As the Goddesses of Residential Affairs are laughing their respective tiaras off because they think irony is hilarious, I find myself sharing a large house with four men, each of whom at various times are also my patients for coughs, colds, and muscle strains. Nice and respectful guys, certainly. Armed, trained, disciplined and fit, all of this and more when they're out in their duty personae. These are the fellows you want on your side once you leave these thick T walls that encircle us like a massive corral in the U.S Consulate.
But having spent the years since my brothers left for college not in the company of male housemates, as a matter of understatement, I do have some catching up to do on the other than subtle ways of this gender occupies space.
It's not as if men have not made great impact on my life and the way I see the world. I just haven't lived with them. We finished our shifts, or bike rides, or dinner, and went home. Different homes. Three consecutive decades, notably, included the preponderance of men named Jeff. Jeffs that really made a difference. In the 1980's Jeff and I pedalled our bicycles around eastern Europe when it was still the "Communist Bloc" countries. In the '90's a different Jeff was the rural paramedic that had my exposed PA backside as a solo rural ER provider; he later became key to Peacework. Then in the early 2000's, another Jeff cajoled me to invest with him in a medical practice that would allow me have the financial freedom to administer Peacework the way I wanted to. He was right.
But any one of the Jeffs, two of whom are no longer sharing this earthly plane with us, would have enjoyed demystifying this current situation for me. With these housemates, for instance, I can usually tell where any one of them is, and what part of the environment they are stressing, using just any one of my senses. And admittedly, my individual senses are not really all that keen. On the contrary, each of them seems unaware of, well, most everything that involves sensory perception indoors. The duality of their perceptive skills is akin to an on off switch. It seems once they are inside these friendly homey walls, the duty persona of trained and gritty professional degrades to somewhere between Homer (the American, not the Greek) and the Hulk.
Their language often includes entire paragraphs within which not one sentence would have met the criteria for inclusion on the airwaves of 20th century network television, and even by this century's standards, only scattered sentences would make it past censors, and probably not enough to make a sensible delivery of information. Yet, when on duty, I hear them speak on the radio, and the words sound like they could belong to Anderson Cooper at a state dinner. And we know Mr. Cooper is not profane. Not Gloria Vanderbilt's child.
This is also to note that I've moved again. This is correct: no longer in a dry CHU, where 4 others could not possibly be with me, no matter what their habits and behaviors.
I need to update the folded napkin that I keep somewhere in a piece of luggage not checked or misplaced and update
The (***drumroll****)
Movement List 2011-2012:
Sept 5: Deployment Center, Ft Worth, TX
Mid Sept: West VA training
Late Sept Early Oct: Falls Church VAWaiting Period, Best Western Variety
Late Oct; Waiting Period, PHX Home Variety
October 28: Erbil arrival, first U.S. Consulate cubby living space
Early Nov: Second Consulate room above the clinic
Late Nov: back t the U.S. for mom's memorial service
Thanksgiving Day: Move to the desert Diplomatic Security Compound and first dry CHU; a 200 acre desert site, former forward operating base
Mid Dec: Slept in my office for 10 days. Long story unfit for this space; Santa did not find me.
Late Dec: Moved into a different dry CHU
Dec 30: temporarily back to the U.S. Consulate, a 1;5 acre site
Of Course it's Temporary. Eleven moves in 16 weeks would suggest a guaranteed absence of permanence wherever I've had breakfast. The first thing I'll do when I return in March after having a break in the US is move into yet another different CHU at the Dip Security location. However, I've only actually worked in two places: the Consulate and the Diplomatic Security Compound, so that at least has provided some stability during the packing and unpacking of things. And the basic anatomy and physiology of humankind hasn't changed while I was waiting for my bags to offload. So I'm good.
I've become familiar with my patient population, and the way things work and sometimes don't work here. If you've ever familiarized yourself with a workplace, it takes at least a few days to first learn the standard operational procedures during official orientation, then a few weeks to realize the substandard operational procedures that collectively function for a place in real time, then the next couple of months figuring out how to survive without making the gap between the two any wider. Finally, if you're lucky, you may have the chance to narrow the gap to make a more workable standard all around. I'm evolving into the latter phase currently, which has little to do with who is leaving breakfast dishes in the sink in my current homey homeplace and more to do with where the medevac helicopters are parked. And if the fueling site has quality fuel for them.
With the military departing, the opportunity for the aforementioned gap to widen is tremendous. With tensions in the country being what they are, we don't want that gap to be a place we are looking way up from wondering what just happened. SO we have our work to do here to prepare for and avoid disaster. It's not just treating upper respiratory symptoms, although that may feel like your personal disaster when you awaken with a pounding head and dry cough.
