Highs and Lows

I approach writing this post with great humility and with some trepidation. I am not a very talented writer and sometimes it is really hard to write how I feel. There are multiple purposes of this blog: 1) to communicate the extraordinary experiences that I am having with my family, 2) as a personal journal, and 3) to share the lessons that I am learning with whom ever wants to read about them. Some of these experiences my seem very personal. I struggle with sharing them but it is frequently therapeutic for me. Also, I don't want to forget and maybe they will serve to help someone else.

I find that more often than not, I am listening to my sister's music while I am writing. Her music inspires me and she is one of my many heros. If you, my reader, has never had the opportunity to listen to her music, you should check her out on Facebook and see what you are missing.

The past 48 hours have encompassed some of the lowest moments and the highest highs of my deployment. I share these experiences so that you can see the contrast and see what I have experienced and hopefully draw some lessons of your own.

It began Thursday morning with casualties arriving around 0430, after a brief interlude for lunch (that was considerate of the Taliban), there was a particular soldier who arrived to my team in extremis after sustaining an extremely severe injury. (You can tell how sick they are by how hard the helicopter lands. They nearly broke their landing gear.) He arrived and coded in the ATLS area (Advanced Trauma Life Support), we were able to get a heart beat back and after consultation with our neurosurgeon in Bagram we decided that his only chance was to aerovac him to Bagram where he would need to undergo massive brain surgery. At this point his chances of survival were slim, but we loaded him on a helicopter in a desperate attempt to save him. Due to his tenuous condition, I and my CRNA (anesthesiologist) flew with him. Three minutes into the 25 minute flight, his heart stopped again, we coded him again. I did chest compressions for the next 22 minutes until arriving at the ER in Bagram where he was pronounced dead. I resolved that I was not going to call him during the flight, and we would get him to Bagram. We did everything we could do, it just wasn't enough.

Upon return to Shank, I just didn't want to talk to anyone. I just wanted to be alone with my thoughts and my own prayers. I think of the mother, the father, and wife and children who lost their Dad. I could only pray that the Lord would let this guy know that I did everything I could. I reaffirmed my testimony that our Lord and Savior descended below all things, so that he would know how to succor his children in need. It wasn't the soldier who needed his aid, but it was the physician who needed healing at that moment.

I finally got to bed around midnight and an hour later we started taking casualties again. We were busy all night and I was able to get back to sleep around 0600. After a few hours of sleep, we were told that there were more casualties. There were three soldiers coming in, all with gun shot wounds. One was quickly deteriorating and the other two appeared stable. My partners took the severely wounded one while I would take care of the other two. Of my two, one was stable and the other had a nasty femur fracture.

After looking at their x-rays, I ran into a chaplain. The chaplain asked me if I was Major McMullin? "Yeah", I replied. "Are you a Mormon Elder?", he asked. "Uh, yeah". He proceeded to tell me that one of the soldiers under my care was a Mormon and wanted a priesthood blessing from a Mormon Elder. It was the one who was minimally injured. However, he was the one who watched two of his buddies die and performed life saving care for the one soldier now in the operating room. This soldier had been stationed at a remote location and was the only Mormon on his post. So there in the middle of the ICU and amidst the chaos, I was able to give my patient a priesthood blessing. It was a very spiritual experience. After the dust and chaos settled down a bit, the local serviceman's group leader and I were able to administer the sacrament to him. I will never forget how grateful he was to get that priesthood blessing, and how grateful I was that I was worthy to place my hands on this faithful brother's head and pronounce a blessing from his Father in Heaven upon him. I rededicated myself to always living worthily to be able at a moments notice, be an instrument in the hand's of the Lord to do bless his children.

That evening as I sat by his bedside, we talked about Captain Moroni from the Book of Mormon. Who led his people during a time of war against the Lamanites. How was it that they were able to maintain their spirituality during that time of strife? To such a degree that Mormon was able to decree that "there never was a happier time among the people of Nephi..." (Alma 50:23). We talked about Moroni (the son of Mormon) who witness the destruction of his people. Many times we overlook that this likely included brothers, sisters, maybe a spouse and children. Yet, he was able to carry on and perform the important work that the Lord had for him. The Book of Mormon was written by warriors.

This experience was one of the highs of the past several weeks, and it really helped me overcome the sadness from the previous night to be able to serve this brother. (There is your hint to the answer for my previous question.) I am so grateful for this opportunity.