Stories from Iraq

First of all, thanks for all your well-wishes on Turkey Day. It's a tough time to be away from home, especially since my honey was under the weather. I can't cook, but I sure can make up some chicken soup in an emergency. Get better soon, please.

Next, I just wanted to share a quick story from the cover of the Army Times today. As you know, we are helping rebuild Iraq so they can defend themselves in the future. We pretty much destroyed their Air Force during the initial assault. Well, they are back and better then ever. In fact, the cover of the paper shows an Air Force commander observing an Iraqi pilot check his new fighter plane.

A Cessna 172.

For you non-pilots out there, here is a picture:

List of 5s

I always am nervous about putting these lists out there for all to see. My family reads this, after all! What if I run for office some day? Oh well. Thanks to Sean for the tag. At least I have someone to blame if I get in trouble.

My 5 "Passes:"
5. Lynda Carter – What is she, like a hundred? Actually the Wiki says she's 56. I've been in love with her since I had her poster plastered on my paneled wall in my little room in New York.
4. Kandyse McClure – Absolutely beautiful.
3. Tricia Helfer – Can you tell I've been watching Battlestar Galactica?
2. Janine Lindemulder – Did I just put an adult film star on my list? Yes I did. It's my list dammit and I'll do what I want. Actually, I'm a bit weirded out by the sleeve tattoo, but I'd have no problem getting over it. Quickly.
1. Angelina Jolie – She's probably certifiably insane. I don't care. She's the most beautiful woman of our generation.

My Top 5 Favorite Movies:
5. Grease – I get all tingly when they pan up on Olivia Newton John when she's wearing the spandex.
4. Willow – Val Kilmer as Madmartigan. Billy Barty. A young Kevin Pollak. Priceless.
3. Monte Python – The Meaning of Life
2. Star Wars – The Original
1. The Princess Bride – I can still quote this movie almost verbatim

My Top 5 Favorite Albums of all time:
5. The Eagles – Greatest Hits
4. Jimmy Buffett - Margaritaville
3. Harry Belafonte – Live at Carnegie Hall (1960). As a quick aside, the Chad Mitchell Trio performed on this album. Even though he wasn't a member when the album was made, I just found out that John Denver was part of the trio!
2. Little River Band – Greatest Hits
1. James Taylor – Greatest Hits

I will not tag anyone else, 'cause that's how I roll.

The Zoo

I don't know much about this zoo. I've driven past it in the bus and it fascinates me. I'm told it was Saddam's personal zoo. He brought in all kinds of exotic animals and kept there right here. Rumor has it that after the invasion, the animals were all neglected and most of them escaped. One night while walking back from dinner, I saw some kind of animal by the Camp Cropper gate. I don't know if it was one of the exotics, but it sure scared the heck out of me.

Anyway, enjoy these pics of the zoo. I apologize for the lack of detail, but I shot them from the window of a moving bus.

Happy Birthday, Honey!

I had promised a post about the Zoo, but things here have been crazy, so it will have to wait until tomorrow. Instead, I get to use my little place on the internet to wish my beloved a happy birthday. I think this may be the first time we aren't together on her birthday in the 15+ years we've been together. Holidays and happy occasions are tough times to be deployed.

I wish I could have been there, honey. I'll do my very best trying to not miss another one.

I hope you enjoy your present. Let's see some pictures!

A Trip to the PX

We have a good PX on Camp Striker, but there is a bigger PX over on Camp Liberty. Unfortunately, it's an hour bus ride. I had the extra time today because I couldn't work out like I normally do. You see, there was NO WATER. Have you ever tried to run a hospital without water? I'm guessing no. Well, the water is back on now, so I'm headed to the gym to try and create some muscles to impress random Macedonian chicks.

Please enjoy these pics I took while riding on the bus.

Picture 1. Since this is a desert, these lakes aren't natural. We are pretty sure Saddam had them put in. I guess there were a few perks being supreme ruler after all. "Hey Achmed. Put a lake over there."

Picture 2. Small palaces surround the lake. They were probably for favored family and friends.

Picture 3. More of the same.

Picture 4. The big palace. One of them, at least.

Tomorrow: The Zoo.

Rant Day

Rant 1: I have a mandatory 4 hour on-line training course called Ethical Medical Treatment of Detainees. These damned detainees get far better treatment then you can possibly imagine. If they receive any unethical treatment, it's probably because some soldier was pissed off at having to do a 4 hour class on how to be ethical.

Rant 2: I have a Norelco electric razor. Don't ask me which model because I've long since forgotten. A little red light has come on telling me it's time to change the blades. The problem, of course, is that I'm in Iraq. There are no replacement blades here. The bigger problem is that the stupid red light sucks out the charge from the cordless razor and I don't have enough outlets to keep it charged all the time. I contacted Norelco's online help desk and they told me to switch the blades around to see if that makes the light go off (it didn't). They also suggested letting the charge run out and trying again (the light is still on). I will never buy another Norelco product. Piece of shit. I'm back to shaving with regular blades again.

Rant 3: I go to the gym every day, 7 days a week. I've done it for the entire time I've been here. There is a young girl from Macedonia that works behind the desk. She's very friendly and flirts with most of the young soldiers in the gym. I usually just say hello before starting my workout. Well, lately she has gotten more friendly. It was to the point where I actually asked someone if she was flirting with me (you'd think I'd know if I was being flirted with, but you can ask my wife, I'm clueless). My young Macedonian friend made her position quite clear yesterday. She came up to me, smiled, and said, "You come to the gym everyday. How come you don't have any muscles?"

Veterans Day

From a veteran in Iraq, I just wanted to say thanks for keeping us in your thoughts and prayers.

More Pics

As a favor to a friend, I took some more pictures of my area. As I noted on my last photo dump, this place is pretty uninteresting. I found it unusual that there are these big trees in random places. I wouldn't expect that in the desert.

Picture 1: This is my new trailer on Camp Cropper. It's much closer to the hospital. I live in the door marked "B." It's nice to have a tree right outside my door.

Picture 2: The Big Tree. Every morning at 5:20 am, the birds in this tree start chirping. The sound is raucous. It truly goes from silence to deafening. They do it again around 5:30 in the evening, too.

Picture 3: This is my room in the trailer. The flag from Sean is a nice touch (but I think I have it hung backwards). The American flag he sent is just off screen.

Picture 4: This is me with my friend Jess, our Psychiatrist and my "battle buddy." The completely illegal shirts were also sent from Sean for some pimpage of his radio station, Rock 101 out of Lubbock, Texas. As you can see, we are just happy to be here.

