carolynarza-blog

[carolynarza-blog]

The Little Things

A few weeks after arriving in Kuwait, I began to notice how much I missed certain things that I didn't realize I would miss. Things like going to the grocery store and picking up my favorite snacks, including fresh fruit and brie cheese with crackers. They don't sell these items on base. Fresh fruit is available at the cafeteria every morning, but the early birds end up taking all of the good fruit, like the strawberries and blueberries. By the time I arrive at 7:20, only chopped up pieces of flavorless green melon remain, which are usually partially submerged in a thin layer of cloudy water. Appetizing, I know. Living in California has spoiled me because there is always fresh fruit available year-round.

I miss blasting music in my car to the point of inducing borderline hearing loss while yelling out the wrong lyrics, attempting to sing along and suppress the miserable reality of sitting in rush hour, bumper to bumper LA traffic. Occasionally I’ll head bang, but only after the sun goes down to prevent those driving beside from judging me too hard. I don't drive on base here, and there's never an opportunity to listen to music any louder than my headphones will allow. Living in barracks means you have roommates and neighbors, which means you have to watch TV and movies on low volume or through headphones (unless of course you're an asshole and don't care about disturbing your roommates). After getting married, I never thought the word "roommate" would apply to me ever again. Wrong. The military probably wouldn't exist if its budget included supplying each soldier with their own bed, let alone their own room. That's right, I am almost 31 years old and I sleep in a bunk bed!! Haha. I got lucky though and currently have it all to myself. Small luxuries go a long way in a deployed environment :)

Dressing up for a night out is something else I sort of miss, which isn’t unreasonable considering I’m a woman, after all. What chick doesn’t want to look good? Because when you look good, you feel good. Shown below is me wearing my favorite pair of earrings (yes, they’re fake, but who cares). Obviously I can’t wear them in uniform (or any pair, for that matter). About one night every other weekend, my medics and I will get permission to go off base to a local Kuwaiti restaurant, which is the only time I’ll do my hair and try to look presentable. Wearing a uniform all week with my hair slicked back in a tight bun makes me feel manly, and as a straight woman, I’d prefer not to feel that way. Don’t forget, I live in California, where man-buns are a thing. In southern California, people try hard to appear like they aren’t trying, e.g. looking a certain “carefree” way. East coasters might refer to this style as “hippie”. Ha. 

Anyway, 98% of the time while on base I am wearing a t-shirt, yoga pants, and sneakers which are usually caked with sandy mud. Don’t get me wrong, I love dressing comfortably, but I am starting to feel lazier than I actually am. After work, you can find me in my bottom bunk watching Dexter or perhaps one of the 1,800 movies a computer nerd (and savior) uploaded onto my 4 terabyte external hard drive that he suggested I purchase for this very reason. His last name is McPherson, but I nicknamed him “Baby Fierce” because it sounds hilarious. I’ve always liked giving people ridiculous nicknames, especially if they catch on. Apparently all of my medics now refer to him as “Baby Fierce” as well as a handful of the computer guys he works with, which was exactly my intent. HAHA. I am fully aware that I am a weirdo and incredibly twisted. Moving on.

You might be wondering why I haven’t mentioned my husband in this post, however, take note of the title. He has a big presence in my life and of course I realized I would miss him during this deployment, much more than all of these little things combined <3 Only a few more months!

[carolynarza-blog]

Unleashed in the Middle East

Kuwait is actually a dry country, so smoking hookah is about as “unleashed” as you can get. That’s right, I haven’t had a glass of wine since leaving the states last month. I can’t imagine how an alcoholic would feel right now, except maybe a bit devastated and physically wrecked. Apparently over New Years, before I arrived in theater, the cafeteria on base (also known as the DFAC) was able to import a modest amount of cheap beer to give the soldiers something to celebrate with. The limit was 2 cans of beer per person. Crazy, right?! Well because everyone’s tolerance was so low, soldiers were getting drunk and out of control even before finishing their second can, forcing the DFAC to close early. Pretty hilarious.

