Tired.

I wish that for one magic hour on a summer's evening, a weary nation would pause and reflect, and each man and woman would remember how the world once looked and smelled and felt and how nice it was to draw such supreme comfort and security by the simple act of putting one's hand into the hand of a father or mother.

--The Gold Coast by Nelson DeMille

I like this quote. While written in a fiction book years ago, it certainly seems to fit now. I read it and I want to hold Naomi and Jonah's hands so bad that it hurts. I want to pick them up and squeeze them tightly and let them know that I love them and I hope and pray that they never have to leave home for months on end because of war. I don't know how this war will end. I hope that we will leave this country better than we found it. I hope that we, as a country, will have learned something about ourselves and our place in the world.

I will not digress into too much politics here, but here is something else that I hope we learn as a country (and this applies to almost any issue of the day: war, taxes, health care reform): I hope we can come to some sort of understanding that just because someone is from a different political party does not automatically mean that their opinions are wrong. If you work on the assumption that every word coming from opposite side of the political aisle is false or designed to harm America, then your natural response will be to get your hackles up and attack when they say something. I'm a radiologist. I make my living by discerning between a multitude of shades of gray on images. Guess what...that's what life and politics is like. Nothing is ever as black and white as the different political parties would have you believe. The fringes of the parties would have you believe that...but they are fringes for a reason. Unfortunately, it's the fringes that yell the loudest and get the most air time because sensationalism sells.

Politics and the incessant bickering that goes with it makes me tired. I get tired of how worked up people get about it. No one seems to get that worked up by the fact that we've been at war for over 8 years, 5400+ dead, thousands more injured. Yet, people would rather yell and scream about how the other political party is evil and anti-American and those are the more benign terms.

OK, I digressed into politics. But for me, that's not what is important. Here's what is important: I want to see my kids. I want to hear them giggle and laugh. I want to hold their hands. I want to hear our dog snore. I want to be a family again.

Terror Alert.

I'll admit, some of the topics I write about aren't cheerful. The lyrics from "Sunday, Bloody, Sunday" by U2 were stuck in my head recently: "I can't believe the news today, Oh I can't close my eyes and make it go away." All that being said, all it takes is looking at the beautiful photo collages that the Gibbons family sent me to make me smile.

So, in the spirit of smiling and happy thoughts, I pass along the following response to a recent terror alert. This information was given to me by one of my Australian colleagues, so it's got to be true.

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The British are feeling the pinch in relation to recent terrorist threats in Islamabad and have raised their security level from "Miffed" to "Peeved." Soon, though, security levels may be raised yet again to "Irritated" or even "A Bit Cross." Brits have not been "A Bit Cross" since the blitz in 1940 when tea supplies all but ran out. Terrorists have been re-categorized from "Tiresome" to a "Bloody Nuisance." The last time the British issued a "Bloody Nuisance" warning level was during the great fire of 1666.

The French government announced yesterday that it has raised its terror alert level from "Run" to "Hide." The only two higher levels in France are "Surrender" and "Collaborate." The rise was precipitated by a recent fire that destroyed France's white flag factory, effectively paralyzing the country's military capability.

It's not only the French who are on a heightened level of alert. Italy has increased the alert level from "Shout loudly and excitedly" to "Elaborate Military Posturing." Two more levels remain: "Ineffective Combat Operations" and "Change Sides."

The Germans also increased their alert state from "Disdainful Arrogance" to "Dress in Uniform and Sing Marching Songs." They also have two higher levels: "Invade a Neighbor" and "Lose."

Belgians, on the other hand, are all on holiday as usual, and the only threat they are worried about is NATO pulling out of Brussels.

The Spanish are all excited to see their new submarines ready to deploy. These beautifully designed subs have glass bottoms so the new Spanish navy can get a really good look at the old Spanish navy.

Americans, meanwhile, are carrying out pre-emptive strikes on all of their allies, just in case.

New Zealand has also raised its security levels from "baaa" to "BAAAA!" Due to continuing defense cutbacks (the air force being a squadron of teenagers flying paper airplanes and the navy some toy boats in the Prime Minister's bath), New Zealand has only one more level of escalation, which is "Shoot, I hope Australia will come and rescue us." In the event of invasion, New Zealanders will be asked to gather together in a strategic defensive position, called Bondi.

Australia, meanwhile, has raised its security level from "No worries" to "She'll be right, mate." Three more escalation levels remain: "Crikey!", "I think we'll need to cancel the barbie this weekend" and "The barbie is cancelled". There has not been a situation yet that has warranted the use of the final escalation level.

