My goddamn camera got stolen....or lost.......I dont remember.....but I had a billion pics on it and now you all....all 4 of you, dont get new pics. Poo.
Oh well.......since no one read these before, I'd appreciate if you read and commented on these now.
The Power Plant
We had been briefed for one of the largest structure sweeps since the beginning of the war. We were to take this area called the Yusifiyah Thermal Power Plant.
Saddam had originally paid for this place to be built near the Euphrates
river, but he defaulted on the payments. So the Russians left all this
equipment there and pulled out. Its two square clicks (kilometer) large and
had a five story super structure in the center. In the flat-land warfare, he
who controls the roof controls the battle. We cleared the structure and was
doing clean-up when I noticed that in the setting desert sun, the
surrounding area looked so eerie. I learned later that the power plant had
been a stronghold of insurgents, a base of operations and graveyard of
captured American GI's. We found body parts, blood and issued equipment of
the boys that had be captured in August. They had been questioned, tortured,
raped, and executed there. The blood of those boys and countless Iraqis
consecrates the land we just overtook. To be there, in that sunset, was much
like being in Mad Max. Everything had a thick coat of rust and animal filth.
Massive amounts of equipment, unused and wasting away, to be taken by
scavengers .The structure itself was a derelict monument to power and
removal of such by force. The best word to describe it all is
post-apocalyptic. There is this building that we determined to be the
air-conditioner for the thermal plant. It is 5 stories tall and is made out
of tubes that are no larger than my forearm. It looks like a building of
worms and through my NVGs (night vision googles) it appears to move. So alot
of the guys are already superstitious about the ghosts of the lads that died
here and this building starts screaming. I mean worse than any horror film
I've ever seen. Like the souls of the damned have risen at night to haunt
us. So every night without fail this building comes to life under our
googles and begins screaming as if it was being tortured for all hours of
the night. I can here it and after the third night I started to joke, "Damn
this is it. We are going to start dissappearing one by one and then I'm
gonna meet Freddy Kruger or Jason." Well that morning, we are eating our
breakfast MRE and finally someone says, "Doc seriously man, I cant take that
demonic screaming anymore. What the hell have we done? Can you give me
something to calm my nerves?" I told him no and that he would have to
re-adjust his manhood so it could get some air and start being professional.
That night sure enough we get attacked. Some mortars and small arms fire. No
injuries. About 2 hours later, the screaming starts, but its moving. The SAW
gunner just opens up.
BRAT TAT TATATAT TATATATATA
We run over to his position. Hes shaking uncontrollably, yelling that the
demons were flying past his position on the third floor south window trying
to kill him. We pulled him off the gun and I dropped 50 mgs of phenergan IV
in him. That morning we had a pow wow over a smoke about what the hell we
should do. I mean how do you stop something as strange as that? We came up
with the idea that the chaplain may have to come see it and give his
blessing/exorcism or something. He came out that day. As the night fell and
the screaming started, he just cracked up. Fell to the ground laughing so
hard he was crying. You see the chaplain was an avid hunter and outdoorsman.
All that demonic, twisted, horrifying screams of pain and death was really
just a damn screech owl and its nest in the worm building. We figured that
all the tubing was like a resonator for the call of the owl, amplifying it
to ungodly proportions. So when the demons came for that boys soul on the
third floor it was just the owl swooping for some prey.............silly us.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Night Vision
Have you ever seen the world through emerald eyes? Not the eyes of jealousy or envy, but through the eyes of a soldier at night. Of course I mean night vision. On this last mission I realized the gravity of my situation. What sane human being says, "Yea I'll wait here with a 240b (a large caliber weapon), at 2 am in the morning, just waiting for someone to fire at us, fighting to stay awake, on the most dangerous road south of baghdad." Man I must be ka-razy.
Through the nods (night operating devices) I cant see the world through the eyes of cats. Its so fun to sneak up on a group of people talking at night and toss rocks at them and watch the chaos through the green glow of technological superiority.
The world changes when people go to sleep. Most people dont realize the goings on of the night. When you dont fill the space with white light and wear NVG's, you can see the movement and the magic. Animals feel safer, the plants ease a sigh of relief and the earth moves itself. The stars become more amazing than ever. It's as if there were only a handful of stars in the sky before the nods were put on. There are millions of beautiful pinpricks of light though the green vail. I remember flying over Seoul one night on a critical medevac mission and I was simply stunned by the sheer breadth and surreal aura of the city in a green/whitish hue. Even though I saw it everyday for a month, I was in awe every time.