Anyway, back to smoking hookah. I've always liked this social activity because it's relaxing and forces you to interact with those around you. Usually when you smoke hookah, you sit facing each other around a table while telling funny stories, laughing, and attempting to blow out perfect "o's" with your exhaled smoke (something I've never quite been able to master). Now days, everyone is buried in their phones 24/7, constantly checking their social media accounts to see how many "likes" their most recent selfie picture got, as if they were competing in some sort of popularity contest. I'll admit, I too use social media (hence this blog) and have also posted selfies in my day, but I think some people use social medial platforms so obsessively that they gradually lose their social skills and don't realize how deeply they are lost within the cyber world. Next time you're over at a friend's house, particularly in a group setting, take note of how many of your friends are staring at their phones, eyes glazed over, while aimlessly scrolling through them. Sometimes I wonder if social media addicts would ever leave their house if they didn't have a camera phone to capture what they did that day to later post about, followed by a zillion hashtags (you all know that person who posts hashtags in paragraph format). I guess this is the world we now live in. Addicted to technology.

I cannot wait to get back home and have a glass of Petite Sirah (my favorite so far: Priest Ranch). Thank you Michelle for introducing me to these great wines! I had a glass every night for about 2 weeks straight prior to deploying. **stands up and faces the room** Hi, my name is Carolyn, and I am an addict. To red wine and good times. 

[carolynarza-blog]

Battle Rhythm

Everyone kept asking me if I settled into a “battle rhythm” yet during my first week in Kuwait. I wasn’t sure what they meant by that, but I do now. When you’re deployed, you have to come up with a new daily routine for yourself so that you don’t go insane. Living on a military base, especially in a foreign country, means you can’t just get up and go places if you’re bored and want a change of scenery. In order to drive off base, you need to get a driver’s license, request a vehicle, and then sign out in a log book so that the command can keep track of where people are, what time they leave and what time they return. Accountability is big in the military, which isn’t necessarily a bad thing. It just kind of takes you back to your early high school days when mom and dad wanted to keep tabs on you to make sure you were safe and not getting into trouble. Reversing your mentality to that of a teenager is rather deflating, especially when you’ve been living on your own for the last however many years and suddenly everyone needs to know where you are and what you’re doing. Oh, and it doesn’t matter what rank you are. Accountability doesn’t discriminate. 

At first I didn’t care about having a battle rhythm. I figured I’d just wake up and see where the day would take me. Turns out, the days here take me to the exact same place and time, like clock-work. If you’ve ever watched the movie Groundhog Day, then I play Bill Murray’s character, Phil. The only difference is I know there’s an end date, which makes it easier to keep my sanity. I normally go to bed early, around 9pm. I’ll wake up at 6, shower, get dressed, then go to breakfast (in the military, they call it “chow”). After that, it’s time for COFFEE.

Since arriving, I’ve gone to Starbucks (aka 4bucks) every. single. day. It’s a small luxury I don’t mind spoiling myself with every morning because a.) Kuwait is still considered a combat zone, and if you’re a deployed to a combat zone, all of your income is tax-free. So I figured I’m getting a 30% raise while I’m here, so why the hell not? b.) I don’t spend ANY money on anything else - all meals are paid for in addition to all activities, including going to the movie theater (yes, there is a movie theater on base) and c.) it’s on my way to work. If I just walked past it every morning without stopping for a latte, I’d be doing a disservice to myself, which I don’t think I could live with. In fact, the baristas behind the counter know what I want as soon as they see me walking in. All I need to do is make eye contact with one of them and follow it with an upward head nod, which is hilariously bro if you ask me. All of the baristas are Indian and speak with a thick accent, so it’s pretty funny when they try or succeed at making jokes. Sometimes they’ll verbally confirm my order just to ensure I didn’t change my mind. “Tall vanilla latte with 2 pumps of flavoring instead of 3, you got it ma’am.” Damn right. This morning I was asked why only 2 pumps and I replied “too sweet”. In his thick little Indian accent, he goes “too sweet like you?”. I couldn’t help but shake my head and laugh. The guy behind me in line laughed too. Sooo corny!

