After the Smoke Clears



Fig. 18.1
Inpatient room at the Concussion Care Center . FOB Shank, Afghanistan, 2012 (Courtesy of CPT Shannon Merkle, OT)



I run the Concussion Care Center for the 173d Airborne Brigade Combat Team (ABCT) area of operations (AO). This morning we had expected to be able to finalize the discharge plans for our one remaining Service Member (SM). The well-being of Sergeant (SGT) Castro (the Occupational Therapy Assistant who runs the CCC with me) and the Service Member in our care dominate my convoluted thoughts. We take indirect mortar and rocket propelled grenade fire (IDF) regularly here, and initially I assumed that this incident was more of the same. However, as I try to resist the fog that has invaded my mind, I realize that something more significant is happening.

I find the Service Member I’m looking for in the bunker nearest my clinic—he appears to be allright, but no SGT Castro. Someone informs me he’s at the Concussion Care Center looking for me. I walk the short distance to the Concussion Care Center and find SGT Castro inside the damaged tent. Somehow, I end up back inside the bunker; SGT Castro standing beside me.

Our Service Member and several Afghanistan interpreters who live in the tent beside ours are also in the bunker. Ironically, it is not fear that I feel, but rather relief that SGT Castro and the other Service Member are allright. A wave of nausea washes over me, interrupting my slowed thoughts. I think I’m going to vomit, but no such relief comes. My head is pounding, and I begin to notice the ache in my back and neck. My thoughts are murky and disjointed as I try to make some sense out of what just happened.

I have no real concept of time. I wonder how long we’ve been in the bunker, but apparently it hasn’t been long when I hear, “BREACH!” I look at SGT Castro. What is he saying? I’m getting frustrated trying to make my brain assign meaning to the conversations and chaos around me. “We’re being breached,” he says to me and takes off running back toward Charlie Company, toward the perimeter.

I don’t specifically remember heading to the perimeter but I’m here now—full battle gear and M16A2 in hand. I see Service Members and local nationals stumbling all over the place. I notice Service Members standing on the Hesco walls at the perimeter pulling security.

Those who were roused from bed (night duty and special operations forces) are dressed in some combination of boxers, shorts, and flip flops while wearing their Improved Outer Tactical Vests (IOTVs) and Kevlars. The rest are in more traditional military gear. The perimeter (including the large hole in the perimeter) has already been secured.

“Captain! Captain!” A local national approaches me. He is dressed in primarily white attire, which contrasts starkly with the blood and dirt covering him. “My brother, my brother,” he adamantly repeats and points toward the hole in the perimeter wall. He is pointing toward a group of “Haji Shops” (small shops owned by locals) along the inside of the perimeter. I follow his gaze and for the first time start to take in the destruction around me. The shops on the perimeter are in ruins. Alpha, Bravo, and most of Charlie Company living quarters are destroyed. Debris is scattered everywhere. The Charlie Company medical area is badly damaged. The structures that used to comprise the Forward Surgical Team area and the Combat Stress Center (CSC) have been destroyed. Charlie Company is busy consolidating resources, triaging casualties, and trying to pull survivors (and the dead) from the rubble. The medical evacuation landing zone is the new triage area.

One US contractor and three local Afghans died in the vehicle born improvised explosive device (VBIED) blast that day. Over the next several hours, more than 108 casualties were treated at Charlie Medical Company and at least 38 people were evacuated to Bagram Air Field [1]; others followed over the next couple weeks. Most of those evacuated from Forward Operating Base (FOB) Shank left theater for additional care. Some who were evacuated to Bagram tried to return to duty on our Forward Operating Base, but many were unable to continue working effectively there and returned stateside for further care.

I was in the Combat Stress Center (CSC) finalizing travel plans to a remote outpost with a member of the Combat Stress Team (CST) , when the VBIED was detonated. Five other Service Members (most of them members of the CST) were in the CSC with me at the moment of detonation. We were 75–100 meters from the point of detonation. Most of us sustained relatively minor orthopedic injuries and concussions. TSgt Kay was evacuated from theater approximately 1 week after the blast and later medically discharged from the military. CPT Gardner transferred off FOB Shank and finished his tour at Bagram. The rest of us were treated, recovered in place, and returned to full duty within a couple weeks .



18.2 Situational Context


I am an Army Occupational Therapist (OT). I have more than 17 years of clinical experience. I enlisted in the Army in 1999 and have been involved in some capacity, whether as a reservist or an active duty service member, since then. In 2012, I deployed to Afghanistan as an individual augmentee, which means I did not deploy as a part of a unit. Like many of my health care peers, I was needed to provide health care services that were not a normal function of the unit I was deploying to support.