Guitar

I have been playing guitar my whole life. At home, my best audience is my oldest son. I literally play guitar for him every night at bedtime (well, I did before I left for Iraq). I really miss playing for him and I miss my guitar, a Martin D-28 (feel free to ooh and ahh). I have no guitar out here, but there are many people who do. They either brought them over, bought there here in the local shop (these guitars suck) or they got them through something called Operation Happy Note. I requested a guitar from the Happy Note folks as well. If they come through, I think I will have found a charity I can totally get behind. Free musical instruments for deployed service members? That's one helluva good idea!

While I wait, I trade some playtime for guitar lessons. I actually have 4 students right now in various stages of learning. I use the same teaching style I learned from my dad. Teach them something that sounds good and they will want to keep playing it. Don't press. Compliment liberally. It's quite effective.

Well, I was paid the highest compliment a guitar teacher can get. One of my students is from Puerto Rico, and she wanted to learn a couple songs in Spanish. Having 6 years of Spanish lessons and an ear for guitar music made this pretty easy for me. Last night, a bunch of us were sitting around after our Wednesday night poker game and she picked up the guitar to show off a bit. One of her friends, someone who has played guitar for over 8 years, was quite impressed and asked how long she had been playing. I was bursting at the seams and answered for her.

Prior to last week, she had never picked up a guitar.

The Post Where He Quotes Dostoevsky

"The degree of civilization in a society can be judged by entering its prisons." Fyodor Dostoevsky

If prison conditions are the measure of a society, then we (meaning the U.S.) get high marks. I contend that no prison in the world offers as much for the interred as right here in Camp Cropper, Iraq. It's kind of funny really. Any complaint is addressed rapidly, no matter how minor. They have access to healthcare 24 hours a day. Hell, every single one of our detainees got a Flu shot. I bet you can't say that about everyone in America, prison or not.

I guess I should apologize for the obscure post from yesterday. Someday, someone is going to buy me a beer or four (actually 18 year old Macallan scotch would work much better) and I'm going to tell some stories that will either make you grab a pen or grab your ears and beg me to stop.

And with that, I will leave you with one final quote from Fyodor that best sums up the obscure post from yesterday.

"If he has a conscience he will suffer for his mistake. That will be his punishment--as well as the prison." - Fyodor Dostoevsky

Something Happened

Jeez, sometimes I hate this forum. We are prevented from talking or writing about certain things. Make no mistake, I completely agree with the policy. Some things are better off kept quiet. That's unsatisfying to you, I'm sure. People want to know. If fact, many (especially you journalists) feel you deserve to know. Heck, you demand it!

A bunch of us are watching Battlestar Gallactica. There has been some really excellent writing, and I especially enjoy the interaction between the President of the Colonies and the military. Remember that episode where Colonel Tigh was in charge and he needed supplies? He used the military to get them and things got out of control. That must really suck.

I.T. People are SO Helpful

Soldiers have a lot of traditions. One of the traditions is the "greeting of the day." Whenever a soldier walks past an officer, they salute and give a greeting. Usually it's a simple, "Good Afternoon, Sir." Sometimes, elite units have a slogan they'll say. Here are some examples:

First to Fight!

Mission First!

Rakkasan! (Still not sure what this means)

Well, the other day I walked past a soldier who just arrived in theater. His until is a Signal Battalion and they handle all the computers. His greeting was the best I've heard:

Permission Denied, Sir!

It is with this spirit that I am writing this post in the middle of my work day. Normally, I am working at this time, but today I cannot. You see, the folks that run my computer system decided they needed a new firewall. They spent 5 hours in the middle of what would otherwise be my most productive time installing the damn thing.

They will spend the rest of the night uninstalling it, because it made my system unusable, just like I told them it would be. I love these guys.

Post Halloween Bliss

Well, my weight creeped up a little this week - must be something about all that candy. We had a very cool Halloween bash here at the hospital. You might think that being in Iraq would isolate us from those things necessary to make a good party, but that was not the case. There was great food, a haunted house and some phenomenal costumes. I was totally unprepared, so I went as a soldier. How original.

Here are two of the better photos.

Picture 1. This is me with our Psych nurse (AKA the Wicked Witch of Puerto Rico) and our Psychiatrist.

Picture 2. Have you ever tried to milk a surgeon? I love the expression on his face.

Young Frankenstein

Tonight is traditionally my favorite night of the year (well, at least until I was 18). It's Mischief Night, and it always falls the night before Halloween. Much trouble did I cause in my youth. We shall not revisit those demons.

Tomorrow is Halloween, and my 10 year old son has determined he's too mature to go trick-or-treating. Besides, he says, he never gets any really good candy anyway. Instead, he's going to hide behind one of our trees and scare the hell out of trick-or-treaters. Zeyda will be so proud!

I had a total Halloween moment yesterday. As I was looking for a table in the dining facility, I came face to face with a woman that honestly reviled me the moment I saw her. I had a complete visceral reaction. It was a total Frau Blücher moment (I even heard the horses whinny). Turns out most people react to her that way. She is well known in these parts and is best avoided, (or so I'm told) mostly because her attitude is so negative that it tends to bring everyone down. It reminds me of a great quote I heard – "The only tool the miserable have is recruitment." Roll that one around in your noggin.

Well, through a series of unfortunate events, I ended up sitting right next to her at dinner. She asked me how I was coping with the deployment. I hit her with both barrels of my sunshine gun. I told her this was perhaps the greatest thing I had ever done in my life. I have developed a great circle of friends and my social calendar is filled beyond capacity.

I effectively built a karma wall between us that she was unable to climb over. She quickly gave up and went on to other victims. I felt like a superhero.

Goals

I have an Excel spreadsheet that tracks several goals. I have my weight loss goal (13 pounds and counting), my deployment tracker goal (30% completed) and my two mile goal (15:30 best so far). I have short, intermediate and long term goals. My biggest goal is to get home safely.

My wife has goals, too. In fact, she has a goal she has been working towards for the entire time I've known her (that's 15+ years for those keeping score at home).

Congratulations honey - I always knew you'd make it. You have finally arrived. Forevermore, when you walk those hallowed halls, they will look at you as you have looked at the many that came before you, and they'll say…

Partner

Hidden Posts – Redux

The day after my post about posting, I come to work and find out that the Bloglines site (where I read all of my favorite posts) is now blocked.

Coincidence? I think not.

As an aside, today marks the 21st anniversary of the day I joined the Army. What a long strange trip it's been.

Hidden Posts

I apologize for my poor choice of words. I re-read the last line of yesterday's post, and I can see where it sounds like I have a secret post somewhere out there on the internet. That is not the case.

What I should have said was, "It kind of make you wonder what I'm NOT writing about, doesn't it?"

