Category: Military

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Life Changing Event

You will hear a lot of people say that they have had life changing events. Here are a few of the medical life changing events that have totally changed my life for the better

  1. At the age of 8yrso I discovered one day that I was allergic to pollen. My pop made wine every few years and the family would go off onto the local park land and gather Elderberry blossoms by the bushel basket full. It was my job to rub the blossoms over a large screen covering a 20 gal crock. I had done my job and went to the subdivision next door to see some childhood friends. I remember, vividly sitting on the curb, rubbing my eyes. Before long, my eyes were swollen shut and I had to wander back home in total disbelief of what was happening in my body. Little Jimmy endured the testing; scratches on my back and arms to determine all the things I was allergic to, which were, pollen, animal dander, grass, just about everything in my surroundings. I couldn’t sleep on my back or sides for days after each of multiple tests. And then, I spent every summer and fall, traumatically enduring my eyes weeping and red, my nose constantly running, and red, and my mind not able to focus on much else other than the torment. Well, smart, adaptive Jimmy dealt with it until age 30. While living in Canada, I learned that I could go through a three-year program to desensitize my body to the antigen and stop making histamines. It was a total commitment to going to a doctors office, without missing one appointment from start to finish, every day for a month, every week for over a year, then every month for nearly a year. I had to restart after 5 weeks when I moved to Kingston to attend Queen’s University. After the first year, I was symptom-free, yet had to continue to attend for a shot regularly. Suffice it to say, that endurance changed my life on a significant basis. Least of all being able to avoid antihistamines circling my body for 4-5 months every year, causing drowsiness, total brain voids that had huge impacts on my performance in school and work.
  2. In 1997 I was diagnosed with a ruptured disc in my cervical spine. It turned out to be two adjoining discs. The pain I endured until it was diagnosed was excruciating. I would take Percocet every four hours just to take the edge off the pain. It never went away until I woke up from a five and a half hour microsurgery procedure. Without the medical intervention, my life would be unbelievably different today. Here are some X-rays of the titanium plate with four screws. They took bone from my hip to put plugs in between the vertebra.

After four weeks, the surgeon could not find the seams around the plugs because it had healed faster that he had seen in 40 years of practice. I am convinced that taking Nutrilite and other vitamins before and after surgery made a huge difference.

The third event involves Hep C. As a cardiovascular pump tech, I would be covered in blood after each open heart surgery. It was my job to clean the pump as well as technically run it. There was a drain in the floor of the clean room near the OR. I would simply empty gallons of blood onto the floor and wash it down the drain. I never used any protection as in those days, we worried about giving something to a patient, not what they could give to us. Being exposed to that much foreign blood and not protecting myself led to me picking up the Hep C virus. It was years later in Canada that I learned that I had Hep C by being turned down to donate blood, which I had done to the 25-gallon level by that time. Who knows how many people got my infection. And then, I lived with the knowledge that I could be stricken at any moment with an irreversible liver disease. The cost of the meds is pushing $80,000. Thanks to months of follow up with the VA, I got it covered, and expect to be 100% free of the Hep C virus in a matter of weeks. Simply amazing. I love science.Me, last night with the bottle of Harvoni pills that will rid my body of the Hep C virus. I love science!

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Impact My Life

Kids; There are many times in our lives that have meaning that can only be realized years later. Gary Bolstad is one of those people who may have little to no realization of just how important he was in my life.

It all started one summer night in downtown Berlin, Germany in 1968. I was getting off a bus near my Kudam apartment when I spotted a hitchhiker with a guitar case in one hand and his thumb pointing towards traffic. I noticed that he had a small American flag on the shoulder of his jean jacket. His hair was long, which signaled that he was not military.  I found myself blurting out; hey, are you an American, living in Berlin. He quickly chirped, Ya! Without much thought, I said will you teach me how to play guitar? He said sure.

I invited him to my small, efficiency apt and we began a relationship that has spanned nearly 45 years. Gary, and later, his to-be wife, Kristie, came into my life at a most impressionable place and time. I was living in a foreign country for the first time in my life. By being in the military meant that I was experimenting and experiencing everything twice, just to make sure.

Gary helped me buy my first guitar in Berlin. He simultaneously helped me create an interest in photography. I bought my first Pentax in Berlin, cost $132 in 1969. The military base had a darkroom lab. I would go there many times to learn darkroom techniques from a very interesting Berliner who had been separated from his mother when the wall was erected.

When I moved from Virginia back to Ohio, Gary introduced me to Ralph Leesburg. Ralph, Gary, and I have remained long distant friends for many years.

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Berlin Wall Came Down 25 Yrs Ago

I was stationed in Berlin for over two years. I was there to protect the freedom of Berlin.

While in Berlin, I began taking pictures, after being influenced by Gary Bolstad, who was, and is, quite a magnificent photography buff. Black & White film was all I could afford to develop in the military facility darkroom. I came upon the remnants of a fire in a downtown night club. It took quite some time in the dark room to get the large photograph to get the exact exposure to bring it alive. I liked this photo. The next was taken in a park in downtown Berlin. I watched a father and son spend some time together and took some shots. The father noticed and ask if I could sell him copies. I gave him three shots of him and his son. I thought this was rather pensive.

