Baer Rebecca Angel - Living with no excuses: the remarkable rebirth of an American soldier

THESE BOMBS are so hot that your bones will actually fuse together, someone said. I couldnt make out who said it, but at least I thought I heard it. I couldnt open my mouth. Panic surged through my body, as I feared my jaw was fused shut from an explosion. I tried and tried to open my mouth. And then I felt someone place an object in my hand and I heard, If youre in pain, press this button.

My eyes popped open. It was a nightmare. Just a bad dream. But as my eyes darted around the room I suddenly realized I didnt know where I was. Gone was the hot desert sun, the swirling mix of dirt and sand, and comrades all around in camo. The sounds of war had been replaced with the faint sound of childrens voices singing Christmas carols. Suddenly I was aware of severe pain that pulsed throughout every inch of my body. I remembered the device in my handI assumed it was a morphine drip. I pressed the button over and over again, but there was no relief from the unbearable pain.

Then the door to the room swung open. In walked a man, a nurse, looking really annoyed.

Weve got kids out here singing Christmas carols for us because were away from our families and youre being rude, he said. Turns out Id moved my finger from the morphine button to the nurses call button.

Are you kidding me? I thought. I couldnt respond because I couldnt open my mouth. He knew that as he stood there smugly. I glared back at him and saw his name on the plastic tag attached to the pocket on his scrubs. I cant remember his name now, but at the time I repeated his name over and over again in my head. I let the pain engulf me as his name became a steady beat like a drum, and the angry rhythm in my head lulled me back to a deep, drugged sleep.

When I came to again the nurse was gone. My focus was hazy at best but in his place I saw a doctor and I heard him say, Ill take care of this one. And he stayed with me until three flight nurses arrived in Air Force uniforms. I remember the uniforms and I remember how nice they were to me. I was carefully moved from my bed to a gurney and wheeled outside and onto an ambulance truck. The frosty December air hit my body with a shock and I shivered. I remember the bitterness of the cold. It was December in Germany and my body hadnt adjusted from the oppressive heat of the war zone. As the gurney was rolled toward the ambulance I heard another man shouting and ranting. He was a frail, elderly black man and he was screaming words that didnt make sense. I looked up to the flight nurses to ask with my eyes, What is wrong with him? One of the nurses answered me saying that he was a veteran who had remained in Germany after completing his service. He was dying. They were taking him home so he could die surrounded by his loved ones. As I tried to make out what he was trying to say I found myself distracted, even just momentarily, from my pain and my confusion. I still didnt really know why I was there or what had happened. But I looked up at the kind faces of the three nurses and felt comforted.

When the ambulance reached the end of the runway, both the dying man and I were transferred onto the plane. Instead of the small seats youd find crammed together in a commercial plane, there were beds attached parallel to the wall. I was carefully placed on one. The nurses did everything they could to make me comfortable. When I was settled in, ready to go home, I finally felt warmthwhether from the blankets or the compassion, it didnt matter. I was cared for throughout the entire flight and then after a long time one of the nurses leaned down to me and said, Well be landing soon, so youll wake up in the hospital. He gave me a shot and I was out.

I woke up in a tiny hospital room. I didnt know where yet, but I saw the brightness of the fluorescent light streaming in from the hallway as the door opened slowly. I blinked as figures came into focus. I saw her first: petite frame, curly white hair, and glasses. It was my mom! My mom and dad were in the room. I was somewhere safe.

They were smiling, but I could see they were scared. And my immediate thought was, Smile so they know you are okay. I learned later that because my family had missed one of their flights, they arrived after midnight and there was no one to prepare them for what they would see, or tell them about the condition I was in.

The next few days are a painful, terrifying blur. One minute I would be sweating, the next freezing. I was either in pain or I was passed out. In the blink of an eye, I had gone from a fearless, strong soldier fighting a war to feeling like a helpless child. I had no idea how to react to where I was or what was happening to me. One minute I was angry and the next I was overcome with emotion and crying. I cried a lot. I have never been so scared.

Those first few days in Walter Reed Army Medical Center, in Washington, D.C., were more terrifying than anything I encountered in Iraq. Each time I was deployed I had accepted that I could die. I prepared myself to die in Iraq. It never crossed my mind that I could wake up in a hospital bed severely injured. We had already lost some of the guys in my company. They werent injured, they were killed, and we had all accepted that risk. It wasnt supposed to go this way. I wasnt supposed to be writhing in pain in a hospital room in Washington, D.C. I was supposed to be still in Iraq or dead. There was no in between. I didnt know how to handle in between.

My fear was amplified each time I was taken out of that stiflingly small hospital room, because every time they came to get me, I was wheeled into another painful surgery. I was heavily medicated but that only took the edge off the pain and added to my confusion. I still didnt really know what was going on or what had happened to me. And now I was in and out of consciousness, so I couldnt get a firm grasp on reality. At one point on one of these trips to surgery, I remember grabbing my moms arm. I clutched on to her and begged her, Dont let them take me, please dont let them take me again.