To that end, let me clear up one more thing. These forums are not illegal in the military – they are just heavily regulated. Soldiers usually mean well, but they can (and have) inadvertently given away information that could help the enemy. It's one of the reasons I proofread my posts several times before sending.

Government computers are 100% monitored. It's one of the reasons you will not see me use the word b*l*o*g. It's a signal word that sends up red flags to the security guys. Like I said, I never write about anything I'm not supposed to, but why attract unnecessary attention?

All this goes back to my original point. If you are wondering whether or not things are happening around here that I can't (or won't) talk about, you can stop wondering.

Nothing like that happens around here.

A Post of Substance

I had really big intentions for this forum before I came out to Iraq. I would be your embedded reporter. I would chronicle things that real journalists could only dream about. I would make grown men weep and women swoon.

Yet, looking back on my posts, I notice a distinct lack of substance. Maybe you've noticed it, too. If you come here hoping for some real dirt and great insight, I'm afraid I've disappointed you. Sure there were some goodies, but for the most part, it's been a lot of fluff.

It kind of make you wonder if there is a hidden post somewhere, doesn't it?

Just a Coincidence

"Coincidence is God's way of staying anonymous." – anonymous

Some bizarre shit is happening around me. I'm not quite sure how to explain it. I believe in God, but I do not subscribe to the idea that a supreme being is sitting around figuring out ways to make me scratch my head all the time. Seriously, wouldn't He have better things to do?

So here is a chronicle of the most recent happenings:

I was telling a story about the fastest man I ever knew. When I was stationed at Ft. Benning 10 years ago, he was one of my Physician Assistants. He could run a mile in under 4 minutes. I ran the Army 10-miler with him (well, technically we ran it at the same time. I would have needed a motorcycle to keep up with him), and he finished at a 5:15 pace. Guess who shows up here in the hospital the day after I told the story. Same guy.

I had a full house beaten by an Ace to 5 straight flush (flopped) and we've seen quads flopped 3 different times in the short time I've been here. One night 4 different people had pocket Aces in the span of 45 minutes.

I'm watching Rounders (for like the 10th time) and I tell a story about how one of the characters reminds me of a very old friend. The next day, my sister gets an email from that same guy, and I'm told he'll be emailing me today. The last time I saw him or spoke to him was 23 years ago.

All I have to do is think about something, and somehow it comes right back to me.

God, if you are listening, there was this really old bottle of scotch …

Panties for Sale!

I'm blogging my heart out over here, yet my wife puts up a post about her panties and suddenly she an internet superstar. Well, if you can't beat 'em, join 'em. Act now and I'll sell you some panties that may or may not have belonged to my wife. The first 10 requests get a bonus – a pair of Waffles' shredded drawers so you can compare and contrast. PayPal and Pokerstars transfers accepted!

Now that that's out of the way, we can get back to war correspondence. Actually, there is not much new to report. The biggest problem we face seems to be soldiers not doing the right thing. Anytime you have women and men in close proximity for an extended period of time, things are going to happen. I remember hearing a Navy Admiral talking about the introduction of women on his ship. An "insolent" reporter asked if this would lead to hanky-panky. He replied that his sailors were disciplined. They would do the right thing.

Yeah. Right.

There are multiple ways to pass the time here on Camp Cropper. I've talked about the regular poker games and the Tuesday night chess tournament (I won last night, thank you very much). Well, there are also Salsa dancing classes. It's quite the popular thing to do. Well, I guess it is – I've never been. One of the regulars at Salsa, a very attractive young woman with an exotic island accent was asking me about my trailer. When I told her that no one has yet moved into the other side, she suggested we all get together and use the empty room for Salsa practice.

That's just what I need – a rocking trailer. Honest, General Stone! We were just dancing!

Comic Books

We have converted the Psychiatry trailer into our combination Officer's Club and Poker Room, but it's still the home of the nut house (exaggerated for effect). I was a little perplexed when one of the Psych techs handed me a comic book and said, "You might like this."

It was Neil Gaiman's Sandman .

Holy crap – has anyone else heard of this?

Sounds of War

High volume chatter – Hospitals are usually quiet places. Not here. The hallways are filled with soldiers talking and laughing at a higher than normal pitch. I'm sure it has something to do with stress, but there is another reason. All of the detainees must be guarded at all times, usually by two MPs. These cops are not used to the normally reserved atmosphere in a hospital.

Din – I never really appreciated this word, but it's a good description of the background noise in the dining facility. The DFAC is the size of an airplane hangar and there are literally thousands of hungry troops in there for every meal.

Cursing – There is something about being at war that makes otherwise sophisticated people curse like truck drivers (or maybe I should say poker players). I'm guilty of it, too. If you know me well, you know that's unusual for me. I'd better watch myself before I go back home.

Belching – This is the sound I was thinking about when I got the idea for this post. In this case, I'm not referring to your college roommate Wally who could burp the alphabet. I'm talking about the sound that comes from a .30 caliber Gatlin gun. This sound has been described (quite accurately) as a burp amplified 1000 times. These guns are usually attached to aircraft - I believe the A-10, but I'm not sure. It's the sound that woke me up this morning at 2am and it sounded like it was right outside my trailer.

Then came more cursing.

Proof of Insurance?

65' custom-built motor yacht complete with staterooms, a state-of-the-art galley, G.P.S. system and radar for navigation, twin supercharged diesel engines, etc.

$2.5 million

Champagne, chocolate covered strawberries with cream, and music dockside for the excited "soon to be owners" and a small group of friends.

$500.00

Two corporate representatives, crane, and rigging complete with faulty turnbuckle.


$2,500/hour

(Note the guy in the stern!)

Watching your dreamboat nose dive into the harbor, accompanied by two corporate representatives just prior to "inking" the final paperwork . . .






PRICELESS!

The Meaning of Life

If you've read The Wife recently, you saw a few gems from her day. It's wonderful that she's able to experience these joys. I know with me being so far away her life is quite stressful (as if it wasn't already that way). It's encouraging to me that she is still able to appreciate these small but significant events.

Being here in Iraq and reading about back home has made me revisit some of Life's Big Questions. I figured out the Meaning of Life when I was just a teenager. In my 30's I realized something was missing, so I added it in and stood back to look at the whole. At the time, it seemed quite profound. It's only with the eyes of a 40 year old that I'm able to appreciate it's main flaw – namely that any grand philosophy able to explain the Meaning of Life has to be so basic and simplified as to be pretty much of no use to anyone.

If you care, my meaning boiled down to four (and later 5) points:

You Must Learn
You Must Teach
You Must Reproduce
You Must Experience Joy

In my 30's I added:

You Must Function as a Member of Society

I also put on the single caveat:

In order to claim you have fulfilled your function as a living person, you must have done at least 3 of these 5 things before you die.

