Better Than Sex

This is a continuation of post Suicide is Painless, below


I went to college and joined the premed program. I loved both biology and chemistry. I had a problem with both areas in choosing one for a major. I'd tested out of Anatomy and Physiology. Biology was too easy. It's black and white, either it is or it isn't. But it dealt with life and all that that entails. Chemistry was too cold and dealt with inanimate things, chemicals. I know, I'll combine the love for both and major in biochemistry! Boy, did I underestimate that! Now, instead of simple hydrocarbons, I was breaking down cholesterol molecules and complex proteins. Even though it was very complex and difficult, I loved it. I was learning about DNA, genomes and life! Part way through full time college, I began to tire of the whole college life. I was wanting a change. Although I loved my studies, something was missing. I dropped out of college and joined the Army and signed on as a Special Forces Medic.

Medical training, for the Armed Forces is done in San Antonio, Texas. That meant I could come home to Dallas, every weekend. It was also my first exposure to coed training. The early medical courses were extremely simple and are meant for students with higher aptitudes but little or no knowledge of the human body. One day, after explaining how blood flowed through the heart, one of the instructors nicknamed me, Doctor Faris. And anytime I was called on to answer a question, I was referred to as such. I remember one occasion, we were studying vital signs and how to palpate the carotid pulse. The instructor asked, “Who knows what palpate means?” I raised my hand and was called on. “Palpate means to feel.” I answered. “Very good, Dr. Faris. I'll bet you've palpated many girls in your time, eh?” Everyone laughed, including me. I was having fun. Medicine was everything I thought it would be and I was getting hands on experience. The advanced course for Special Forces involved more intense training, including surgery, trauma management and even some dentistry. It was an exhaustive course cramming all of pretty much a PA goes through into six months. It may have changed now. And the attrition rate was very high. Four of us out of thirty-six graduated. I felt very proud to be one of those four.

When I was first stationed in Korea, I worked at the local health clinic, pulling sick call and helping where I could. The unit was out in the field for Team Spirit and so the crew was skeleton. One day, I had a soldier come in with a foot injury. An artillery spade had been dropped on his foot. It was swollen and red. I ordered X-rays and took a look. I saw that he had had a previous fracture of the third metatarsal, but no new fractures. I noted this on the X-ray slip. My assessment was soft tissue injury. I gave him a prescription for Motrin (It wasn't OTC back then), and some chemical ice packs and explained about elevation and later heat. And began to send him on his way, when the X-ray tech came out of his room and told me, “Only a physician can sign off on an X-ray slip.” I said, “Okay”, and we both went to see the attending physician. I presented the case to him, what I saw and what my plan of treatment was. He looked at the X-ray, and then the slip. He then signed the slip, handed it to the X-ray tech, looked at me and said, “I agree with your assessment, Doctor”, I told him I was just a medic and he said, “I know. We don't get many like you. Most do the bare minimum.” He extended his hand and said, “I'm Jeff” I shook it, “Specialist Faris, Sir.” I replied. He rolled his eyes and asked, “What's your first name?” “Mike”, I answered. “Well Mike, it's good to meet you. Call me Jeff. You don't have to bother with that officer crap around here.” I thought to myself, “I like this place.”
There were several Docs in Korea that took me under their wing and taught me everything from diagnosing and treating asthmatics to tying one handed knots.

A few months later, I met an Anesthesiologist, by the name of George. He was a Major and worked at 121st Army Hospital in Seoul. He used to invite me down for the weekend when he was on-call and I could help him with with surgical cases they got over the weekend. I was delighted. He taught me about the different types of blocks, how to determine a patient's level of consciousness. He also introduced me to the other surgeons. When they were told about my background they started letting me assist them on cases. I was on cloud nine. After a couple of months, on one night in particular, a surgeon invited me to assist him on an appendectomy. There were always several people observing and learning like me in the OR. This particular surgeon was a Colonel, a natural teacher and loved instructing interested persons on surgical techniques. I was his number one fan and student. This night, we were standing in position, awaiting the go ahead from George. The Colonel looked at me and asked how many 'appys' I had assisted him on. I replied, “Around nine or ten.” “Well, then”, he started, “What is the primary cut and entry for this procedure?” “Lower right quadrant, approximately 2 inches in length and diagonal, parallel to the iliac crest.” I answered. “Good”, he said, “Then, if you don't mind, I'll assist YOU on this one.” I was in shock. He stepped back and we exchanged places at the table. He then looked at George and said, “Are we ready, George?” George replied, “Anytime you're ready, Dr. Faris” My eyes widened and I shot a look to George. I could tell he was smiling and proud behind his mask. Looked back to the field, asked for the knife and I began my cut. (I won't go into the details of the procedure)
Afterward, when we were cleaning up, the Colonel said I did a very good job. He asked me how I felt about it and what did I think. I told him, “It was better than sex, Sir” He smiled and replied, “Call me, John.”