“Jenn, no biggy; that’s what we do. We take care of each other. I promise to continue to help in whatever ways I can,” he said.
“Thank you” I said.
Our rotator flight was scheduled to leave that night at 2030 hours. We were scheduled to make several stops in Canada, Iceland, Budapest, and The Republic of Georgia, ultimately landing in Manas, Kyrgyzstan where we would likely be for several days until we could get a flight out to Bagram Airfield. Manas is in the Area of Operational Readiness (AOR) and from what I had been told, once we touched ground there, the deployment would officially start.
26 April 2008
After stopping in Newfoundland and Iceland I found myself sitting in the airport in Budapest, Hungary; it’d been a long trip. We had one more scheduled stop in Georgia before Manas. It had been so interesting stopping in several countries. We were there for such short periods of time, but still got a small glimpse of their cultures by having some interactions with the people at the airports. Such a minimal exposure to different cultures gave me new insight into many things and I found myself longing to know more. In Iceland (probably the most barren and desolate-looking place I had ever seen) the people actually still spoke the language of the Vikings! I noted that, at the time, the American dollar was not worth much in any of the places we stopped. I’d found the same thing to be true when Greg and I went to Ireland just prior to my departure, and I discovered the mighty Euro.
Seeing these places made me think of the deployment. Now that I was on my way, parts of me were actually excited. For many years I had dreamed of being able to practice humanitarian medicine and now I had an opportunity to live it. I thought of all the people I would be able to help and I smiled. I was going to make a real difference for these people; what an honor. I knew there would be dangerous parts of it, but I just knew the people I would treat would make it all worth the risk.
27 April 2008
At 0300 hours we finally made it to the last stop before Manas…Georgia. We were on the ground for approximately one and a half hours but were unable to go into the terminal due to security reasons. We were thankful to at least be able to deplane and stretch our legs on the runway while the plane refueled.
It felt surreal as I stood on the tarmac in Georgia, under a large full moon gazing into a sea of the silhouettes of two hundred soldiers and airmen on the verge of entering the war. Some were so young and inexperienced; no more than eighteen years old, while others showed signs of age and experience through their grey hairs and determined eyes. I had to ask myself where in this continuum of knowledge and experience I fell. I was older than most of the young soldiers, and had experience from my eight years of enlisted service, but I felt I was glowing a fluorescent “green” when it came to my understanding of what it took to be an officer and a leader, so much so that it felt eerily similar to how I felt the day I got off the bus at Lackland AFB for my first day of Basic Military Training. I concluded I fit somewhere in the middle.
Seeing such young troops surround me made me reflect on my own life. I joined the Air Force when I was twenty years old in August 2000. I was a sophomore in college at Fort Hays State University in Hays, KS and had come to find myself lost without a passion, a very uncomfortable feeling for someone who thought she had it all figured out. When I went to college, I had a scholarship for broadcasting, with every intention of becoming the next Barbara Walters, but when I started taking the classes I realized very quickly that Barbara and I were just not going to have that connection. The industry was not what I thought it was; therefore, as time went on, I felt increasingly confused, having been so sure about my choice of a major when I graduated from high school.
Disappointment was an understatement. I was now that young person I once felt “sorry” for as the wise and all-knowing eighteen-year-old that I was. Once confident that I had it all figured out, now I had no idea what I wanted to be when I grew up….and I was scared. Around the time of this newly acquired humility I enrolled in a biology course. I had an amazing professor who was passionate about her field, and I quickly came to realize I was falling in love with the study of life and began to feel a sense of hope in finding my new career path. I started to research avenues I could take, and healthcare became the missing puzzle piece.
Around the time of this personal epiphany I met Will, a boy I dated, and our short time together changed my life forever. He was an Air Force brat, and in many conversations he would tell me how he felt I should be an officer in the USAF. I thought that was absolutely ridiculous and I would laugh saying “Yeah! Right! Me? Do you even know who you are talking to? No thank you.”
Again, I obviously knew everything, after all, I was eighteen. Interestingly though, something happened; the more he persisted the more open to the idea I became. I began to see what an opportunity it actually was. Several months later Will and I broke up and I was devastated. I found myself picking up the pieces to my life. I had lost my major. I was brokenhearted and emotionally lost, due to all that I had invested in the relationship. Then, one day of many that I was immersed in feeling sorry for myself, I opened the USAF website, clicked on the link to request more information, and the next thing I knew I was on a bus to basic training in San Antonio, TX. I got selected for a job as an Air Force medic, so after I completed basic training I went through technical school to learn the skills of a nurse assistant and EMT-Basic.