We can all sit around and talk about this until the sun comes up, but the bottom line is that I've already realized how over simplistic it is and how unusable it is when it comes to real life. Save your venom.

The reason for all this background has to do with point number 4 – You Must Experience Joy. There have been times in my life where I thought things were too complex and stressful. I longed for a simple life of sitting around and being a vegetable. Predictability would be wonderful. No surprises.

Now that I've had a chance to experience that kind of life, I can tell you this – I'd really love some complexity right now. Give me a chance to figure out how to balance the checkbook and the kids soccer games. Let me coordinate my wife's hectic schedule with my hospital schedule. Let me try to schedule family trips and vacations while trying to please everyone. Throw some surprises at me (the non-explosive kind, thanks). Anything but same-old, same-old.

In order to experience joy, you must first be able to define it. Will you know it when you have it?

It goes back to the one phrase I coined. As far as I can tell, it's original:

"Throughout your life, may you know how good you've got it while you're getting it."

New Equipment

We were just issued some new equipment. All soldiers must keep it in their shoulder pocket at all times. God help us if we are caught without it.

It's a tourniquet.

Bret Michaels Ain't So Poisonous

I meant to write about this last week. The "Bad Boy of Hollywood" (this was actually written on the posters advertising his arrival) played a concert here at Camp Stryker, Iraq last Sunday. If pressed, I would not have said I was a fan of Poison, his old group. My recollection of this 80's "hair band" was one of their album covers. I remember walking past a record store and seeing the album in the window and thinking, "Those chicks are HOT!" It was only after closer inspection that I realized all 4 people pictured were dudes in make-up with big hair. That will really fuck up the psyche of a teenager. I can only admit this now that I'm 40.

Well, for someone who wasn't a fan, I sure did know every word of every song he played. It was one helluva concert. There were about 2000 soldiers standing out there singing and just having a great, high-energy time. My hat is off to him for bringing his new band out here to entertain the troops.

You Can Find Me Here . . .

If you want to see where I work, check out this photo link from CNN.

http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/meast/10/10/iraq.main/index.html#cnnSTCPhoto

I'm a little surprised by the photos, because we soliders are all under STRICT orders not to take any photos. I guess orders don't apply to CNN. These 7 pics are actually very good representations of where I am and what we do.

Read Before You Hit "Send"

For your reading enjoyment, I copied an email sent to the entire hospital here in Iraq. I have changed nothing except to delete the sender's name.

-----Original Message-----
From: xxx xxxx SSG 535 MP NCOIC
Sent: Thursday, October 11, 2007 2:46 PM
To: DL CROP ALL
Subject: Acronyms

In the future, when submitting an SOR please refrain from using acronyms. There are several service technicians with KBR that are not familiar with them. Also, be sure to put building numbers for locations. Any SOR without building numbers and using only acronyms for their location will be returned to sender.

SSG xxx xxxx
NCOIC, DPW


I hit "REPLY TO ALL" and sent the following:

From: Dr. Chako LTC 31 CSH Radiologist
Sent: Thursday, October 11, 2007 2:56 PM
To: DL CROP ALL
Subject: RE: Acronyms

What's an SOR?


I have become something of a local celebrity from this.

Tagged!

My invisible internet friend Sean has tagged me with one of those, "Ten Things You Don't Know About Me" thingies. I was going to play the old "Not one of THESE things again" cards, but if you know me, you know I love talking about myself. For the more complete list, please see 101 Things About Dr. Chako.

1. I'm egotistical. Because of this, I'm easily manipulated by people who play on my ego. Call me an asshole and I'll forget you ever existed. Call me the greatest anything (doctor, poker player, guitar player, lover, whatever), and I'll do just about anything for you.
2. I am a morning person. If you tell me you are not, I'll totally understand but secretly think you are a weak individual.*
3. I have lost 11 pounds since I left home for Iraq.
4. I still need to lose 20 more.
5. Being in Iraq has only worsened my obsession with Ferraris.
6. Being in Iraq has worsened by Obsessive-Compulsive Disorder. I may need to dedicate an entire post to this.
7. I am not invincible, but I have this distinct feeling that I will not die here. I honestly believe I'm supposed to get home for something really important.
8. If you are better than me at just about anything, I will start to idolize you. Then I will work at becoming better than you.
9. If I was not an Army Doctor, I would want to be a singer-songwriter and play my guitar in local clubs - preferably somewhere warm. This would put a serious damper on my Ferrari dreams.
10. I once thought I had the perfect solution to the homeless crisis in America, but everyone I told just laughed at me (including my wife and my father). There is still a tiny piece of me that thinks someone should try it.
    
    * This is obviously a joke. Right honey ?

I'm All Right

If you've scanned the web or listened to the news, you may have come across this story:

http://www.cnn.com/2007/WORLD/meast/10/11/iraq.main/index.html

I just wanted to let you know that I'm just fine. So is everyone I know personally.

We're just a little busier than usual.

Poker Content!

Let me introduce you to my Wednesday and Saturday night poker game. This is a blog about poker after all.

First of all, we are all officers. There is a policy here against fraternization. It was originally crafted to prevent male and female soldiers of different ranks from sleeping together, but it morphed into something more. Now it generally means officers and enlisted should not socialize too much. Technically, it should also apply to any officers of different ranks, especially if you might gain undue influence if you, say, dump all your chips to your commander in exchange for light duty. We've decided that it doesn't apply to us, and since one of our regulars is the base commander, there is no one to tell us to stop.

Speaking of the commander:

The Commander: This is the guy I would invite to my home game if I had one. Nice guy. Good conversationalist. Great stories and a good poker player in that "I don't give a shit about money so let's see if you can outplay me," kind of way. At first I thought he didn't care and would raise or reraise with any two cards, but I've discussed a little strategy with him, and he knows his stuff. (This is not the same commander as my boss' boss – the analytical chess and ping pong player).

The Ringer: Heavy Boston accent. Probably the best player at the table (other than me, of course). A little too conservative for our format, but he knows position, which is better than just about everyone else there. About the only other person capable of making plays based on his reads as opposed to his cards.

The LT: He's one of our ER nurses. His best quote, "Has anyone seen the Veterinarian? Because these pythons are sick (as he says this, he kisses his biceps)." He's actually pretty decent at cards, and I've even seen him win one or two games.

The Psychiatrist: The only woman in what is otherwise a sausage-fest. She's clearly improving and took her first 1st place last time we played. She has the most predictable tells of anyone out there. I can't believe no one (or almost no one) picks up on them. Seriously, it's right out of Mike Caro. If she looks at the flop and looks right away at her chips, watch out. She does this every time she has a good hand.