That's definitely a part of my job that I break away from to package the decongestants when when I look up from what I'm doing. It's not as if our guys can run out to the local pharmacy and stock their med cabinet; they are locked down on this compound and I have a captive set of patients. They only leave to protect a person they are here to protect, not to run errands. We all share the same airborne germs more or less too.
The URIs will pass with tincture of time, according to my clinical instructor in 1992. She knew what she was talking about. A bit more time sensitive, however, here and now is our ability to respond to a mass casualty attack or to an industrial accident of any magnitude. We talk, we plan, we package gear, we train, we review the helicopters and ambulances, and we live together and have every plan to continue this way unchanged and unscathed.
I think my housemates are happy. What would be a sign? If they are indiscrimimately noisy in ways I did not even know made noise, eating well according to the dishes in the sink, smoking plenty, profanely articulate, choosing to be delightfully polite to me, whom they cheerfully call "Doc"?
Is this a good gauge to go on with the male housemates? I'm enjoying them, honestly. What a novelty; it's like a crackerjack reach -inside -whatchagot just to go outside my door. I've never lived with my patients either, although we used to joke about taking certain ER patients home. Never lived in an armed frat house, never made a mass casualty plan that included everybody I know and nobody I didn't, and never really knew I would never go barefoot ever for any reason in a house until now.
What a unique personal opportunity as this country continues to argue itself into new unworkable corners. Sadly, the corners include sectarian violence as witnessed by the hundred people already killed in Baghad since the new year. It could also include a possible attempt at independence by this region, Kurdistan, with unknown consequences from the southern Iraquis. It is less and less likely to include a coalition government of the sects working together that had been the attempt of the US backed effort, and crumbled almost instantly upon the US departure.
Meanwhile, in another hemishphere just half a world away: Today is the second anniversary of the earthquake in Haiti. Je me souviens. I hope you'll remember the resilience of the survivors and the strength and love so many of you have shown to help ever since that day that life changed forever.
Since the moment the dust settled, the wounded and refugees needed homes, the orphans needed feeding, and by October the cholera patients needed care. Peacework Medical and all of you generous donors and volunteers have never quit.
We're going back again in July to Ranquitte, which is Peacework's home. We have 4 spots left for 2 docs and 2 PAs:
http://www.peaceworkmedical.com/ mesi mes amis, je t'aime toujours pb
But having spent the years since my brothers left for college not in the company of male housemates, as a matter of understatement, I do have some catching up to do on the other than subtle ways of this gender occupies space.
It's not as if men have not made great impact on my life and the way I see the world. I just haven't lived with them. We finished our shifts, or bike rides, or dinner, and went home. Different homes. Three consecutive decades, notably, included the preponderance of men named Jeff. Jeffs that really made a difference. In the 1980's Jeff and I pedalled our bicycles around eastern Europe when it was still the "Communist Bloc" countries. In the '90's a different Jeff was the rural paramedic that had my exposed PA backside as a solo rural ER provider; he later became key to Peacework. Then in the early 2000's, another Jeff cajoled me to invest with him in a medical practice that would allow me have the financial freedom to administer Peacework the way I wanted to. He was right.
But any one of the Jeffs, two of whom are no longer sharing this earthly plane with us, would have enjoyed demystifying this current situation for me. With these housemates, for instance, I can usually tell where any one of them is, and what part of the environment they are stressing, using just any one of my senses. And admittedly, my individual senses are not really all that keen. On the contrary, each of them seems unaware of, well, most everything that involves sensory perception indoors. The duality of their perceptive skills is akin to an on off switch. It seems once they are inside these friendly homey walls, the duty persona of trained and gritty professional degrades to somewhere between Homer (the American, not the Greek) and the Hulk.
Their language often includes entire paragraphs within which not one sentence would have met the criteria for inclusion on the airwaves of 20th century network television, and even by this century's standards, only scattered sentences would make it past censors, and probably not enough to make a sensible delivery of information. Yet, when on duty, I hear them speak on the radio, and the words sound like they could belong to Anderson Cooper at a state dinner. And we know Mr. Cooper is not profane. Not Gloria Vanderbilt's child.
This is also to note that I've moved again. This is correct: no longer in a dry CHU, where 4 others could not possibly be with me, no matter what their habits and behaviors.