I spent just under 9 months in Regional Command East, Afghanistan as the Officer in Charge (OIC) of the Concussion Care Center (CCC) on FOB Shank. I was allowed one Occupational Therapy Assistant (OTA) to help me run the center. SGT Castro and SSG Werner worked with me during the first 4 and the last 5 months, respectively. Our Concussion Care Center was one of 6 CCCs in the region. Although attached to three different commands at various times during my deployment (3rd Infantry Brigade Combat Team, 1st Armored Division (3/1 AD), the 173d Airborne Brigade Combat Team (173d ABCT) , and the 30th MEDCOM), I was consistently co-located with the medical company of the corresponding support battalion (Charlie, 125th Brigade Support Battalion & Charlie, 173d ABCT) on FOB Shank.

FOB Shank had the capacity to provide Level II medical care. We treated primarily service members (Air Force, Navy, and Army), but also treated some contractors and detainees.

We were not a large medical center like that found at Bagram, but we had significant trauma surgical assets, air and ground medical evacuation assets, an outpatient clinic , an inpatient holding/treatment area, and limited radiographic capabilities. In addition to the surgeons, physicians, physician assistants, nurses, and medics we also had a physical therapist, an occupational therapist, and two clinical psychologists. US Forces shared the Forward Operating Base with international forces, including those from the Czech Republic, Jordan, and Afghanistan . Health care providers from Jordan, Afghanistan interpreters, and a few US health care providers were our closest “tent” neighbors.

The Afghanistan interpreters were courageous, hard-working, and friendly. It was not unusual for them to invite SGT Castro and I to their tent for Chai tea. I went several times with him intending to build rapport and learn more about their culture, but also realized the need to maintain an emotional and professional boundary. Although I appreciated and respected their efforts, I also recognized the inherent danger and vulnerable nature of their position. Additionally, given the cultural considerations of Afghanistan, we felt that male interaction was the most appropriate and respectful way to build professional rapport with the interpreters (all males). Since we had the capability to employ both male (SGT Castro) and female (myself) influences, we leveraged this quality, in addition to other personal and professional strengths, to care for those who were injured. Balancing each other in this way, SGT Castro and I were able to more effectively fulfill our responsibilities.

Our Concussion Care Center was initially responsible for the potential care of more than 3000 Service Members stationed at approximately 17 outposts in RC-East, Afghanistan . As the larger war strategy at that time was to train Afghanistan forces and transition security responsibilities to them, many of the outposts in our region were gradually closing or transitioning to Afghan control. The majority of our concussed patients were male, but we also treated some female Service Members. Although we were primarily tasked with concussion care, it was not unusual to also provide orthopedic/wound care services within our capabilities. In fact, Charlie, 173d ABCT supported and assisted our effort to add a small plywood room to the front of our tent so that we could also treat Service Members with orthopedic injuries which has been further described elsewhere [2].

We lived and worked primarily in a General Purpose Medium Tents, which are 16′ × 32′ canvas tents, built to allow heat delivery via a generator. Our tent served both as our concussion care center and our home. Like most tents on our FOB , it had plywood partitions that served to provide some privacy to those who stayed there. Our Concussion Care Center had an inpatient capacity of 12 Service Members, plus 1 Occupational Therapist and 1 Occupational Therapy Assistant. The Occupational Therapy Assistant and I lived with the Service Members we were treating. Thus, in addition to working with them during the day, we lived with their restlessness, their nightmares, their anger, their fear, their determination, their courage, and their resolve to return to their units. Their steadfast resolve to return to the fight was one of many examples of their unrelenting spirit in the face of adversity.

The unique environment afforded us opportunities for impromptu “chats.” These were sometimes as therapeutic for recovering Service Members as was the acute concussion management . At times, we simply sat quietly together outside the tent. More often, we would sit, talk, and smoke. SGT Castro was, like many of our patients, a cigar aficionado. He frequently took advantage of this commonality to build rapport with patients and other Service Members. Ironically, his love of cigars (combined with his calm demeanor and good listening skills) was an invaluable rapport- and trust-building asset. Although not a smoker myself, and not an advocate for smoking, I sometimes joined in their “smoke-shack therapy ” (a term coined by a former, Army OTA) (Fig. 18.2). Considering the environment in which we lived and worked, it seemed pointless to lecture them on the long-term health risks of smoking. Rather, I (as many of my nonsmoking health care peers) decided to join them and make the most of this therapeutic opportunity.
Jun 25, 2017 | Posted by in PSYCHOLOGY | Comments Off on After the Smoke Clears

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