I got my focus back. I was eager to gain as much knowledge as I could from my military experience with plans to finish college and get commissioned as some sort of medical officer. Life was good again. After tech school, I was stationed at Nellis AFB in Las Vegas, Nevada and my first assignment was working on the medical surgical (Med/Surg) floor. I was responsible for all of the not-so-fun tasks like bathing the patients, dressing changes, cleaning bedside commodes, etc. Even doing this work I realized I had a passion for taking care of people. On night shift, once all my duties were complete, instead of sitting at the nurse’s station shooting the breeze, I would often find myself in with the patients listening to their stories when no one else would; I met some of the most amazing individuals whom I would never forget.
My favorite conversations were with the World War II vets. I had a special place in my heart for them due to the fact my grandfather was a 1st Lieutenant in WWII. I always wished I could have heard him describe his experience, but unfortunately he died when I was only nine years old. I remember growing up, my grandmother used to tell me when he came home after being at war for four years, he sat down with her and told her, “You can ask me about it this once, and then we will never talk about it again.” I never understood that as a child.
Time went on and after a year on the Med/Surg floor I was transferred to the Surgery Clinic. While working there I was able to return to school and complete my Associates degree in Allied Health Sciences through the Community College of the Air Force. I had big plans; my feeling of having it all figured out returned, except this time it was “for real”. I decided to finish my Bachelor’s degree in nursing through an Air Force commissioning program that would allow me to go to school full time for the remaining two years of school I had left. After completing my nursing degree, I planned to go on and become a physical therapist. I had the perfect plan and I was well on my way to my goal by working closely with the base education office, my commanders and mentors; their feedback was encouraging. Based on my military awards and GPA I was led to believe I was a shoo-in for the nursing program. I was certain everything was happening the way it was supposed to. My package was submitted, and it became a waiting game.
While I was working in the Surgery clinic I met a Physician Assistant student. Up until that point I had no idea what a PA was. The student explained that PAs were mid-level providers who could evaluate and treat patients in a very similar way to doctors, but a doctor was responsible for being a preceptor for their work. It was a Master’s degree and one of the fastest growing career fields at the time.
As I listened to
him tell me about it, I realized what an amazing way to impact the lives of patients it could be and began to love the idea of it. I could make a much bigger difference for the patients and their families I had grown to love than I could in my current position. I remember telling Greg, “I kind of hope my package gets denied, then maybe I’ll look into this PA thing instead.”
Several weeks later I got the notification I had been waiting for; the board had met, decisions had been made for who was accepted into the nursing program. As I opened my email, I was already celebrating my selection…and then….I saw it….the word that took the wind out of my nursing school sails: Disqualified.
What??! Disqualified? How could that be? I was beyond upset, I was devastated. I just knew I would be accepted. I had looked over my package with a fine-tooth comb. I did everything that was required, and I had exceeded all of the standards. My commanders and supervisors were equally shocked. I could tell they felt horrible for falsely leading such a young airman to believe she was invincible. I went home that day and cried and cried on Greg’s shoulder. I was so upset with God. I felt I was being prevented from doing absolutely what was meant for me to do.
The next day I opened the email again and called the provided contact phone number to find out what had disqualified what everyone thought was the “perfect package.” The reason left me speechless. The base education office didn’t sign my cover letter, so as soon as it made it to the board, it wasn’t even opened. The very first page stopped them from going any further. I couldn’t wrap my head around it. I remember going home that evening, sitting in silence, soaking it in, trying to find the reason, and having a very loud conversation with God about how I felt about the whole thing.
“I don’t understand,” I pleaded, “I felt so sure you were guiding me down this path, for what? Only to fail? I feel like such an idiot. Now I have to face everyone and their disappointment!” I was so embarrassed at my certainty of acceptance. “God, you and I go way back. Surely there is a very important reason for this, right?” The next day I felt reassured that the reason for the circumstances would come to light eventually.
As time passed, I looked more seriously at the idea of being a PA. The more I researched, the more I felt it was worth pursuing. After a year in the Surgery clinic, I was transferred to the Emergency Room, and I loved every minute of it. I had the opportunity to work closely with many doctors and PAs, and was able to hone my skills as an EMT. My love of my patients continued to grow with me through my experiences. While the pace of the ER was much quicker than the Med/Surg floor or the Surgery clinic, I continued to spend time with patients, listening to their stories.
I will never forget one night an elderly man came in with chest pain. He was all alone, and I could tell he was beyond scared. He was lost in a sea of wires, IV tubing, EKGs, the portable x-ray machine, doctors, nurses, and me. Initially, of course, we rushed his bed and got all of the necessary labs, x-rays, and medications on board, and then he was all alone again, waiting for the answer to what was happening to him, which could very well affect the rest of his life. As he waited for what probably seemed like an eternity, he had no other option but to listen to us as we referred to our patients as bed numbers. He happened to be “Bed 2”.
When things calmed down, I found myself drawn to his bedside. I pulled up a stool, held his hand and said, “Sir, don’t worry; everything is going to be ok.” He started talking, and before we knew it we were having an amazing conversation about his time in Japan in World War II. He talked about several of the missions he was on; I listened in amazement at what he had been through.