A few days ago I walked across the Euphrates River. As I was settling down after the 6 hour raid, I thought find me a handful of americans that have experianced that. Maybe I should put it into context. We marched 10 clicks down the cover of a gully, to the edge of the river dyke. Now when we are suited up our gear weighs roughly 100lbs. Add 30-40 lbs for my medic bag. Now as we wait for the Apache helo to clear the other side with thermal vision, I start to wonder if we are crossing in a boat or what? We get the ok to move across and its now deep into the night.
Remember that I have a PVS14 NVG system. The PVS7 covers both eyes and uses one scope to produce the same image in both eyes. The 14's are monocular. one scope/one eye. The other is seeing regular moonlight. The system provides better depth perception at a loss of unity. Its funny how the body compensates for the lack of the senses with eye domination.
Moving on, we get to the bridge. It is made of old pontoon boats with diamond sheet metal plates strewn across them. At the beginning of the conflict we blew the bridge at the edges to prevent vehicles from crossing. The locals have strewn shabby boards across to make it tranversible on foot. I didnt think of it until we had crossed back over, but if I had fallen I would have sank straight to the bottom and drowned before I was able to get my gear off. It was uncomfortable. It made me ask myself "Why am I unafraid? Have I become so content in life? Or is it that I focus on the task in a tough situation, not the consequences?"
We went to the other side and I was able to taste the dust of Al Anbar desert. It was like the sunbaked rocks of Zion. I found it astounding. I was standing on the edge of life and death. As I faced north beneath my right foot was a wasteland. A desolate area of nothingness. Only the howls of the night and the stars to keep it company. To my left was the green lush land of Babylon. The area had been a host to life since the dawn of man. Mesopotamia. I could not fathom that it was as literally black and white as that. The beauty of duality. Balance. At that moment I was balanced and focused. I hope that when I get these tattoos, they will remind me to maintain that moderation in all aspects of my life and serve as a lesson to others that it can be had.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Medevac
Part of being a good medic is in the hands. It's not the strength or grip had by a mechanic or a plumber. It's not the dexterity or agility of a pianist or violinist. It's the actual sensation of touch. The ability to feel the slightest vibration, texture, or motion. That is essential for diagnosing and treating patients. Not only does it benefit trauma patients (i.e. detecting crepitus/edema, feeling blood pressure/pulse without a BP cuff, and examining abdominal injuries) but also in treating clinical patients (i.e. tender area palpation, the warmth associated with infection, and of course the gloved exam). Not all clinical situations are easy. I have done some very difficult IV sticks. Low-light conditions, heavy turbulence in a Blackhawk, combative patients, and elderly jugular vein sticks are just a few.
Most of what we do is painful. Hell, our job is pain and the management of such. Most people don't understand that fact. In order to minimize it, sometimes we have to be rough. For example, if pinching you would save your life, would you want me to do it for 10 seconds or for 2? A lot of medics have never applied a tourniquet. They may know that when it gets tight enough to stop bleeding in practice, it feels uncomfortable to painful. Now when it is used on a real trauma patient, it will cause excruciating often unbearable pain until it stops arterial bleeding especially if the tourniquet is near a joint.
I used to pull a Medevac rotation 17 miles from the North Korean DMZ every other week. I had a few trauma patients and lots of patient transfers. Contrary to popular belief, flight medics don't just fly those that are seriously messed up. We do transfers between hospitals when the condition of the roads is poor or congested.
Being the most experienced medic on site, I would leave our quarters in the basement to hang out in the aid station, teach the junior enlisted, and flirt with all the cutie female medics. It was the best gig in all Korea. We had our own rooms, a huge flat screen HDTV decked out with $5000 leather couches, and a full-size kitchen. I could tell you stories about the aviation groupies we had that would cook and clean for us, but you wouldn't believe the stuff these girls did anyways.
My worst medevac started out with a call that a soldier had severed his radial artery in his right arm/hand. The ambulance crew brings in this completely drunk kid. I remember that all I could smell was the copper taste of blood. It was everywhere. He seemed to have bathed in it before we picked him up. Ever see the movie "Carrie"? Yea, that was him. I'll never forget he was wearing a white t-shirt that said, "Fuck you, you fucking fuck!" I thought how appropriate.