 

This picture was taken in E.Berlin in a back street.

 

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Berlin Germany

The world can be an awesome place to experience.  I recommend that you learn to travel as early as possible and never give up on experiencing someplace new as often as possible. The things you will learn will stay with you forever.

My Christmas 1968 was spent getting ready to ship out to Germany over  New Year’s Eve. That was the reason I joined the Army, (drafted really), to see the world!  I was really excited, scared, full of wonderment and solo in the world.  If it was to be, it was up to me.

We flew from Washington, DC to New Jersey and then on my first flight across the Atlantic.  Imagine, over a hundred, lonely, horny soldiers on an overnight flight with the oldest stewardesses in the world, who would take no shit from loud-mouthed crazies full of testosterone.

When we arrived in Shannon, Ireland for a stopover to Frankfurt, I headed for the can.  To my amazement, there was a woman tending the men’s bathroom.  Well, not having used a facility with a woman standing within sight of the urinal, I found my bladder unwilling to function under the watchful eye of a matronly observer.  Try as I might, I could not go.  Finally, out of total embarrassment and frustration, I kind of made a sound like I was going, accepted the towel after washing my hands, dropped some US change on the offertory plate at the door and left, still feeling a need to service.

When I arrived in Frankfurt it was New Year’s Eve and snowing.  We were housed in temporary barracks that had a quadrangle in the middle of four buildings.  We lined up in the quadrangle and left our duffle bags in rows.  We were told to leave them in perfectly aligned order and retreat indoors from the cold.

We were told that we could sign out bedding on which to sleep but would have to return them to the supply room at 4 AM. Nobody wanted to get up that early to then do nothing for hours, so nobody slept on mattresses with blankets that New Year’s Eve. I curled up in my heavy trench coat on bunk bed springs and tried to stay warm. I could see through a small broken pain of glass, out of the building, and across the street to a bar where couples were wandering in and out all night. They were speaking a language I did not understand. I felt alone, somewhat vulnerable, yet so excited for all the adventures I would experience. That was my New Years Eve 1968.

The next morning we had to find our duffle bags under 6 inches of snow. I finally got my orders approved to travel behind the Iron Curtain to Berlin. We rode all night that night and arrived in Berlin the next morning. Somehow I managed to get to the 279th Station Hospital, Berlin safe and sound. What happened next will amuse me for my whole life.

I was assigned to a barracks room in an old German Psychiatric Hospital in the American sector of Berlin. Beautiful old ornate red brick buildings with a 10-foot high wall surrounding the compound. The compound included a large grassy area at one end, which included a bar at the opposite end from the hospital, which I came to know all too well. The beer was 10 cents, a shot was 25 cents, cigarettes were a dollar a carton of ten packs.

When I opened the door to my room, I immediately noticed that the ceiling was painted black, with white silhouettes of stars and half moons at awkward intervals. It was a foreshadowing of what was to come. I unpacked enough to head to a much-needed shower.

When I opened the door to the shower room, I stood there in disbelief facing a beautiful naked girl in the shower. I questioned in my mind whether WACS were also in the same barracks. When I started to leave, she said it’s ok to stay and shower. I ask her how come she was in the shower. She responded that she was living with her American GI boyfriend in the barracks. Welcome to Berlin’s 279th Station Hospital. It turned out to be just like a MASH crazy unit with little discipline or military structure. That was the start of a year and a half tour that was an amazing adventure.

A nighttime picture of Checkpoint Charlie in Berlin between the US quadrant and the Russian quadrant.

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Army Induction

In  February 1967 I received the dreaded yellow draft notice from the US government requiring me to report for a draft physical in March.  I was about to turn 19 years old. Take a moment to remember who you were at that age, your beliefs, hopes, and dreams and all the things you held important in your life.

My brother, Mike, instructed me to immediately go to the Army recruitment office and request a written guarantee for the training school of my choice. He felt that was my best chance of staying off the front lines in Nam.  The reason being that I had spent the last two years of high school working at night at St. Thomas Catholic Hospital as an orderly.  He knew that if I allowed myself to be drafted without a school, I would be shuffled off to medic training and sent to the front lines with a red cross on the front of my helmet for target practice by Charlie. Their procedure was to shoot the Second Lieutenant, or whoever was in command by their insignia, then the radioman so he could not radio for help, then the medic so he couldn’t patch up the first two. The life expectancy of a medic in a firefight was about 30 seconds.

So off I went to the recruitment office. The Sargent was elated when I told him I was there to enlist because I wanted to go to Vietnam to help save Vietnam from the Vietnamese. He said, “You are our man, sign right here”.  I told him I wanted to get a written guarantee for the training school of my choice.  He said, I didn’t need that, just sign here and I would get the training of my choice afterward – crock!