The Cop: He's an MP and we just lost him to another game 300 miles away. He'll be missed because he was good fun and played a very calm game. Even when he flopped quad Aces. Against me, dammit.

The Doc (not me): Another good young player, come to think of it. Very conservative, often to his benefit. With 12 chips in 3rd place, he came back to win by exercising extreme patience. I saw some of what he discarded and I must say I was impressed.

Your Hero (moi): Usually I'm first place or last place. I'd like to think I always get it in with the best, and while that's usually true, I admit I've been outplayed once or twice. Well, maybe once.

That's the regulars. There are others that come and go, but this is the core. It sure helps the week go by when you know you have a poker game to look forward to twice a week. I just wish we could play for real money - even small stakes. People play differently, and it shows. Still, it's a good chance to work on my player reading ability, and it's a damn good time.

Thought for the Day

When someone says to you, "Basically, you are correct," it can mean one of only three things:

1. Either they think you are too stupid to understand the full explanation, or
   
2. They are too lazy to take the time to explain it to you, or
   
3. They don't quite understand it either.

Blogs are Educational

Good morning class. Today we are going to learn two new words. Are you ready? I knew you were. Our first word of the day is:

Pneumoconiosis

Can you say, “pneumoconiosis?” Good! I bet you want to know what it means, right? Well open a dictionary and look it up you lazy piece of sh… Sorry. This is supposed to be educational, so I just tell you. Pneumoconiosis is an occupational lung disease caused by the inhalation of dust. The type of dust determines the type of disease. You may have heard of Coal Workers Lung (Black Lung), Asbestosis, or Silicosis. There is another type of pneumoconiosis and it comes from sand. That’s right, just like the kind you get in a desert. Like in Iraq. In the average year, a person in Iraq will inhale the equivalent of ½ to 1 cup of sand. Some are lucky and breathe it right back out. Others are not so lucky and have lung changes that never go away. Ever. How do we know who gets sick and who doesn’t? We don’t. Smokers have a worse time clearing their lungs (thank God I never smoked), but sometimes otherwise perfectly healthy people are forever changed by exposure to this much dust. Could you wear some sort of protective mask, you ask? I guess, but it’s hard enough to breathe in this heat, and the type of HEPA mask necessary to block out this kind of dust isn’t readily available, and probably wouldn’t be used if it was.

Our next word is:

Leishmaniasis

Can you say... aw fuck it. I tell you about this one, too. This is a particularly nasty disease that is transmitted by the bite of certain species of sand fly. In the US, we call them no-see-ums, and they are merely annoying. Here in Iraq we call them “Those damned little pieces of shit that you never see bite you but leave a mark exactly like a fire ant bite.” If you’ve never had a fire ant bite, ask a Texan or Floridian about them. That’s right - flying fire ants! Hoo-ah! When you get the disease here, it even earned its own cool nickname, “The Baghdad boil.” How cute!

In tomorrows class we’ll discuss shoving a hot poker up your ass. It’s just as fun as these diseases, but you never have to leave home!

The People in My Neighborhood

War brings together some interesting folks. I'm beginning to think M*A*S*H was a lot closer to the truth, at least when it comes to Health Care Professionals in combat. Let me introduce you to:

The Dietician – My breakfast companion. I had gotten used to her minor complaints about Life, the Universe and Everything, when she hit me with this doozy. She casually mentions that in two more years, she won't have to take a PT test. Huh? I've never heard of such a regulation. Yup, she replies. When you hit 60, the Army no longer requires a physical training evaluation. What?! That's right, folks. She's an Active Duty Lieutenant Colonel at 58 years old. Shit – she's old enough to be my mother, and she's earned the right to bitch a little.

The Internist – He's a great guy who acknowledges he's out of his element. You see, he's a Rheumatologist, but on the "Big List of Army Doctors," that's pretty much kinda like an Internist. So, guess what? Welcome to combat! Here are your really sick patients. Good luck. Still, he's turning out to be a good caring doc, and that's more than our detainee population could ask for.

The Surgeon – The guy he replaced said to him, "Look. I'll be around for a couple of days while you are getting settled. If you get a really complicated case in the OR… good luck. Don't fuckin' call me, 'cause I'm going home." It was said tongue in cheek (I think), but he's now "the man" when it comes to any General Surgery needs. I asked him if he felt prepared for the carnage he's seen over the last month, and he quickly said, "Absolutely not." Still, I've seen his work, and I'd let him do my appendectomy. I can't say that about a lot of surgeons I've met.

The Psychiatrist – She must have the toughest job in theater (aside from our young heroes who have to do all the shooting). She has to minister to the mental health needs of a detainee population that DON'T SPEAK THE SAME LANGUAGE. I can't imagine how difficult that must be. On top of that, the soldier suicide rate is up and her boss is a workaholic social worker who insists that she just sit around waiting long into the evening for patients that have never shown up. Not once. How she manages to maintain a smile is beyond me.

The Deputy Commander – This is my boss, and you couldn't ask for someone better. He won't read this so you don't have to worry that I'm sucking-up. He really cares about his docs and will go to bat for us in a heartbeat. I really like his honesty, too. All the doctors meet once a week so he can put out information. He admitted to us that he was a little down in the dumps. You see, I am here as a six-month rotator. He's here for the full 15 months. He was okay with it, but the 1st six-month rotators just left, and it forced him to realize that he still has 9 more months to go. During that time, he'll have to say goodbye to the NEXT group of six-month rotators (my group).

The Commander – Interesting guy. Kind of a Renaissance Man. I mentioned to you all that I took 2nd place in the Tuesday night chess tournament. He took first. Kicked my ass all over the chessboard. Turns out that at one time he was rated at 1900. That puts him right about Grand Master territory. I'm just above average and never stood a chance. Of course, right after that, he kicked my ass at ping pong, too. Well, I'm younger and better looking, dammit (well, at least I'm younger)!

We are a motley group, but a damn good one if I do say so myself. I wonder what they'd have to say about me if they were so blog-inclined.

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Convoy Training

3 OCT 07

If you’ve ever spent any time on a military installation, you’ve seen convoys. It seems like all the Army ever does is “convoy training.” Line ‘em up. Drive ‘round in circles. Come back. Do it again tomorrow.

Tonight, as I walked back from the Tuesday night chess tournament (2nd place), I had to stop for a bunch of idiots doing nighttime convoy training. Six Strikers (which, by the way, are very impressive at night) crossed right in front of me, otherwise disturbing the peaceful walk back to my hooch.

It wasn’t until they passed and I walked about 200 yards that I realized something. They weren’t convoy training, you idiot. This is war. This was for real. These young soldiers were headed out on a mission to catch bad guys.

God bless ‘em.