So we get him of the gurney onto the table. Naturally the Physician's Assistant had to probe the wound and earn some cool points from the aforementioned hottie medics. This tard opens the bandages and peels back the blood-soaked ace wrap. I laughed so hard, I almost cried. His attempt to be suave and impressive back-fired on him when the movement of the hand dislodged what little clot had formed, spraying him in the face. He drops the limb, covering the ladies, and the wall on the opposite side with blood. He had forgotten to apply the tourniquet before examining the laceration. I ran in and pumped up the BP cuff as one of the girls applied direct pressure.
By this time the kid had taken 3 liters of NS (Normal Saline) and was still chuggin it intravenously. The PA got a hold of the vascular surgeon in Seoul and we were requested to fly him down. As I was getting ready for the flight I asked the girls to let him urinate and secure his good arm before coming aboard. He was on his 4th liter by the time I grabbed my Zoll M. FYI the Zoll M is the best heart monitor/defibrillator/NIBP machine around.
The gurney rolls out to the aircraft. As protocol dictated, I was standing on the edge of the blades ready to escort the litter under the spinning blades. It can be pretty nerve racking to stand under the downblast of a twin engine Blackhawk. The roar of the turbines and the wind caused the speed of the blades is enough to cause people to crouch or freeze.
I got him in the bird and waved off the 3-man loading crew. We took off as I hooked up his IV bag to the bird, the NIBP to his good arm, and the heart monitor to his chest. Though it wasn't necessary to get his EKG, it's the easiest way to check his pulse and oxygen saturation. After I secured his injured limb to the carousel above his body, I heard this yahoo screaming something to me at the top of his lungs. I peeled off the earcup of my headset and put my head as close to his mouth as possible. There isn't any insulation on the standard Blackhawk so the sound of the rotor is almost as loud as outside.
His breath smelled like cheap tequila and stomach bile. I could only make out two words. "TO" and "PEE!" Pretty simple problem. Impossible timing. No solution. I yelled back that he has to hold it and gave him the 15 mins til touch down hand gesture. Sometimes in life you look back on events in your life and say, "That's where things went to shit. That was the turning point." I saw that after another minute of biting his lip, he began screaming again.
"Let me have my good arm!" The moment I loosened the waist strap his hand shot down his pants and grabbed his instrument in an attempt to pinch it off. Although he was successful, I think the heat or the feeling hit him like punch to the noggin. He begins to pass out as his pulse spikes. The grip lets go. The last time I had the sensation of a golden shower was changing my little brother when he an infant. Of course he laughed. So as I'm working on this guy we both get a shot in the face. I instantly grab the wool blankets and smother the geyser. Next thing I know, he is semi-conscious. Conscious enough to turn his head and start convulsing. Not an epileptic seizure, but the kind right before you up-chuck. I start cussing like a sailor while the rotor drowns out the sound of chunks covering my safety vest and the Zoll M. I tried to catch every piece because when someone vomits in the bird the smell doesn't leave for a week.
If that wasn't enough trouble, when he turned to puke the third time, he had dislodged his wounded arm and split the laceration wide open. The medics forgot to re-inflate the cuff when they put him on-board and it was dark so I didn't catch it on my intervention sweep. The spray fans out far enough to cover my crew chief, who feels warm liquid and believes we blew a hydraulic line. He starts screaming at the pilots and they in turn begin doing a series of hydraulic checks. I can't really talk at this point because I'd have to taste the piss and blood that is already in my mouth. So I grab the crew chief and push his hand onto the wound while I grab some sterile dressings. We finally land in Seoul at 121 General ER. The offload crew take a concerned look at me as I jump out. Screw protocol. I don't bother escorting the crew in or out. I jump into the ambulance to head from the LZ to the ER bay. I can feel my stench bleeding into the crevasses of the van. Usually the crew will ask me for vitals, but I'm sure my look shut down any attempts to be cordial. I do the signature exchange with the on-call MD with a sigh of relief. This asshole is no longer my responsibility.
The entire flight back was absolutely silent. When I got back to Casey, I refused to do any other missions that night. I took a 45 min shower, washed my flight suit, and crashed out. We had a good ole' laugh the next day as they referred to me as Doc the human toilet.
