Lee

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The plane ride to Germany was shitty. But what could I expect? I was strapped to a bed, my arms loaded with IV’s, oxygen running into my nose, and my missing ankle and calf were fucking killing me. What was the point of complaining though? It wasn’t like they could give me anything for pain. How did you treat something that didn’t actually exist?

“Corporal, is everything okay?”

Now why the fuck would anybody ask me that? What did they expect me to say? Oh yeah, all is fantastic over here. I’m just all fiddle-dee-fucking-doo. I didn’t bother to answer. Instead, I gave the guy a thumbs up, saving him from my sarcastic reply. It wasn’t his fault I was here. And he was only doing his job. I would seriously have to do my best to hold in my asshole remarks.

Too bad we hit every damn bit of turbulence in the air that night. If someone had asked me if I wanted a hammer to the head, I would’ve gladly taken it. Put me out of my misery. My hearing had been damaged by the blast. But the noise inside this metal tube was making me batshit psycho. Clanking, beeping, grinding, wheezing, whining, and the list went on and on. I was ready to jump out of my skin.

“Corporal, I’m going to give you a push of something in your IV to relax you.”

“That obvious, huh?”

“It’s common on these flights,” was the response.

“The noise. It’s …” I shook my head.

“Yeah. Bad, I know. You get used to it after awhile.” The medic smiled at me. At least someone had something to grin about.

A few minutes later, my nerves evened out. Whatever he gave me worked super fast and it was a good thing. Psychotic Lee was gone for now.

“Corporal Marston?”

“Yeah. That’s me.”

“Feeling any better?”

Nodding, I added, “Call me Lee. I figure if you’re nice enough to give me some liquid harmony, we might as well be on a first name basis. What’s yours?”

“Jerry. Good to meet you, except I honestly wish it was under better circumstances.”

“Makes two of us. But you just did me a solid, Jerry, and I appreciate that.”

“Just trying to be good at my job and keeping an eye on my patients is one of them. And talk about a solid—what you did for your guys out there was really something. And sorry, but it’s in your record here. I want you to know how proud I am to know you.” He actually saluted me even though I’m pretty sure he outranked me.

I tipped my head and half-smiled.

“So, Lee, where’s home?”

“Ah, it’s a small town in the south. I doubt you’ve ever heard of it.”

“Try me,” he prodded.

“You asked. Drummond. You guess the state.” Whatever he gave me was making me so sleepy, I could barely keep my eyes open.

“Liquid harmony getting to you, huh?”

“Uh huh. Sorry to conk out on you, man, but I’m gonna take a little snooze.” And I didn’t wake up until Jerry shook me.

“Hey Lee, we landed and we’re going to wheel you off momentarily. I just wanted to give you a heads up.”

“What’d you give me? That stuff was a miracle worker.”

He grinned and said, “It’s my special cocktail for anxious patients.” Then he patted my shoulder. “And I want to tell you, even though you don’t believe it, things are going to work out just fine for you. Keep your chin up, my friend.”

“Will do.” But what I really wanted to say was—I’ll believe you when damn pigs can fly. “Oh, Virginia.”

“What?”

“Drummond, Virginia. My home.”

“Ha. Gotcha.”

Jerry unlocked the mechanisms that held the gurney in place during flight and two servicemen came to wheel me down the ramp in the back of the plane. It was a dismal day here in Germany, not a very welcoming sight. But what did it matter? I would be stuck inside for days, if not weeks. I’d heard about what other people went through after these types of injuries. Months of rehab and the PTSD to deal with. But hey, I was alive, wasn’t I? Ooo-fucking-rah for me.

Closing my eyes, I tried to focus on better days. Family always made me smile, especially my little brother and his constant barrage of questions whenever we Skyped. God, I loved that kid. He was going to be crushed by this. I had to stay positive just for him.

My bumpy gurney ride finally ended when I was transferred to a normal sized hospital bed, complete with all the bells and whistles. The first thing I did was raise the head and push down the blankets. I’m not sure what I expected—a furry bunny to hop out with a smile and a bouquet of daisies that included a get-well card? What I got instead was stark reality—a leg minus a foot and ankle that ended at mid-calf. The huge bandage wrapped around my knee and extended to the end of what used to be the rest of my leg. But what shocked me just as much was my right leg. It was wrapped in gauze that was seeped with blood. Not just on the lower part but almost up to my groin. I hadn’t thought how severe this could be. Was there a possibility of losing this leg too?

I wanted to run far, far away. But wasn’t that the joke? I couldn’t even walk. And all of this because of a stupid Coke can. I clasped my hands together to stop them from shaking. Jesus C, I was losing it. Deep breaths, Lee.

One, two, three, four, five, six. Exhale slowly. Repeat.

And then it hit. A full-blown anxiety attack. Jerry’s mystery cocktail must’ve worn off because I was crawling out of my skin, hyperventilating, my face going numb. I couldn’t process a solitary thought and the worst part of it all—I was alone. My pharynx was closing off, and the more I tried to suck in air, the tighter it got. My ears were buzzing like a fucking hive of angry hornets as my vision grew spotty.

A nurse walked into my room, and she must’ve figured out what was happening. Was this an everyday event here? She ran out and came back with someone else and something was pushed into my IV. It didn’t take long for it to calm me down. Maybe Jerry’s cocktail? I didn’t care by then; I was just happy it worked.

The doctor, or at least that’s who I thought it was said, “Keep her on two milligrams of lorazepam.” Then he turned to me and said, “Corporal Marston, I’m Dr. Wyatt. Do you mind if I call you Lilou?”

I was still a bit addled and regaining my composure. “Lee. Call me Lee,” I said, still breathless. “No one calls me Lilou except my family.”

He made a harrumph sound for whatever reason, I don’t know. “Lee it is. So, then, we’re scheduling you for surgery to get your right leg fixed up then. I’m reviewing everything, and we want to get an MRI and maybe a CT if necessary. We have all the X-rays and tests from Bagram. But our equipment is much better. I also want to look at your left leg just to make sure everything looks good there.”

“I thought I didn’t have a left leg.”

“You have quite a bit of a left leg, Lee. From what I read, you’re very lucky. And what you did for your fellow soldiers. You saved your fellow soldiers’ lives, you know. No one even saw the IED but you.”

“How do you know this?”

“It’s right here.”

He held up my chart, so it must’ve been noted there.

“Lee, we get a lot of wounded warriors in here, as I’m sure you can imagine, so when someone like yourself comes in, we find out everything we can about him or her. We owe it to soldiers such as you. You’re out there risking your lives for your fellow man and you proved that by what you did. That takes more than courage. It takes a heart of gold and the soul of a warrior. That’s what you are, Lee. Now rest easy. We’re going to do our very best to get you out of here and on your way stateside to recuperate. But we want to get you back there in the best shape we can. We’re going to do you right. You understand me?”

“Yes, sir.”

He gently squeezed my shoulder and walked out of the room. The nurse told me to press the button any time if I needed anything.

The next week was muddled in my head. It was filled with scans and surgery. Not one, but three. One on the left leg to complete what had been started in the mobile hospital and two on the right. After four weeks at Ramstein, I was transferred to Walter Reed National Military Medical Center in Bethesda, Maryland.

My parents met me there. Mom cried and cried and Dad did too. I was too numb to do anything. They stayed for a week and returned to Drummond while I endured yet another surgery on my right leg. The IED had done extensive damage to my femur and quad so a lot of repair was necessary, but I got to keep my right leg. After the final surgery, I had to go through rehab and learn to walk again. Both legs had atrophied from being in bed for all those weeks, so I had a tough road ahead and wasn’t looking forward to it.