Reluctantly, he provided the largest bound book I had ever seen, listing pages of job training schools for the entire military.  I carefully perused it looking for job descriptions that would allow me to use my previous medical training while keeping me from the front lines with a target on my head.

I applied for such schools as x-ray-technician, lab technician, and one called social work/psychology specialist. I had no clue what it really meant, but figured it would keep me off the front lines, unless I found myself jumping out of a plane with some gun-ho Airborne-all-the-way Green Beret/Special Forces guy, asking him on the way down, “just what happened during your early-childhood that made you want to jump out of a plane that you know damn well is going to land”.

In early May, I received a call from the recruiting officer that my written guarantee was in and to report for enlistment. When I arrived he handed me a piece of paper with Accepted for the school for Social Work/Psychology Specialist.  It seemed pretty safe at the time since I didn’t have much choice left with having to report for my draft physical in a couple of weeks. I signed on the dotted line.

I then asked him what I was supposed to do about the physical in Cleveland coming up? He turned beet red as he said, you bastard, I could have had you before if you had told me that.  He was furious that I had enlisted for three years instead of the mandatory two years by being drafted. Go figure. So he says, just report for your physical and show them this enlistment notice.

When I arrived in Cleveland for my draft physical, I had an eye-opener. First, I found out I am color blind. They stood me on a line and told me to cover one eye and tell them the number appearing on the screen. All I saw was colored dots and no number. When I told the medic I didn’t see any number, he said 17, cover your other eye and tell me the number you see. Again, I said there was no number. He said 7, pass, next! In other words, color blindness did not keep one out of the Army.

After peeing in a bottle, having a guy grab my balls and ordering me to cough, and being totally stripped of my identity, shades of things to come, I watched as hundreds of guys who had arrived there that day, not knowing what was going to happen, being told; you are Navy, step over there, You are Marine, step over there, You are Army, step over there and You are Airforce, step over there. They had no idea they were being shipped out that day from there without time to say goodbye to family and sweethearts. Reality can be harsh!

I, on the other hand, showed them my enlistment papers and went home, matured by the experience.

I graduated from high school on June 8, 1967, got married to Sandra Dako on June 10th, We went on a quick honeymoon to Mammoth Caves, which was all we could afford. Well, what I could afford. I covered most of the wedding costs personally. We all stood at the train station in Akron, my Mom, Dad, and Sandi on June 26th. It was the first time I saw my Mom cry as I left.

I had a sleeper-car for the ride because it took all night to go from Akron to Louisville, KY. When I arrived at Fort Knox, all I knew was that the US gold was housed there. From there, my whole world changed beyond belief.  We were immediately yelled at by my some Sargent who called us all girls and that we could give our souls to God, but that our asses now belonged to the Army.

I was stripped of all identity, hair cut off, clothes taken, personal items confiscated and stored and left looking exactly like every other naked guy in skivvies. They then began to give us new identities, a green uniform, boots and a hat, and on day two, my own last name on a tag that I had to sew on my shirts. Even tho every guy had their last name on their uniform, we all had the same middle name, Fuckin!  It was Fuckin Frank, get over here.  Fuckin Frank, drop and give 50 push-ups because I don’t like the expression on your face.

A couple of events happened in Basic Training that are worth mentioning. One, I developed an infection in one of my molars.  The swelling finally got so bad my eye was beginning to close.  I was “allowed” to walk to the base dental office, where two medics held me down, while another yanked the tooth out. There was so much pus, any Novocaine would not take effect.  Ouch!

The second was more complicated.  During PT (Physical Training,- two hours a day), I passed out and collapsed. Upon awakening, I was told to “walk” to the dispensary to see a doctor. I remember walking down the road, not knowing exactly where I was supposed to go, when this jeep came along-side me and a guy said, you alright? I was staggering from the heat, July in Kentucky, and the fever.  Upon arrival, they decided that I might have an appendicitis by sticking their finger up my ass to see if it hurt. They also pressed on my lower right quadrant to see if there was pain upon releasing their pressure. Both hurt like hell! I was taken by jeep to the hospital, where they repeated the procedures and determined that yes, I had an Appendicitis and scheduled me for immediate surgery.

I remember telling them that I did not want to worry my Mom by letting her know I was going into surgery. I figured it was better to say, Mom, I am out of surgery and doing fine. I recall them getting me out of the recovery room bed to walk to the phone while holding onto the IV pole to talk to my Mom. Humorously, I remember saying yes Mam to my mother as I had been commanded to by the military to speak to any female officer.

Story short, I spent three weeks in the hospital, having contracted serious pneumonia following surgery. Sandi and brother Mike came to visit me in the hospital. The result was I had to repeat Basic Training all over again due to being absent for three weeks. UGH! Normally, guys who cannot pass the final rugged tests for Basic Training are called Recycles.  Due to the event, I was classified as a Recycle. Further embarrassment.

The bottom picture is me after three weeks in the hospital, having lost about 35 pounds. Not good!

One of the first things I learned in the military is that when you think you know what is going on, you don’t have a clue to what is going on.