I need to update the folded napkin that I keep somewhere in a piece of luggage not checked or misplaced and update
The (***drumroll****)
Movement List 2011-2012:
Sept 5: Deployment Center, Ft Worth, TX
Mid Sept: West VA training
Late Sept Early Oct: Falls Church VAWaiting Period, Best Western Variety
Late Oct; Waiting Period, PHX Home Variety
October 28: Erbil arrival, first U.S. Consulate cubby living space
Early Nov: Second Consulate room above the clinic
Late Nov: back t the U.S. for mom's memorial service
Thanksgiving Day: Move to the desert Diplomatic Security Compound and first dry CHU; a 200 acre desert site, former forward operating base
Mid Dec: Slept in my office for 10 days. Long story unfit for this space; Santa did not find me.
Late Dec: Moved into a different dry CHU
Dec 30: temporarily back to the U.S. Consulate, a 1;5 acre site
Of Course it's Temporary. Eleven moves in 16 weeks would suggest a guaranteed absence of permanence wherever I've had breakfast. The first thing I'll do when I return in March after having a break in the US is move into yet another different CHU at the Dip Security location. However, I've only actually worked in two places: the Consulate and the Diplomatic Security Compound, so that at least has provided some stability during the packing and unpacking of things. And the basic anatomy and physiology of humankind hasn't changed while I was waiting for my bags to offload. So I'm good.
I've become familiar with my patient population, and the way things work and sometimes don't work here. If you've ever familiarized yourself with a workplace, it takes at least a few days to first learn the standard operational procedures during official orientation, then a few weeks to realize the substandard operational procedures that collectively function for a place in real time, then the next couple of months figuring out how to survive without making the gap between the two any wider. Finally, if you're lucky, you may have the chance to narrow the gap to make a more workable standard all around. I'm evolving into the latter phase currently, which has little to do with who is leaving breakfast dishes in the sink in my current homey homeplace and more to do with where the medevac helicopters are parked. And if the fueling site has quality fuel for them.
With the military departing, the opportunity for the aforementioned gap to widen is tremendous. With tensions in the country being what they are, we don't want that gap to be a place we are looking way up from wondering what just happened. SO we have our work to do here to prepare for and avoid disaster. It's not just treating upper respiratory symptoms, although that may feel like your personal disaster when you awaken with a pounding head and dry cough.
That's definitely a part of my job that I break away from to package the decongestants when when I look up from what I'm doing. It's not as if our guys can run out to the local pharmacy and stock their med cabinet; they are locked down on this compound and I have a captive set of patients. They only leave to protect a person they are here to protect, not to run errands. We all share the same airborne germs more or less too.
The URIs will pass with tincture of time, according to my clinical instructor in 1992. She knew what she was talking about. A bit more time sensitive, however, here and now is our ability to respond to a mass casualty attack or to an industrial accident of any magnitude. We talk, we plan, we package gear, we train, we review the helicopters and ambulances, and we live together and have every plan to continue this way unchanged and unscathed.
I think my housemates are happy. What would be a sign? If they are indiscrimimately noisy in ways I did not even know made noise, eating well according to the dishes in the sink, smoking plenty, profanely articulate, choosing to be delightfully polite to me, whom they cheerfully call "Doc"?
Is this a good gauge to go on with the male housemates? I'm enjoying them, honestly. What a novelty; it's like a crackerjack reach -inside -whatchagot just to go outside my door. I've never lived with my patients either, although we used to joke about taking certain ER patients home. Never lived in an armed frat house, never made a mass casualty plan that included everybody I know and nobody I didn't, and never really knew I would never go barefoot ever for any reason in a house until now.
What a unique personal opportunity as this country continues to argue itself into new unworkable corners. Sadly, the corners include sectarian violence as witnessed by the hundred people already killed in Baghad since the new year. It could also include a possible attempt at independence by this region, Kurdistan, with unknown consequences from the southern Iraquis. It is less and less likely to include a coalition government of the sects working together that had been the attempt of the US backed effort, and crumbled almost instantly upon the US departure.
Meanwhile, in another hemishphere just half a world away: Today is the second anniversary of the earthquake in Haiti. Je me souviens. I hope you'll remember the resilience of the survivors and the strength and love so many of you have shown to help ever since that day that life changed forever.
Since the moment the dust settled, the wounded and refugees needed homes, the orphans needed feeding, and by October the cholera patients needed care. Peacework Medical and all of you generous donors and volunteers have never quit.
We're going back again in July to Ranquitte, which is Peacework's home. We have 4 spots left for 2 docs and 2 PAs:
http://www.peaceworkmedical.com/ mesi mes amis, je t'aime toujours pb
Sorry Pam, by nature most of my gender is loud, profane, indifferent to odors... well, fill in your vice/character flaw/disgusting habit and it probably applies to a sizable percentage of us.
ReplyDeleteNo apologies, Muchacho. Good to hear from the Jeff still making earthly contact...pb
ReplyDelete