversation with Abbie. It made me realize how grateful I am to live in a country where even my seven-year old is learning what it means to vote and make decisions about one’s government. It is such a different world over here in Afghanistan. After years of war and constant power struggles between various warlords, people are now just having the opportunity to vote and have some say in their government. Elections should occur here sometime next year. What a blessing it is to be able to vote for our leaders and to let our voice be heard. Our candidate may not win, but like Abbie, we are all free to think through the issues and the candidates and then cast a ballot for the people and the causes we believe in.

Day 163: Hand Me Downs

I remember as a kid never liking hand-me-downs. My brothers and I would always complain if we ever had to wear something that came from someone else. This especially was a problem as we got a little older. No one liked to wear dirt brown colored, frayed, corduroy bell bottoms, when they could have the latest pair of designer Girbauds (no I never owned a pair of Girbauds).

Well as I have grown-up, my attitude toward hand-me-downs has changed dramatically. No longer are these items to dread, but rather items that keep the kids clothed, entertained, and most importantly save us money. Our friends the Hendry’s were always very kind to us during medical school and passed along many items that helped us get along. We always liked to get “Hendry hand-me-downs” because their junk was better than most peoples good stuff. In fact, I am pretty sure we have a bunch of Hendry stuff still floating around the house (thanks guys).

As I mentioned the other day, a bunch of Navy guys just left Camp Stone. I did all I could to convince them to take me along with them. However, all of my campaigning was for naught and yesterday they drove off into the Herat sunset leaving me behind. It was kind of sad to see them go. However, the one benefit of them leaving was that they left me some hand-me-downs. I acquired a rug, 2 lamps, a small table and a TV. That’s right, now I have cable TV in my own room. Now, I can sit down after a long, hard day and watch the highlights on Sport Center just like the guys back home. I doubt I will watch it much but I’m sure there will be occasions where it will be nice to sit down and unwind.

Actually maybe I spoke too soon. I just flipped through all five of my channels and found that my viewing choices include: The View, Gilligan’s Island, Handy Manny, Sesame Street, and the Wheel of Fortune. Oh well, beggars can’t be choosers, right?



Interestingly, soon after hooking up my TV, I received a letter from Abbie. Her biggest concern is listed below...



So yes Abbie, now I can watch TV.

Day 161: On The Road Again.

It has been nearly 2 weeks since I have gotten off base. Today we went on a short day trip to visit a police headquarters. It was nice to get out.


It had been raining all night and this morning was cold and dark. Just as we were leaving on our trip, the sun came out. It was a pretty scene.


I have some kind of fascination with things that fly. I love watching planes, helicopters, or pretty much anything up above me. So as 2 helicopters zoomed over our convoy, I was excited to get a quick picture of it.


How many people can you fit on a motorcycle? Here you see three. I have seen 5 or 6 at a time. You should see how many people can fit in a car or a bus--it is amazing! I am still trying to get some of those pictures. I will post them once I have them.

Just a few pictures from my trip today. Otherwise, things here are going well. I appreciate hearing from you all and hope you are all doing well.