I have been deployed to Afghanistan with a Forward Surgical Team (FST) since June 2013. It has been both challenging and rewarding in ways that I never anticipated or expected. While I don't necessarily relish being here, it's been a great experience! As I watch a friend go home early, it makes me think about how I'd feel if I left right now.
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I have a countdown app on my Android phone that includes a home page widget you can set to display however many days until a date of your choosing. My widget has a picture of me with my significant other, David, and it is finally down to double digits for days remaining here in our little corner of Afghanistan!
I can recall when I first put it on my phone, and it was well over 240 days. My original orders for deployment in support of Operation Enduring Freedom (OEF) were "not to exceed 284." Ugh.
Every day when I wake up (or after midnight when my widget changes digits, haha), I divide the total by seven to calculate how many weeks I have left here. We're at less than 14 weeks currently (double digits in days!), so my brain automatically rounds down to 13-ish (conveniently for me). I think of it in terms of 13-ish more "civvy Sundays" (days we get to wear civilian clothes), 13-ish more days off (Saturdays for me, once I come off of night shift-there are no days off for night-shifters), 26-ish more Tuesday/Thursday classes taught by my unit peeps, 13-ish more weeks to work out in our amazingly dusty but much beloved gym.
Leaving this place has become a looming reality, and I feel a little bit sad at the prospect. I love what I do here, and I adore my unit (most of them, anyway; you can't love everyone!). One of the sad parts about being PROFIS (i.e., temporarily assigned to the unit only for the deployment) is that once we leave here, I won't see these peeps at home.
I used to think that I would give my eyeteeth to go home early. We used to hope for news that we'd get to leave early; I remember summertime musings of maybe being home before 2014 arrived.
Ha!
Those were just the idle speculations of people who were trying to get used to an unfamiliar place, who were acutely missing our families and loved ones stateside. We accepted our reality and embraced our role. As odd as this place is, it's become our "home" for now. How strange.
I recently had a very good friend (truly my "sister from another mister," haha) who was inadvertently and unfortunately injured here in country, and she's going home early. Thankfully she's fine, and will heal without a problem.
She and I came into country at the same time, so I know just where she is in her deployment. She is understandably upset about leaving her team. I can completely grasp the complex emotions: the excitement of being back stateside, of seeing our loved ones again, of doing all those things we miss (brushing teeth with tap water, showering barefoot, ordering pizza, etc.), coupled with the longing for the team with which we've endured so much. I'm sure her team has grown and bonded, as has ours, and it's going to be tough to leave the comfort of our brothers and sisters who get it, and get us.
We hear so much about PTSD and what happens when we go home. I wonder if I'll startle easily at loud noises, or if crowded places will overwhelm me, or if the colors and textures of home will just be too much for me at first. I think of the adjustment of getting back to my life, and I crave it and I dread it. I envision it will be similar to adjusting to daylight after being in the dark for so long, and I eagerly anticipate having to squint and shield my eyes against the brightness.
