My apologies for not posting this month, this has been a very long, trying month for me.
Today is Halloween. The wonderful opportunity for everyone to dress up as something scary, or their favorite comic book hero, or as someone they admire. Today I have seen witches, ninjas, Captain America, fairies, and Jessie from Toy Story. You have to admit, and I don't care how old you are, but we all miss dressing up and trick-or-treating. I miss going to my grandparents' house and getting homemade popcorn balls, and the flavored tootsie rolls. I miss church Halloween activities, and going to school to be in the parade held every year on the playground. I miss it all.
Today I decided to dress up as my hero. I dug out some ACU pants, boots, the tan t-shirt, the old yucky socks, and the webbed belt. I always knew that PJ was tall and skinny, but I never knew exactly how tall and how skinny. Fitting into these pants was hell, but fun. Fitting in the boots however, I could have worn at least 3 more pairs of socks, and still had room! And in case you didn't know, the military (at least the Army) has a very distinct smell. Not a bad smell, but a unique smell. For those of you wives in the military that do the laundry, you know exactly what smell I am referring to. So today, I have been bathed in a smell that I have missed for what seems like an eternity. I can't describe what that brings me back to.
After spending a very average day, walking around in some pretty big shoes, I have learned several things. The first, you can't wait until the last possible minute to go potty. There are no zippers in these pants. Buttons and velcro only. Do not be fooled by its practicality. Only the bravest of the bravest wear these trousers.
Truthfully, after wearing just half of a uniform today, I can do nothing but have respect for what burden the American soldier must carry in order to protect this country. Each and every piece of this uniform plays an important part in how a soldier does his or her job. Each pocket to hold any number of things, whether it is just a patrol cap, or a handkerchief to wipe their brow with in the desert heat. Each pair of boots, to project the feet of someone who has trained themselves to walk for an eternity, no matter what the terrain. Heavy boots that any normal person wouldn't have the leg strength to carry around. No stopping to deal with blisters, or a slipped sock. Just marching along, doing a job that they promised to do. I have treated my feet badly over the last few years, not on purpose. However, I'm fairly certain that given the opportunity, my feet would disown me. Especially after today. I managed to make myself wear those boots all day, and I can't imagine what 8 hours of pain to me, translates into 24 hours of wear and tear on the feet of a soldier.
This might be one of my more rambling posts, but I just miss my PJ. I dressed up to be close to him. I had so much fun doing it. But spending the day in his uniform, and trying to walk around in his boots, has made me feel so close to him that it's like I can touch him. It's a feeling that I know everyone has about the person they love, but we all recognize it in different ways.
Time to go scrub this paint off of my face. And miss my PJ. And cuddle my doggies. And miss my PJ. Oh, and miss my PJ.
Hope everyone had a wonderful time taking their kiddies trick-or-treating! Good night!!
Monday, October 31, 2011
Saturday, October 1, 2011
Day 49 - Missing My Medic
So.... I have got to give these feet a break.
Let's go back a ways. Six years ago, to be more specific. PJ and I were married six months and we decided to have the first crisis of our marriage. Well it wasn't a decision, not a shared one at least. Not even a personal decision. Just something dumb on my part. I seem to have a knack for dumb. This particular dumb was a great big step on a great big piece of glass. I cut through most of my big toe, and nearly cut my other toe off! I remember very well going to the hospital, and the blood, and the stitches, and PJ. Oh I remember PJ the best. He was the fastest, clean the blood up off the floor, and get us down the stairs the quickest, little PJ that there ever was.
PJ didn't used to be the type of person who was okay with going to the doctor. Matter of fact, I'm fairly certain he'd rather croak than go to the doctor. What surprised me the most, was how involved PJ was while we were there. I remember PJ holding my hand, and holding my foot down for the P.A., and laughing at me while I was in la-la land. He stayed that night with me at my parent's house, and waited on me hand and foot. After being held hostage at home for five days, I thought it would be nice to get out. When we got up the next morning, PJ announced to me that he was going to join the Army. So my first day out of captivity, we made that big decision. When PJ came home from MEPS and told me that he was going to be a Combat Medic, I can't explain how excited I was. To have my own personal medic.... Every girl's dream.
