“ I don’t think it’s possible to be a medic in a conflict zone and not have something stay with you. Something that you didn’t have before you went. I have the hardest time forgetting this little girl. She was brought to our post one day. Two men ran toward us carrying a bundle of blankets. And they’re yelling in Pashtu. And at first all I can see are these bloody blankets, but then I peel them back, and there’s this little girl inside. She stepped on a landmine while playing soccer and she’s gone below the knee, gone below the elbow, gone below the hand. And everything is seething. And I can smell the flesh. And she’s screaming. But I’m trained to drown it out. I’m trained so well that I almost don’t hear the screaming. I focus on our interventions. Stop the bleeding. Apply tourniquets. Administer the IV. I overdosed her on morphine. I’ll never forget that. I just kept pushing until the screaming stopped. And then a helicopter came and got her. And she lived. And I was fine throughout the whole thing. I was just like a robot. I’d been trained for chaotic situations. But they don’t train you for the aftermath. They don’t train you for when the helicopter has lifted off, and suddenly everything is quiet.”
“In Afghanistan I spent so much time imagining what it would be like when I came home. I built up this perfect world. I imagined eating a big cheeseburger. And taking the longest shower. And meeting up with all my friends. Maybe we’d even take a trip to the beach just to catch up. And everything would be just like when I left. And people would be so happy to see me. Because they’d be thankful for the sacrifices that I made. But when my plane landed, nobody was there to meet me. My mom couldn’t afford to take off work. My father had died while I was gone. The rest of my family couldn’t afford to travel. One of the first things I did was visit the two friends who had written me letters. The whole time I was in Afghanistan, I only got four letters from two friends. So I had to visit them right away to tell them that those letters meant the world to me. But after those visits, I was pretty much by myself. So I sat in my room and I started thinking. I’d been so busy in Afghanistan. There was always a job to do. But now it was quiet. So I thought about all the things that I’d kept at bay. I thought about the little girl that I saved. And what her life is like now. And I wondered if she’s still alive. And if she is still alive, does she even want to be?”