Oh well.......since no one read these before, I'd appreciate if you read and commented on these now.
The Power Plant
We had been briefed for one of the largest structure sweeps since the beginning of the war. We were to take this area called the Yusifiyah Thermal Power Plant.
Saddam had originally paid for this place to be built near the Euphrates
river, but he defaulted on the payments. So the Russians left all this
equipment there and pulled out. Its two square clicks (kilometer) large and
had a five story super structure in the center. In the flat-land warfare, he
who controls the roof controls the battle. We cleared the structure and was
doing clean-up when I noticed that in the setting desert sun, the
surrounding area looked so eerie. I learned later that the power plant had
been a stronghold of insurgents, a base of operations and graveyard of
captured American GI's. We found body parts, blood and issued equipment of
the boys that had be captured in August. They had been questioned, tortured,
raped, and executed there. The blood of those boys and countless Iraqis
consecrates the land we just overtook. To be there, in that sunset, was much
like being in Mad Max. Everything had a thick coat of rust and animal filth.
Massive amounts of equipment, unused and wasting away, to be taken by
scavengers .The structure itself was a derelict monument to power and
removal of such by force. The best word to describe it all is
post-apocalyptic. There is this building that we determined to be the
air-conditioner for the thermal plant. It is 5 stories tall and is made out
of tubes that are no larger than my forearm. It looks like a building of
worms and through my NVGs (night vision googles) it appears to move. So alot
of the guys are already superstitious about the ghosts of the lads that died
here and this building starts screaming. I mean worse than any horror film
I've ever seen. Like the souls of the damned have risen at night to haunt
us. So every night without fail this building comes to life under our
googles and begins screaming as if it was being tortured for all hours of
the night. I can here it and after the third night I started to joke, "Damn
this is it. We are going to start dissappearing one by one and then I'm
gonna meet Freddy Kruger or Jason." Well that morning, we are eating our
breakfast MRE and finally someone says, "Doc seriously man, I cant take that
demonic screaming anymore. What the hell have we done? Can you give me
something to calm my nerves?" I told him no and that he would have to
re-adjust his manhood so it could get some air and start being professional.
That night sure enough we get attacked. Some mortars and small arms fire. No
injuries. About 2 hours later, the screaming starts, but its moving. The SAW
gunner just opens up.
BRAT TAT TATATAT TATATATATA
We run over to his position. Hes shaking uncontrollably, yelling that the
demons were flying past his position on the third floor south window trying
to kill him. We pulled him off the gun and I dropped 50 mgs of phenergan IV
in him. That morning we had a pow wow over a smoke about what the hell we
should do. I mean how do you stop something as strange as that? We came up
with the idea that the chaplain may have to come see it and give his
blessing/exorcism or something. He came out that day. As the night fell and
the screaming started, he just cracked up. Fell to the ground laughing so
hard he was crying. You see the chaplain was an avid hunter and outdoorsman.
All that demonic, twisted, horrifying screams of pain and death was really
just a damn screech owl and its nest in the worm building. We figured that
all the tubing was like a resonator for the call of the owl, amplifying it
to ungodly proportions. So when the demons came for that boys soul on the
third floor it was just the owl swooping for some prey.............silly us.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Night Vision
Have you ever seen the world through emerald eyes? Not the eyes of jealousy or envy, but through the eyes of a soldier at night. Of course I mean night vision. On this last mission I realized the gravity of my situation. What sane human being says, "Yea I'll wait here with a 240b (a large caliber weapon), at 2 am in the morning, just waiting for someone to fire at us, fighting to stay awake, on the most dangerous road south of baghdad." Man I must be ka-razy.
Through the nods (night operating devices) I cant see the world through the eyes of cats. Its so fun to sneak up on a group of people talking at night and toss rocks at them and watch the chaos through the green glow of technological superiority.
The world changes when people go to sleep. Most people dont realize the goings on of the night. When you dont fill the space with white light and wear NVG's, you can see the movement and the magic. Animals feel safer, the plants ease a sigh of relief and the earth moves itself. The stars become more amazing than ever. It's as if there were only a handful of stars in the sky before the nods were put on. There are millions of beautiful pinpricks of light though the green vail. I remember flying over Seoul one night on a critical medevac mission and I was simply stunned by the sheer breadth and surreal aura of the city in a green/whitish hue. Even though I saw it everyday for a month, I was in awe every time.