Now, please take a moment and head over to The Wife. What started out as yet another “here’s a cute guy that isn’t my husband” post (I thought) quickly morphed into a love so fierce I often wonder if I’m worthy.

Iraq Pic Dump

2 OCT 07

My good friend Dr. Pauly made me promise to take pictures of Iraq. It’s pretty dreary here, but these should give you some idea of my surroundings. Unfortunately, I can’t take pictures of where they keep the prisoners, but it pretty much looks exactly like where I live, just with some barbed wire and guards over the concrete barriers.

Here is the open bay I stayed in while at Camp Buehring, Kuwait. This place was purgatory. We were all begging to get into Iraq ASAP just to get out of there.

I finally moved out of the 20-man tent into my own room. The Ferrari screen saver brightens up the place a bit. So does the sweet carpet the last guy sold to me for ¼ the price.

This is the view out my door. The list on the wall was also left by the last guy, but I find it handy, so I left it.

And this is my “street.” There are literally hundreds of trailers behind these walls, each divided into 3 rooms, most of which contain at least 2 people. I’m thankful every day I don’t have to share my 12 x 12 “hooch” with another slob like me.

This Message Brought to You by M*A*S*H

30 SEP 07

As many of you have guessed, my internet posting is not regular. It’s not for lack of material. Unfortunately, the “powers that be” shut down our access periodically. It’s one of the many things I can’t write about (for now).

Since I don’t know how long my connection will be up this time, I just wanted to share something quick. I used to watch the TV show M*A*S*H all the time. I always cracked up when Big Army did something really illogical. Surely that can’t happen in real life?

Every day I walk to work, I have to pass through a metal detector. No biggie, right? Except, I’m always armed with a 9mm Beretta with live ammunition.

It never fails to crack me up.

Now, if you want some poker-y goodness, head on over to The Wife. She’s blogging her ass off.

Oh yeah, I meant to add this to my post about the 10 year old Iraqi kid who wanted me dead. Here is my 10 year old son.

Dr. Chako = Dr. Zhivago?

27 Sep 07

I'm running on the treadmill in the gym near the hospital, and Armed Forces Network is showing Dr. Zhivago. It's the original movie version with Omar Sharif. Too much wistful longing for my taste, but it's a decent war movie from a personal standpoint, which I think was Boris Pasternak's intention.

The scene I'm watching shows the Russians opening up the Gatlin gun on a bunch of white-clad "soldiers" running away. The weapon is quite effective and mows them down in no time. Off they go to survey the damage, only to find out it's a bunch of kids they shot up.

**

My oldest son is ten. He is awesome. Good looking, bright, fun, enthusiastic. He's good at sports and loves to draw. Tonight he told me about his campaign to run for school Secretary. Win or lose, he certainly has spent a lot of time preparing.

**

Back in the hospital now. I'm looking at an x-ray of feet. They are shot all to hell. But something is different.

It's a kid.

So, I walk down to the Emergency Room to find out what's up. Sure enough, there is a ten year old Iraqi kid looking scared to death. He's got bandages everywhere and our medics and docs are doing their usual outstanding job taking care of him. One of the docs comes over to tell me the rest of the story.

Our soldiers shot him. A lot. They caught him red-handed placing an Improvised Explosive Device (IED).

10-fucking-years-old.

Night Life in Iraq

25 Sep 07

When we last left our hero, he was taking combat showers at work and stamping out disease and pestilence. Now it's time to let loose. But first, we have to get home.

1600 (or 4 pm for you non-military minded) – Grab my laundry bag and head out. Since I workout every day, I keep PT (exercise) clothes at work. The good news is that laundry is free and they do it for you. It's only about 150 yards from the hospital and it's right on my way back to tent city. Of course, I arrive at the facility drenched in sweat. Did I mention it gets hot here?

1630 I finally get back to the tent and take some time to cool off. Thanks to good Army ingenuity, there are bottles of drinking water everywhere and it's quite good. Most of the time it's refrigerated – just not in the tent. That's okay. The tents are air conditioned and even at room temperature, the water always tastes good. Now I usually read a book and, if it's working, I fire up the laptop and surf a little. I even have my MP3 player, although I don't use it often. I'm still not happy with the earpiece situation. Maybe my ear canals are built funny, but I still haven't found a good ear piece. Oh well.

1730 Off to chow. Yet another good meal. Since I began my workout routine, I have almost completely skipped deserts. I'll occasionally have a bag of chips, but no pastries or baked goods. They have a cheesecake and a chocolate layer cake that looks awesome. I've decided to diet Body-for-Life style and only eat desert only one day a week.

1830 Now comes the hard part. How do you fill large blocks of free time? If it's like last night, you go back to the hospital because some young soldier is having pelvic pain and needs an ultrasound. Usually my nights are free. Wednesday and Saturday are poker nights. The other nights are generally spent in the MWR tents (Morale, Welfare and Recreation) watching TV, movies and even playing video games. Some wonderful folks in the states donated hundreds of X-Boxes, Playstations and even a bunch of Wiis so soldiers won't get bored. There are a bunch of people playing chess and dominoes. I've even found a few guitar players! I already have a few soldiers asking me for lessons. I used to give lessons in college, so this should be a nice way to pass the time.

2200 Bed time. Tomorrow it's just wash, rinse and repeat. There are no days off in Iraq. Tuesday is just like Sunday. You mark the passage of time by events. Wednesdays and Sundays are easy because those are poker nights. Some people choose to live holiday to holiday. I've come up with a few other ways to mark the days.

13 more haircuts (I get mine cut every 2 weeks) or
26 more weapon inspections or
51 more poker games or
179 more days or
4322 more hours or
258,385 more minutes

That's about it. It's not a bad life. It would be even better if it weren't for those pesky bad guys.

WORK!

Editors Note: I'm still having internet issues, so I'm emailing my posts to "The Wife," and she's putting them up. This is the second of 3 installments about my "Typical Day in Iraq." As soon as you are done, head on over to The Wife's new blog http://thewife-herside.blogspot.com/. If you know anyone who's been deployed, you know it's always tougher on those left at home, but she handles it with courage and candor. If you like what I'm doing here, you'll love it over there. Just remember, if you like her blog better than mine, keep it to yourself. - DrC

Continuing on my "typical day in Iraq" theme, I am now headed to work.

0645 I leave the chow hall and start the trek to the hospital. I live and eat on one camp, but I work on a different camp. Both camps (and many others) are contained within the larger Victory Base Complex you may have heard about recently on the news. Now comes the saluting. I am a Lieutenant Colonel, and I outrank just about everyone here, so everyone I walk past has to salute me. It's pretty cool, but to be honest it can get a little old. Still, I remember saluting everyone in sight when I was a Private First Class, so this is a nice turn around.