Fast forward to now. Well two days ago, now. On a routine Thursday morning, fifteen minutes before I was going to leave, on an absolutely normal morning, I cut my foot open. On a doggy deshedder. You know, one of those rakes that you use to pull the loose hair off your dog. Katie knocked it off the shelf, and it fell onto the stairs. Then I stepped on it. LIKE AN IDIOT. Now I have an inch long, into the fat, just above the ball of the foot where the arch starts, slightly curved cut. After shaking my head in shame, I got a towel and covered it up. Right at that moment, I realized how much I missed my PJ. I wished that he wasn't on the other side of the world, but at home springing into action to take care of me. I know he would have been all too happy to take care of my cut. I know that PJ is a skilled medic, and it would be wonderful to see him at work. Unfortunately this time, I had to let the doctor stitch me up. And boy did she have a good laugh at my expense. A good, shake your head, hand on the hip, kind of laugh. Fortunately, after four excruciating shots of Lidocaine, four stitches, and five steri-strips, I went to work.
All that aside, nothing makes me miss PJ more than when I don't feel good. I miss PJ all the time, and he's always on my mind. When I'm in the car, when I watch TV, when I cuddle the doggies, when I sleep. He's always there. I can smell him, and I can hear him talking and laughing while he plays Call of Duty. I can hear him meowing and giggling.
I think I'll stop now. The dogs need their mommy, and this girl needs to soak in a nice hot bath, foot included. So without further delay, this accident prone dumb Andy is signing off!
Andy
PS - A bit of my conversation with PJ about this whole dumb thing... Me: You're missing out on an opportunity to possibly do stitches on my foot. Love you!... PJ: Damn, well we can amputate it when I get home.... Love my medic!!
Let's go back a ways. Six years ago, to be more specific. PJ and I were married six months and we decided to have the first crisis of our marriage. Well it wasn't a decision, not a shared one at least. Not even a personal decision. Just something dumb on my part. I seem to have a knack for dumb. This particular dumb was a great big step on a great big piece of glass. I cut through most of my big toe, and nearly cut my other toe off! I remember very well going to the hospital, and the blood, and the stitches, and PJ. Oh I remember PJ the best. He was the fastest, clean the blood up off the floor, and get us down the stairs the quickest, little PJ that there ever was.
PJ didn't used to be the type of person who was okay with going to the doctor. Matter of fact, I'm fairly certain he'd rather croak than go to the doctor. What surprised me the most, was how involved PJ was while we were there. I remember PJ holding my hand, and holding my foot down for the P.A., and laughing at me while I was in la-la land. He stayed that night with me at my parent's house, and waited on me hand and foot. After being held hostage at home for five days, I thought it would be nice to get out. When we got up the next morning, PJ announced to me that he was going to join the Army. So my first day out of captivity, we made that big decision. When PJ came home from MEPS and told me that he was going to be a Combat Medic, I can't explain how excited I was. To have my own personal medic.... Every girl's dream.
Fast forward to now. Well two days ago, now. On a routine Thursday morning, fifteen minutes before I was going to leave, on an absolutely normal morning, I cut my foot open. On a doggy deshedder. You know, one of those rakes that you use to pull the loose hair off your dog. Katie knocked it off the shelf, and it fell onto the stairs. Then I stepped on it. LIKE AN IDIOT. Now I have an inch long, into the fat, just above the ball of the foot where the arch starts, slightly curved cut. After shaking my head in shame, I got a towel and covered it up. Right at that moment, I realized how much I missed my PJ. I wished that he wasn't on the other side of the world, but at home springing into action to take care of me. I know he would have been all too happy to take care of my cut. I know that PJ is a skilled medic, and it would be wonderful to see him at work. Unfortunately this time, I had to let the doctor stitch me up. And boy did she have a good laugh at my expense. A good, shake your head, hand on the hip, kind of laugh. Fortunately, after four excruciating shots of Lidocaine, four stitches, and five steri-strips, I went to work.
All that aside, nothing makes me miss PJ more than when I don't feel good. I miss PJ all the time, and he's always on my mind. When I'm in the car, when I watch TV, when I cuddle the doggies, when I sleep. He's always there. I can smell him, and I can hear him talking and laughing while he plays Call of Duty. I can hear him meowing and giggling.
I think I'll stop now. The dogs need their mommy, and this girl needs to soak in a nice hot bath, foot included. So without further delay, this accident prone dumb Andy is signing off!
Andy
PS - A bit of my conversation with PJ about this whole dumb thing... Me: You're missing out on an opportunity to possibly do stitches on my foot. Love you!... PJ: Damn, well we can amputate it when I get home.... Love my medic!!
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