A few days ago I walked across the Euphrates River. As I was settling down after the 6 hour raid, I thought find me a handful of americans that have experianced that. Maybe I should put it into context. We marched 10 clicks down the cover of a gully, to the edge of the river dyke. Now when we are suited up our gear weighs roughly 100lbs. Add 30-40 lbs for my medic bag. Now as we wait for the Apache helo to clear the other side with thermal vision, I start to wonder if we are crossing in a boat or what? We get the ok to move across and its now deep into the night.
Remember that I have a PVS14 NVG system. The PVS7 covers both eyes and uses one scope to produce the same image in both eyes. The 14's are monocular. one scope/one eye. The other is seeing regular moonlight. The system provides better depth perception at a loss of unity. Its funny how the body compensates for the lack of the senses with eye domination.
Moving on, we get to the bridge. It is made of old pontoon boats with diamond sheet metal plates strewn across them. At the beginning of the conflict we blew the bridge at the edges to prevent vehicles from crossing. The locals have strewn shabby boards across to make it tranversible on foot. I didnt think of it until we had crossed back over, but if I had fallen I would have sank straight to the bottom and drowned before I was able to get my gear off. It was uncomfortable. It made me ask myself "Why am I unafraid? Have I become so content in life? Or is it that I focus on the task in a tough situation, not the consequences?"
We went to the other side and I was able to taste the dust of Al Anbar desert. It was like the sunbaked rocks of Zion. I found it astounding. I was standing on the edge of life and death. As I faced north beneath my right foot was a wasteland. A desolate area of nothingness. Only the howls of the night and the stars to keep it company. To my left was the green lush land of Babylon. The area had been a host to life since the dawn of man. Mesopotamia. I could not fathom that it was as literally black and white as that. The beauty of duality. Balance. At that moment I was balanced and focused. I hope that when I get these tattoos, they will remind me to maintain that moderation in all aspects of my life and serve as a lesson to others that it can be had.
--------------------------------------------------------------------------------
Medevac
Part of being a good medic is in the hands. It's not the strength or grip had by a mechanic or a plumber. It's not the dexterity or agility of a pianist or violinist. It's the actual sensation of touch. The ability to feel the slightest vibration, texture, or motion. That is essential for diagnosing and treating patients. Not only does it benefit trauma patients (i.e. detecting crepitus/edema, feeling blood pressure/pulse without a BP cuff, and examining abdominal injuries) but also in treating clinical patients (i.e. tender area palpation, the warmth associated with infection, and of course the gloved exam). Not all clinical situations are easy. I have done some very difficult IV sticks. Low-light conditions, heavy turbulence in a Blackhawk, combative patients, and elderly jugular vein sticks are just a few.
Most of what we do is painful. Hell, our job is pain and the management of such. Most people don't understand that fact. In order to minimize it, sometimes we have to be rough. For example, if pinching you would save your life, would you want me to do it for 10 seconds or for 2? A lot of medics have never applied a tourniquet. They may know that when it gets tight enough to stop bleeding in practice, it feels uncomfortable to painful. Now when it is used on a real trauma patient, it will cause excruciating often unbearable pain until it stops arterial bleeding especially if the tourniquet is near a joint.
I used to pull a Medevac rotation 17 miles from the North Korean DMZ every other week. I had a few trauma patients and lots of patient transfers. Contrary to popular belief, flight medics don't just fly those that are seriously messed up. We do transfers between hospitals when the condition of the roads is poor or congested.
Being the most experienced medic on site, I would leave our quarters in the basement to hang out in the aid station, teach the junior enlisted, and flirt with all the cutie female medics. It was the best gig in all Korea. We had our own rooms, a huge flat screen HDTV decked out with $5000 leather couches, and a full-size kitchen. I could tell you stories about the aviation groupies we had that would cook and clean for us, but you wouldn't believe the stuff these girls did anyways.
My worst medevac started out with a call that a soldier had severed his radial artery in his right arm/hand. The ambulance crew brings in this completely drunk kid. I remember that all I could smell was the copper taste of blood. It was everywhere. He seemed to have bathed in it before we picked him up. Ever see the movie "Carrie"? Yea, that was him. I'll never forget he was wearing a white t-shirt that said, "Fuck you, you fucking fuck!" I thought how appropriate.