I’ve contemplated starting an IV bag of dark roast expresso on myself at the Battalion Aid Station (BAS) at a rate of 500ccs/hr to prevent myself from falling asleep at my desk, but decided against it. 100ccs/hr would work better. The days here are just soo slow. I work 8AM-3PM every day and then 8AM-11AM on Saturdays. After I get off work, I walk 10 minutes back to my barracks and then usually lie in bed to contemplate the meaning of life. Just kidding. I’m usually scrolling through memes (as I laugh by myself) or messaging friends/family back home. From time to time, I’ll take a nap, which feels glorious. Lately, I’ve been lifting weights at the gym which is something I’ve never been passionate about. But hey, maybe it’ll become my next new hobby. 

By the way, pictured above are some of my medics who for some reason enjoy doing pull-ups together after lunch, which I assume is part of their battle rhythm. Miller, Warmsley, and Patterson. Warmsley is hilarious. He is addicted to crack. Yes, he officially renamed the macadamia cookies at the cafeteria “crack” because he can’t get enough of them. His tolerance has steadily increased too, so instead of 1 cookie he’Il take down 3 or 4 at a time. Guilt usually follows. Because of this addiction he is constantly paranoid that he’s developed diabetes, but refuses to let me check his blood sugar. LOL. One thing I do enjoy is quoting Whitney Houston to him whenever he finds himself in a dark place, relapsing - CRACK is WACK!

[carolynarza-blog]

Another Day in Paradise

Since I'm going to be spending the next however many months with my medics at this Battalion Aid Station, I figured I should properly introduce them into my blog. Right now, I have 5 medics, all of whom make my life easier. Warmsley, Patterson, Gonzo (Gonzales), Miller, and Saffle. They screen every patient (soldier) who walks through the door and determine if I need to evaluate them or if the visit can be handled as a "medic visit". For example today we've had soldiers presenting with coughs, sore throats, and knee pain. I'm usually sitting at my desk in the back listening to music while attempting to study for my PA recertification (board exam). I'm easily distracted so the studying hasn't been going very well, to be honest. Any time I hear one of them laughing, I have to find out why and then suddenly I’m scrolling through memes on the internet with them or watching funny YouTube videos (sometimes over and over, because usually they get funnier the more times you watch them). Hours later I’m wondering where the hell my day went. 

Anyway, when we're actually working, one of the medics will present a patient to me (give me the patient's age, current symptoms, clinical findings, and their plan of care). I usually agree with their plan of care, so then I don’t need to see the patient. When asked if they can give allergy meds, cough suppressants, ibuprofen, my response is usually “yeah whatever”. The only time I get involved is if the patient has already failed conservative treatment and is not getting better at which time I might order some x-rays or write out a referral to specialty care. Apparently there was one soldier who was mad with the previous PA for not offering her low back surgery for her acute back pain. Picturing myself in this situation made me laugh. Hard. Does this soldier really want a Physician Assistant cutting her open in a small tent with limited resources, not to mention a non-sterile environment with lack of attending physician supervision? PAs are not surgeons, we only assist with surgery. I’m still trying to think of what I’m going to say to this soldier if she confronts me with the same request. I’ll try to keep my sarcasm under control (or I won’t).

The struggle is real when trying to maintain my professionalism at work. Like that time in PA school when I asked a post-operative patient what happened to his abdominal stitches I was scheduled to remove that day. His horrifying response was, “my parrots got to them”. No lie- I can’t make this shit up. I had sooo many questions that were suppressed in my mind by the overwhelming urge to yell “what the fuck!!!”. Instead of verbalizing my desired response, I think I replied with something vague like, “right on”. Ya know, something non-judgmental. After I left the room, it was hilarious explaining to the surgeon the reason his patient didn’t have stitches to remove was because his pet parrots yanked them out. I’m gonna leave you with this lovely visual and go ahead and end this post. Just another day in paradise.

