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November 02, 2006
Our Lost Humanity
This morning I was disturbed by a piece in the New York Times. I think I was too close to the subject. Sometimes a writer reaches for the mark and just fails to convey what she feels inside.
But Raven did that, so much better than I could ever hope to, in two killer posts. The first describes a well-intentioned visit to a wounded ward. Oddly, I didn't see the Times article as malicious. In fact, I saw empathy there, for Petty Officer Kirby, for his anger, his pain, his confusion.
But I also thought it betrayed a stunning self-absorption, a failure to think about how what one was doing might impact others, and more than anything else, a complacent assumption that someone else's suffering is some kind of spectacle that is, or ought to be, on display and not respectfully allowed a little space, to let them cope with what most of us would find almost impossible to endure. Is our "right to know" really so all-fired important?
Can we not find it within our hearts to grant them some small space:
Once the women left, one of the soldiers let out a big sigh of relief. He looked at me, and used his communication board to spell out, very slowly:SHE embarrassed ME. DON’T LET IT HAPPEN AGAIN.
And I won’t. I promised him.
The science of healing, recovering, from severe injuries is a private matter. Those who have been wounded need time, space, respect, privacy as well as the nursing care. The pressure of having pain, memory problems, extreme disablity is bad enough to deal with. The emotional turmoil of these soldiers is ever present. They don’t need people they don’t know showing up, while they are in the process of this recovery. to gawk and gasp and google over them. It’s a matter of dignity.
I think it was this which made me so angry this morning. All my life there has only been one thing which will reliably make me come out swinging: the sight of someone I think is helpless (even temporarily) being abused. And in the throes of grief or overmastering emotion we are all temporarily at the mercy of those more detached, more objective, than ourselves. Raven wrote another piece this morning:
Recently I linked to an article about doctors taking extreme steps to save severely wounded Marines in Iraq. I linked to this story because I was fascinated with the medical aspects- and I was blinded to the fact that this article named the soldier in the story, who died as a result of his injuries.
If you think the NYT piece was graphic, it's nothing compared to the one Raven mentions. I cannot begin to imagine being a bereaved family member and happening upon that while surfing the web.
Why does this haunt me so? Perhaps because I can never forget the sight of a new widow as she heard that awful news, as she reeled with shock; first angry, then sagging under a load of sadness that would crush giants.
Then just stunned.
And then the tears come again. And again. They will never be far from her side, during the coming months. They will spring, unwanted, to her eyes at awkward moments. They will make her head ache and her eyes get puffy. Like a spring rain, sometimes they will clear away the fog, leaving everything temporarily new and hopeful again.
Until the next storm rolls in.
I suppose I simply think a civilized society has no right to intrude on pain like that. These people have already given us their all.
And yet we, the whole, the undamaged, seem to expect them to do the adjusting.
Posted by Cassandra at November 2, 2006 04:29 PM
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Comments
Thank you for the link Cass!!
You made me think about my own doings on this issue. I had been reading articles here and there recently about wounded troops in the battlefield...always looking at those nursing/medical things that so catch my attention. And not seeing the HUMAN side of this.
The names of the wounded and dead- seem to get lost in these articles to all- except for those who loved them and cherished their life. To share the gory details of their death is INHUMANE and UNETHICAL of the NYT, the AP and other MSM. They should be ashamed but I doubt they are.
Posted by: Raven at November 2, 2006 06:28 PM
I remember Ft. DeRussy on Waikiki Beach, Oahu, HI., in the 60's with the troops on R&R trying to be normal for a week or so with our loved ones. We all knew it was temporary and that too many times the goodbye's were forever.
Dignity, Patience, and Support!
The pain is not a spectator sport!
Posted by: vet66 at November 2, 2006 06:46 PM
Got that right their pain is not a spectator sport.
As someone who spends time with our wounded just hours/days after their injuries I found Raven's post deeply disturbing.
I am often asked how I can "stand it". Yes, afterwards I have detailed pictures in my mind that will stay with me forever. But while I am with them... it's difficult to describe and may sound odd... but at that moment I never feel upset or repulsed. I just feel love.
No, this is not a spectator sport. Please keep people like that away from our guys when they get back home.
Posted by: MaryAnn at November 2, 2006 07:55 PM
...but at that moment I never feel upset or repulsed. I just feel love.
Oddly enough I used to worry more about my nephew when I didn't get to see him for a while. When I'd get into the hospital, even though it was invariably a shock to see him so thin, in pain, so sick he couldn't keep anything down or just wired up to so many damned IVs he looked like a cyborg. I could deal with that just fine. I felt calmer when I could see him right in front of me.
I used to cry every day when I didn't see him, and then I was so afraid that I'd break down when I went to visit. But oddly I never did, not once.
When you see the grace someone else displays in dealing with that kind of adversity there is no room for your own petty discomforts.
Posted by: Cassandra at November 2, 2006 08:08 PM
Sheesh. Y'all could tell a person when her post is full of typos.
I'm exhausted.
Posted by: Cassandra at November 2, 2006 08:12 PM
Well, lady hostess, you have had an emotionally trying day; not the right time for the great unwashed to raise trivialities.
You might beat us...and we might like it...and...
(hurried retreat)
Posted by: socialism_is_error at November 2, 2006 08:25 PM
"I suppose I simply think a civilized society has no right to intrude on pain like that."
I imagine it goes without saying that I agree entirely; but let me say it anyway. I agree entirely.
Posted by: Grim at November 2, 2006 10:40 PM
You might beat us...and we might like it...and...
*start running*
You, and Menace. Why, I oughta...
Good nite ladies and gentlemen. I am going to bed.
Posted by: Cassandra at November 2, 2006 10:54 PM
Ya'll need to go read Blackfive. He posted the NTY article and he, and the commenters, have a TOTALLY different take on it.
very interesting.
Posted by: AFSister at November 2, 2006 11:30 PM
Christian Science Monitor wrote a piece about the Marine liasons at Bethesda published Oct. 2.
Raven's post about the "ladies" reminded me of a quote from one of the Liasons about deflecting a celebrity wishing to visit a "sleeping" patient.
"This is not a petting zoo."
Posted by: Carrie at November 3, 2006 07:39 AM
I can only add this: When I was forced to be in a hospital for at least a week, the one thing that really really made me mad were the phone calls. Especially after surgery.
'petting zoo...'
I have some Barney videos...
*runs really really fast*
Posted by: Cricket at November 3, 2006 08:06 AM
Every day in the S&S I read the casrep. Seems like the least I can do. Try and remember that every casrep has a name associated with it. Name of a favored son or daughter, wife, husband, father, mother. Do it every day for two reasons. One because I can't be there in uniform (too old-HQMC told me back in 01 that I was classified 8-I) and two to remember the worst time of my life when (then)LCpl Son USMCR was with 2/11 manning a 50 cal on top of a hummer when not carrying a SAW during the invasion. He came home. Others don't. Someone should be reading their names, so I do. Just to make sure.
Posted by: LtCol USMC(Ret) at November 3, 2006 09:32 AM
I understand, Lt Col USMC(Ret). If I am at the hospital when the ambus arrives I always go to watch. I believe it is my duty to bear witness to the sacrifices being made for all of us. It is also an honor and a privilege. They bless us with their presence.
And no, Cassandra, there are no tears at that moment. Later, when I'm alone, but not then.
Posted by: MaryAnn at November 3, 2006 07:26 PM