End of message. End of broadcast.

Playing God.

So I ask you; when someone goes into that chapel and they fall on their knees and they pray to God that their wife doesn't miscarry or that their daughter doesn't bleed to death or that their mother doesn't suffer acute neural trama from postoperative shock, who do you think they're praying to? Now, go ahead and read your Bible, Dennis, and you go to your church, and, with any luck, you might win the annual raffle, but if you're looking for God, he was in operating room number two on November 17, and he doesn't like to be second guessed. You ask me if I have a God complex. Let me tell you something: I am God.

--from the movie, "Malice"

I am going to tread very gently around this topic. There are many things I want to say about this subject but because of where I am and the uniform I wear, I cannot. I will simply say this: None of us here like playing God. It is not something we take lightly. But sometimes, yes, sometimes we have to do things for the greater good. Our medical system does not always mesh with the local medical system. That is reality and that is out of our control. When we have to make hard decisions regarding patient care, know this, it hurts and we hurt. It just sucks.

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Onto less troubling topics.

I had the absolute joy this week of learning to play a new sport: Cricket. Some of our Australian counterparts brought out a portable pitch and all the equipment and then I think they mostly laughed at the antics of the silly Americans. There are many people here that say that was one of the most fun days they've had on deployment. Funny thing, I think back to playing Ultimate in Philly at the Edge and seeing the Cricket match going on next to us. I have most of the rules down now, if I ever make it back there then at least I can watch them play and understand what's going on! It really was a blast! And then to top it all off, the Aussies invited us over to their compound for a BBQ on Saturday night. Hey Ruth, maybe we should move to Australia!

Speaking of Ultimate, played another good game of it today. It was made all the more enjoyable by the chance meeting of a Canadian who clearly has played. The game becomes much easier when you have someone else who knows what they are doing. OK, and it also helps us win. And, as anyone who knows me and my slightly competitive nature, winning beats losing.

Here's what I'm going to miss at home: Naomi losing her first (and maybe more) tooth. Of course, if Ruth has her way they will all stay in until I come home. I've commented before on the magic that is Skype - well now I'm hoping I get to see a tooth come out on Skype! I try to get Naomi to wiggle her teeth for me which usually results in lots of giggling from Naomi and Jonah! The laughter of a child is tonic for whatever ails you. I could listen to Naomi and Jonah giggle forever. It makes my heart happy.

Rage, rage

Do not go gentle into that good night

by Dylan Thomas

Do not go gentle into that good night,

Old age should burn and rave at close of day;

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Though wise men at their end know dark is right,

Because their words had forked no lightning they

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Good men, the last wave by, crying how bright

Their frail deeds might have danced in a green bay,

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

Wild men who caught and sang the sun in flight,

And learn, too late, they grieved it on its way,

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Grave men, near death, who see with blinding sight

Blind eyes could blaze like meteors and be gay, 

Rage, rage against the dying of the light.

And you, my father, there on the sad height,

Curse, bless, me now with your fierce tears, I pray.

Do not go gentle into that good night.

Rage, rage against the dying of the light. 

This poem was read to us at morning report by one of our departing British doctors, Dr. Richard Cantelo. There is something about the reading of a poem (with a fine British accent) that speaks of fighting against death in a war zone, where young men and women do die, that is so incredibly moving. I've seen a heart that was not beating for several seconds suddenly start. We've all seen patients with injuries that at first blush seem incompatible with life, only to watch the patient "rage, rage against the dying of the light." As I said in my last post, it is awe-inspiring. I hope and pray that those young men and women who do succeed in raging against the dying of the light, continue raging because many of them will need every bit of emotional strength they can muster as they continue the healing process. I hope and pray that they have the support systems in place to help them and their families. We, as a military and as a country, owe them that.

The days are getting longer. The mornings aren't so cold. I love spring. I love the grass and little flowers that are trying to grow in a dusty, unfriendly environment. I love that it is March. Because if it is March then that means NCAA conference tournaments followed by March Madness. Not sure that there is a more perfect sporting event. This will be the first time in decades that I will not be watching many of the games live. I'll manage, but not sure the anxiety and excitement will transmit in quite the same fashion with the automatic 30 second refresh on the ESPN home page!

With spring comes rain. With rain comes mud and puddles. With puddles (or as we affectionately call it, Lake Kandahar) comes the opportunity to skip stones. It's the little things in life...