He came to a point where he just stared off into space, and we sat in silence. He finally spoke again. “You know, kid, I gotta tell you, back then, going into battle knowing damn well what I was facing, having to fire my weapon on someone else and possibly not surviving - that was nothing compared to how scared I am right now.” I wished so much I could take his fear away. I squeezed his hand and began talking to him about meaningless things to get his mind off of the unknown.
Several hours later he was admitted, and as they wheeled him off to the elevator, he grabbed my hand and squeezed. ”Thank you” were the last words he spoke to me. Once he disappeared into the elevator, I never saw him again.
I felt a sense of fulfillment in the Emergency Room; I was growing up, meanwhile still pursuing becoming a PA. I completed the required classes, submitted my package and nervously awaited the results. I was an E-4 with a line number for an E-5, with only three and a half years of military experience; the odds were certainly against me. The average person who was selected at that time had over ten years of military experience, average rank was E-6 and above. I knew despite my grades, military record and my recommendations, it was a long shot. Several months went by and then finally the results were in. I couldn’t bear it! What would the answer be? Would it be another disappointment? Another disqualification? I damn well knew my cover letter was signed, that was for sure!
I could feel my heart beating out of my chest as I opened the email. I scrolled down through what seemed like a never-ending list of eighteen names; and then to my amazement, I saw my name! I was overjoyed with excitement. I couldn’t wait to tell Greg, and that evening when I did he chuckled and said, “Aren’t you glad you didn’t get that cover letter signed last time?” I was informed of my selection in 2004, and my class didn’t start until the following May in 2005.
Over the next year I put on SSgt (E-5) and continued working in the Emergency Room and going to school. In May, 2005 I relocated to San Antonio and began the most intense schooling I had ever experienced. We completed one hundred credit hours that first year. My class census was just over sixty people when we started, by graduation we had lost over half of the students who started with us, due to wash-outs.
Despite the stress, I truly loved what I was learning. The program was called the Interservice Physician Assistant Program (IPAP) and was intended for service members from the Air Force, Army, Navy, and Coast Guard. We all spent the first year together at the campus at Fort Sam Houston for the didactic portion of the program, and the second year we would be sent to various bases to attend our clinical rotations based on our respective branch of service.
I loved my class; we had such a unique melting pot of personalities which made our long days together fun. A couple of my classmates were former Green Beret medics. I remember thinking what an odd sense of humor they had, sure that they really had a few “screws loose”. I had no way to anticipate that in the very near future the Green Berets would bring me to know several men that I still consider brothers to this day.
My world was school for the next two years; I woke up at 0500, studied, and then went to class from 0730 to 1630. I got home and ate a quick dinner, took no more than an hour break and then resumed studying until I went to bed. When I woke in the morning my routine started all over again.
I graduated with my Bachelor’s degree in the spring of 2006 and ironically was assigned back to Nellis AFB for my clinical rotations. It was incredible to come back to the same hospital I worked at as a young medic, now as a PA student interacting with the providers I had known before in such a different way. After completing my year of clinicals, in May, 2007 I received my Master’s Degree in Physician Assistant Studies, and I was commissioned.
During the ceremony I was able to choose who would pin my bars on, and undoubtedly it was Greg. He had sacrificed so much for that day to happen, so of course it was his place. That moment was so special to me. My mother gave me my grandfather’s Lieutenant Bars that he wore in WWII, and as Greg pinned them on, I felt such a connection to my grandfather, knowing he was somewhere smiling down on me. I was twenty-six years old, standing in front of my family and colleagues and officially 1st Lieutenant Jennifer Clark; a moment that was surreal. After the crazy road of disappointment I had been traveling on for so many years, it was hard to believe I’d really accomplished the goal I had set, and I was actually a PA and an of
ficer. I had made it to SSgt as an enlisted medic, and had learned so much from my experiences as an enlisted airman. I was so proud to have been prior enlisted; I vowed that day that I would be the best officer I could be, ensuring I would never lose sight of the importance of what the enlisted members of the military do every day.
I will never forget my first day of seeing patients as an official PA. I was so nervous that I would make a mistake, I was beside myself. I studied my schedule the night before and re-read everything I could possibly find in my textbooks about the diagnoses the patients were scheduled to be seen for. I had to know any and every scenario that could present. Greg and his reassuring hugs and tough love helped carry me through the initial days. He had a great way of telling me to suck it up, put on my big girl panties and get over it! Yet, when I needed his softer side, he was there. How quickly time had passed, so much seemed to happen in my life in a few short years.
Tony nudged my arm. “Hey, Jenn! Let’s go!”
“Huh?” I replied, realizing I had been lost in my memories.
“You ready?” he asked. “They’re calling us to re-board the plane.”
166 Days: My Journey Through The Darkness Page 2