[carolynarza-blog]

Look After You

One of my all time favorite songs by The Fray. I’m listening to it right now through my Bose headphones, waiting for time to pass at this Battalion Aid Station. I think this song would sound amazing on the piano.

^ As I was typing that, one of my medics busted into my office and announced that we are doing a “push-up challenge” every hour on the hour. Naturally my response was wtf and why. Apparently my medic wants to “boost morale up in here”, which I guess I can stand behind. I vowed to only do 10 push ups so that I don’t get all sweaty in case a patient shows up. I’d feel a little uneasy if I showed up for a medical appointment and my provider was drenched in sweat, wouldn’t you? Moving on.

A Battalion Aid Station is a small tent equipped to handle minor aches and pains. It is more like an urgent care rather than an emergency room. I’ve been in theater for several weeks now and the majority of the complaints that come in involve musculoskeletal injuries, coughs, and sore throats. It’s definitely much slower paced than I’m accustomed to. I prefer to work in a surgical subspecialty because you already know what is wrong with the patient when they come to clinic. The work-up has already been done by their primary care providers, which makes the job of a specialist easier. When you’re a primary care provider, you have to think more and are required to know a little about everything from a medical standpoint, including treatment protocols for different age groups. What is going on with the patient? What labs or diagnostic studies should I order? Am I missing something? What if they don’t get better? Is there really something wrong or is it all in their head? Are they drug seeking? These are all questions I’ve asked myself as a PA student during my primary care rotations. Once I graduated, I knew there was no turning back. No more primary care. I wanted to work in a specialty so that I could be an expert in my field, which is easier to accomplish when you only have to focus on learning one body system really well. In primary care, you have to know ALL of the body systems, but not particularly well (you just need to know when it’s time to refer the patient to a specialist). 

Another reason I like working in a surgical subspecialty is you fix them, see them a few times after that, and then hopefully that’s it. As Ariana Grande would say, “thank u, next”. Haha. Patients usually get instant gratification from the surgery they underwent and are forever grateful that you helped make them feel better. I’m not gonna lie, it makes me feel good. I’ve always enjoyed making other people smile, whether it’s through my sense of humor, through work, or just giving (hugs, presents, attention, you name it). I would MUCH rather give someone a badass gift over receiving one. If you’re someone I care about, you better believe I’ll Look After You. See what I did there? :)

[carolynarza-blog]

Commissioned

I joined the army in October 2016 as a direct commission, which basically means I was willingly snatched off the streets and given a rank and a uniform (which I felt I had no business wearing because I had no prior military experience and had no idea what the hell I was doing). I didn’t even have to attend basic training. I literally knew nothing. Instead of saluting back to those I outranked, I smiled and waved. The first day at my unit I mistakenly asked a private if I was to call him “sir”. He politely responded with, “no ma’am”, attempting to hide his smile. HAHA. I probably looked like a freaking idiot, but it’s whatever.

Anyway, “direct commissions” are civilians who have special skills that are critical to sustaining military operations, supporting troops, health and scientific study. These officers usually occupy leadership positions in the above categories. I copied and pasted that from Wikipedia, so don’t fact-check me, lmao. So I was brought in as a Captain because of my experience as a Physician Assistant. You might be asking why I joined the army in the first place, considering I have no family members with prior service (air force and navy don’t count, hooah). The reason is simple: $$$

LA is expensive AF and I wanted to start saving for a house. Unless you’re a multi-millionaire, saving while you live in LA is nearly impossible. The cost of living is insanely high. The only positive aspects of LA are the food, weather, and proximity to the beach. Everything else about it just sucks. Traffic is HORRIBLE (I can’t emphasize this enough) and there are WAY too many people, which reminds me of an excellent quote from one of my all-time favorite TV shows. “There are way too many people on this earth. We need a new plague.” - Dwight Schrute, The Office. If you don’t know me already, you’ll come to realize I have a dark sense of humor. I laugh at awkward situations including situations where laughing is frowned upon. I’m always laughing about something, really. Usually it’s stupid.