0700 I arrive at Camp Cropper and show my special ID to the gate guard. This takes me right past the "Do Not Enter – Deadly Force Authorized" sign. I usually check twice before I leave to make sure I have the proper ID.

0710 Finally, I'm at the hospital. My sand colored boots are now covered in actual sand, as is much of my lower uniform. It won't be until later that the sand has managed to find its way into my shirt, face, hat and hair. Ah yes, air conditioning!

0720 to 0800 – Now it's boring stuff. I catch up on emails, check in with the techs and get a report of radiology studies waiting to be read. Because of the miracles of the internet, I am the sole radiologist for 5 different facilities, 3 of which have radiology capability (the rest just send their patients over to us).

0800 to ? Now I'm ready to work. I read every study until the worklists are clean. It's usually between 100 and 150 exams. By contrast, I usually read 40 to 50 studies per day at Madigan back in Washington. The work is usually not as challenging (or time consuming) as back home, but it's important. Detainee health care may not sound glamorous, but patients are patients (regardless of their personal or political beliefs), and I'm here to help.

Somewhere in there, I go to the gym, and eat a little snack. In fact, I just got back from the gym, but I'm waiting to cool off before taking another combat shower here in the hospital.

Tomorrow: NIGHT LIFE!

My Typical Day in Iraq

20 Sep 07

In response to loyal reader Sean (AKA Instant Tragedy), here is my typical day. Please excuse the military times. I can't help it.

0500 I wake up in my 20 person tent. The lights remain off until 0730, so I have to do everything in the dark. I sleep in PT clothes (Army t-shirt and shorts), and as I climb out of my sleeping bag, I slip on my shower shoes. I have a little flashlight near the bed that I use to find the towel and hygiene kit from my duffel bag and I trudge my way to the latrine.

0505 The latrine is about 150 yards away. I walk out of my tent and stumble over stones and sand. There are these huge concrete T-walls for force protection and they keep out much of the light from surrounding compounds, but the moon is often bright enough to light the way. I arrive at the portapotty and take care of business before going next door to the shower.

0510 There are 6 small shower stalls and six adjacent sinks (try saying that 5 times fast). I have my electric razor charged up, so I do a quick shave and brush my teeth before taking a "combat shower."

0520 Each soldier is allotted 15 gallons a day for personal hygiene, including flushing the toilets and taking showers. They way this works is we turn on the water and get wet. As soon as we are wet, we turn off the water and lather up. On again comes the water and we turn it off again as soon as all the soap is off.

0525 Band-Aid change. I got a smallpox vaccination before coming and it takes about 3 weeks to heal. At least the intense itching, which lasted about a week, has mostly subsided. I change the dressing and carefully discard it before washing my hands again. There is still a live virus on the band-aid and scab, so you have to be really careful.

0530 Back in my PT clothes and shower shoes and stumble back to the tent.

0545 Now I use the flashlight to change into my Army ACU's, or my desert camoflague. It's long pants, long sleeves, boots and a hat. On top of that, I strap on my 9mm Beretta pistol and I'm off to chow.

0600 The dining facility has a sign out front. I'm not allowed to take a picture for security reasons, but it reads:

NO WEAPON
NO ENTRY
NO EXCEPTIONS !

I show my ID and get in for a really good meal. They serve over 27,000 meals per day in this one facility, and they do an incredible job.

0645 After a leisurely breakfast, I ready myself for the one mile walk to work. It's cool in the morning, somewhere in the middle to high 80's, so it's a nice walk. The walk home won't be nearly as much fun.

Tomorrow: WORK!

Greetings from Iraq!

17 Sep 07

I’m on the ground and running full speed. In this case, full speed is about 2 MPH. It’s hot here. Have I mentioned that? I’m reminded of a line from Biloxi Blues, “It’s Africa hot. Tarzan couldn’t take that kind of hot.” The day I arrived in Kuwait it was 120 degrees. Most days have been between 110 and 116. Night time is much better. 90 degrees feels positively balmy.

I learned something recently - jet lag sucks. The rule of thumb is it takes one day to adjust for every hour of time difference. Right now we are 11 hours ahead of the West Coast, so it’s supposed to take 11 days to adjust. I’m waking up at all hours of the night (and day). Actually, last night was my first night of good sleep. It’s probably because I kicked ass in the local poker game. We played 4 tournaments and I took one 1st place, one 2nd place and two 3rd places. My one win came in the final game where I was “heads-up” against my old boss Dr. Steve, and I busted him up real good. He was still all smiles because he knows that I won the battle, but he wins the war – he gets to go back home to the states in a few days.

For now, be well. I’ll post again soon.

What, No Lobster?

14 Sep 07

Well folks, I’m finally here in Iraq. I’ll have tons of stuff to tell you about in the coming weeks and months. Unfortunately, until I get my new laptop battery I am a bit handcuffed by time limitations.

Leaving a crying family at the airport was every bit as hard as you might imagine. The image of them huddled together for comfort stayed with me throughout the flight, and really through the two weeks I’ve been gone. It’s better today because I finally got my webcam working and I got to see smiles instead of tears. The connection is a little bit slow – it’s been likened to talking with the space shuttle. That’s appropriate because the landscape here in Baghdad is a lot like what I imagine the moon to be.

We started a list called, “You Know You Are Deployed in Iraq When…” The first entry is “when you get out of the shower and still have sand in every orifice in your body.”

I’ll have some pics in the coming days. For now, I want to explain the title of this post. He actually said, “What, no lobster? This is such bullshit!” This was a line spoken by a soldier in front of me at the dining facility. You may think he was joking, but it was spoken in all sincerity. Every Friday night is steak and lobster night here on Camp Striker. Since there was no lobster, I had to settle for King Crab legs. They were scrumptious. People give a lot of shit to Halliburton, but if I’m not mistaken, they are the parent company of KBR which handles our food. Nothing improves morale like good chow.

Finally, thanks for all your support for me and “The Wife” during these trying times. You may not think so, but your comments mean a lot. It’s like a little internet “care package.”

Touchdown, Safe and Sound

Guest post, courtesy of The Wife:

Short one today, friends. Just a quick note to say the good Dr. called yesterday (at 2:30 a.m., his time) to say he's now in country. Wish him well.

Godspeed you home, my love.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Close, but not quite . . .

Guest post, courtesy of The Wife:

Today, lucky readers, is a special-double-bonus day for you all. You have the extreme privilege of reading DrChako's blog with both my special insights and editorial prowess (*chuckle*), as well as having ACTUAL comments and insights from the man himself. Yes, my beloved Dr. is on the ground in Kuwait, awaiting the next transport into his final duty station in our favorite four-letter word - Iraq.