So we get him of the gurney onto the table. Naturally the Physician's Assistant had to probe the wound and earn some cool points from the aforementioned hottie medics. This tard opens the bandages and peels back the blood-soaked ace wrap. I laughed so hard, I almost cried. His attempt to be suave and impressive back-fired on him when the movement of the hand dislodged what little clot had formed, spraying him in the face. He drops the limb, covering the ladies, and the wall on the opposite side with blood. He had forgotten to apply the tourniquet before examining the laceration. I ran in and pumped up the BP cuff as one of the girls applied direct pressure.
By this time the kid had taken 3 liters of NS (Normal Saline) and was still chuggin it intravenously. The PA got a hold of the vascular surgeon in Seoul and we were requested to fly him down. As I was getting ready for the flight I asked the girls to let him urinate and secure his good arm before coming aboard. He was on his 4th liter by the time I grabbed my Zoll M. FYI the Zoll M is the best heart monitor/defibrillator/NIBP machine around.
The gurney rolls out to the aircraft. As protocol dictated, I was standing on the edge of the blades ready to escort the litter under the spinning blades. It can be pretty nerve racking to stand under the downblast of a twin engine Blackhawk. The roar of the turbines and the wind caused the speed of the blades is enough to cause people to crouch or freeze.
I got him in the bird and waved off the 3-man loading crew. We took off as I hooked up his IV bag to the bird, the NIBP to his good arm, and the heart monitor to his chest. Though it wasn't necessary to get his EKG, it's the easiest way to check his pulse and oxygen saturation. After I secured his injured limb to the carousel above his body, I heard this yahoo screaming something to me at the top of his lungs. I peeled off the earcup of my headset and put my head as close to his mouth as possible. There isn't any insulation on the standard Blackhawk so the sound of the rotor is almost as loud as outside.
His breath smelled like cheap tequila and stomach bile. I could only make out two words. "TO" and "PEE!" Pretty simple problem. Impossible timing. No solution. I yelled back that he has to hold it and gave him the 15 mins til touch down hand gesture. Sometimes in life you look back on events in your life and say, "That's where things went to shit. That was the turning point." I saw that after another minute of biting his lip, he began screaming again.
"Let me have my good arm!" The moment I loosened the waist strap his hand shot down his pants and grabbed his instrument in an attempt to pinch it off. Although he was successful, I think the heat or the feeling hit him like punch to the noggin. He begins to pass out as his pulse spikes. The grip lets go. The last time I had the sensation of a golden shower was changing my little brother when he an infant. Of course he laughed. So as I'm working on this guy we both get a shot in the face. I instantly grab the wool blankets and smother the geyser. Next thing I know, he is semi-conscious. Conscious enough to turn his head and start convulsing. Not an epileptic seizure, but the kind right before you up-chuck. I start cussing like a sailor while the rotor drowns out the sound of chunks covering my safety vest and the Zoll M. I tried to catch every piece because when someone vomits in the bird the smell doesn't leave for a week.
If that wasn't enough trouble, when he turned to puke the third time, he had dislodged his wounded arm and split the laceration wide open. The medics forgot to re-inflate the cuff when they put him on-board and it was dark so I didn't catch it on my intervention sweep. The spray fans out far enough to cover my crew chief, who feels warm liquid and believes we blew a hydraulic line. He starts screaming at the pilots and they in turn begin doing a series of hydraulic checks. I can't really talk at this point because I'd have to taste the piss and blood that is already in my mouth. So I grab the crew chief and push his hand onto the wound while I grab some sterile dressings. We finally land in Seoul at 121 General ER. The offload crew take a concerned look at me as I jump out. Screw protocol. I don't bother escorting the crew in or out. I jump into the ambulance to head from the LZ to the ER bay. I can feel my stench bleeding into the crevasses of the van. Usually the crew will ask me for vitals, but I'm sure my look shut down any attempts to be cordial. I do the signature exchange with the on-call MD with a sigh of relief. This asshole is no longer my responsibility.
The entire flight back was absolutely silent. When I got back to Casey, I refused to do any other missions that night. I took a 45 min shower, washed my flight suit, and crashed out. We had a good ole' laugh the next day as they referred to me as Doc the human toilet.
VIEW 14 of 14 COMMENTS
lang_:
How sucks at updating now?
necia:
So, hey! How are you?