Constantly under the microscope

As a medical provider, I have spent many hours in a clinical training environment, with any variety of preceptors looking over my shoulder. It becomes routine to adjust to another's opinions of "the right way," sometimes incorporating their suggestions, sometimes just smiling and moving on.

Well, we "soldiers"—my generic term for all of us here in training, really made up of Air Force, Army and Navy team members—at Camp Atterbury are currently undergoing a mission readiness exercise, otherwise known as "living under the giant microscope." We are conducting missions, throughout the acreage of the base, meant to replicate those we will likely experience once deployed to Afghanistan. We plan as we will in-country, conduct mission rehearsals and travel by convoy as a means of ironing out processes prior to leaving the training environment. So far, it has been the best training yet—a true time to put it all together and synchronize the information we have gained in the last two months. The drawback? Everywhere we turn, we are being observed, critiqued and assessed on our ability to do all of the above tasks.

We really appreciate all the work these dedicated trainers are doing, but some days it seems like we can't win. When that happens, we just smile, take the advice as intended and move on. We know we will soon be on our own in Afghanistan and the decisions will be ours. If, out of 20 suggestions, we utilize one, we have gained another tool to help us in our missions. And the additional time spent working together can only strengthen our bonds and improve our effectiveness once our boots "hit the ground."

When will that be? For security reasons, I can't say for certain and, to be honest, it changes every day. What I can tell you is, I anticipate celebrating my 39th birthday far from the safe shores of the United States!

Where's the Mommy?

I knew the hardest thing about deploying would be being away from my family and, so far, it has proven true. Prior to leaving, I was asked several times how I could be leaving my family for so long. How do you answer that? If you say, "It's just part of the job," you seem pretty cold and uncaring. If you break down in tears, people question your commitment to your chosen career.

I joined the Air Force nearly 16 years ago knowing a deployment was a constant possibility but, after all these years without being tasked, it became something that happend to other people. Now, here I sit in southern Indiana, learning all kinds of skills that one doesn't usually associate with a nurse practitioner. I have learned to shoot two weapons (M4 and 9MM), I have called firing comands to a HMMWV gunner, and have a basic understanding of greetings in Dari.

The best thing about the training? It keeps us busy and helps the time pass so I don't miss my family so much. My husband is doing a great job "holding down the fort," but somethings just cry out for the Mommy. My daughter turned eight a few weeks ago and Nate baked the cupcakes for her class. He also planned a great evening out at her favorite restaurant and fun was had by all, but I just hate not being there to celebrate with them. My boy "graduated" from kindergarten last week. (I know, a silly idea but tradition where we live. It is considered second only to the actual event 12 years later.) His teacher was so kind and forwarded some photos she took of him but, again, it isn't nearly as good as being there.

It is an odd feeling, knowing life is going on without you. Your children will continue to grow, events will happen in your loved ones' lives that you will never be a part of. That is a hard thing to accept and, some days, the "mommy guilt" is overwhelming. But even on the worst days, I soldier on, knowing each day brings me one day closer to home and believing that what we are going to do will make a difference in other's lives. While my family will have memories of this year that won't include me, I will be helping to change lives in Afghanistan and will forever be part of someone's memories there.