So without further delay, some of his poignant observations . . .

Well, here I am in Kuwait. This place is purgatory. I can't believe people are actually stationed here. I'm certain this place looks just like Baghdad, but it's considered non-hazardous duty. The way i figure it, if you are coming all this way, might as well go the extra 100 miles north and be able to say "I was there, dude!"

Training today was a bust. We went to the range at 4 am and fired 5 familiarization shots. What a waste. If I'm getting up that early, let me shoot a whole bunch, dammit. . . .

Yesterday the power went out in our tent. We were in total darkness and within 10 minutes the temperature equaled and then surpassed the outside temperature of 120 degrees. How do natives live in this shit?! . . .

Now I have to gear myself up for taking a dump in a portapotty. It's 120 outside right now, which means it's 140 in the potty. Wish me luck.

OK . . . the portapotty might have been a little TMI . . . but you get the picture. I guess it's standard military - hurry up and wait. Too bad our poor Dr. has to do his waiting there. Wonder why they don't stage them out of Hawaii or something like that. I bet military recruitment would get a big boost if people knew that a deployment would be bookended with a bunch of training on a balmy 90 degree beach with girls in bikinis. I know I'm only a CPA, but I'm trying to think outside the box.

So again, thanks from both of us for your kind thoughts and wishes - keep the posts coming, and in addition to keeping the home fires burning, I'll keep the blog fires burning for the man. Special thanks to Sean, for being MY most regular reader and commentor in my short time as the Dr.'s voice. And thanks, Amy C, for the vote of confidence on the blog . . . just trying to keep the Dr.'s readers informed, but might have to think about my own!

For some of our friends out there, L'shanah Tovah! If you have to ask what it means, google Judaism 101 - I'm sure its at least as educational as anything you're reading here.

Later this week, some obligatory poker content. Or maybe the video of Son #2 "Mutton-Bustin'" . . .

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Houston, we have lift off . . .

Guest post, courtesy of The Wife . . .

To DrChako's fellow bloggers, poker pals, and other loyal friends and readers, I post tonight to let you know he's taken the next step in our latest reality show. Several hours ago, he called me from Bangor, Maine to let me know he would soon be on his way to the big sandbox across the sea. As I type, he is likely somewhere over the Atlantic Ocean, so thoughts and prayers for a safe flight. I am sure he will send a post for me soon; suffice it to say that he was in the best mood possible for a man about to go to war. Or maybe that was just to keep me from crying.

He did tell me that at the Bangor airport, the troops were met by volunteer veterans (up way past any normal person's bedtime) just there to shake our soldier's hands and wish them well on their journey. I guess that's the great part about being an American - we can criticize the politics behind this war every day in our news, and yet a group of aging veterans will drag themselves to an airport at 11:00 p.m. at night to wish people they don't know a safe journey. Small things tend to restore my wavering faith in humanity these days.

Technically, this is a poker blog, not a place for me to be maudlin. I'll save that for another blog I'm cooking up in my head - "Sending Your Spouse to War Sucks." So with that in mind, here is some obligatory poker (sort of) content:

The good Dr. and I have two wonderful sons. One of Son #1's best traits is a natural curiousity and genuine interest in fully exploring a topic of interest. Son #1 is fascinated with DrChako's poker habit: he likes to watch our "no money, all glory" home matches head-to-head, comment on our online plays, and have DrChako share stories from the poker room. He's also my son, so he understands the importance of a dollar. He's fully aware that DrChako's bankroll is a negotiated amount that can only continue to exist through good play, as the accountant in me will not let large amounts of our hard-earned wages to be dropped in someone else's pockets.

Last weekend, Son#1 spent time with his buddy Ryan. Ryan's parents are divorced, so with all of the finagling that went on about whose house he would be at, Son #1 must have had the topic on his mind. So after dropping Ryan off, we drive home and Son #1 says "Mom, would you ever divorce Dad?"

What a loaded question. Of course, I jump quickly to say "Son, I love your father. You don't divorce people you love." He pressed on. "What would make you divorce him?" I calmly replied that it would take something pretty big. "Son, Daddy and I have fights, but we love each other. Grandma and Grandpa fight and they've been married 37 years! Daddy would have to do something really terrible for me to not love him enough to stay married to him." I figured this was good enough. I was wrong.

"I know!" Son #1 exclaimed. He feels pretty good about himself when he thinks he's figured it out. "I bet that if Dad gambled the house in a poker game, and lost it, then you'd probably divorce him."

For a 10-year old, he's got this woman pretty well figured-out!

Safe travels, dear Dr. . . . and to the rest of you, keep the comments coming. I think my periodic recaps of your comments (where he is at, the blog site has been blocked) do wonders for his spirits.

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

On his way . . .

As DrChako begins the labyrinth of deployment preparation at a far away location, and unable to post regularly, he has given me leave to guest post. Heretofore, I have been a mere snide comment or two in his posting history. Most of the time, I use my commentary to keep him honest, keep him humble, and poke a little fun. Today, I post in seriousness, as I truly love and miss my DrChako. So bear with me . . .

Friday, August 31, 2007

I'm convinced that poker players are an odd lot. Take no offense; being an occasional one myself, and being married to one DrChako, I speak from personal experience. However, in these last few days, as we have prepared to send the good Dr. off to serve in an unpopular war, in an unfriendly country, under the command of a man who has not gained the worldwide support he really needs to make this kind of action successful, I am thoroughly impressed with the support you have shown him through your words. While I know some of you know him more intimately (as some of his precious wages may have made their way into your pockets, at some point in time), a few of you may only know him through his words, and still you send your good wishes. You hearts are in the right place.

I fight a bit of self-pity; after all, I am losing my husband, my lover, my co-parent, and my best friend for a long time, with no certainty as to how frequently I will be able to communicate with him. However, I know spouses who have been without their loved ones for far longer; families for whom this is a second or third tour of duty; families without the support at work, the support of other friends and families, and without the financial resources to find ways to make this easier. So today, I ask not for myself, but for the good Dr. and others:

1. Keep him in your thoughts, as well as all those men and women (you too, Sis) who are just over there doing their jobs to the best of their ability, in a situation that can never match the frustrations, boredom, overtime, under appreciation, or office politics the rest of us endure in our jobs.

2. If you believe in prayer, then I welcome one on DrChako's behalf, in whatever form that comes, and to whichever being you believe watches over good people.

3. If you do not believe in prayer, then believe that on some level, our collective good wishes have to do him and others some good, somehow, so keep them coming.

4. Keep our oldest son in mind; he's been strong beyond belief, for a 10-year old, until last night when he broke down in tears. "I knew this day would come; I just knew it. I kept hoping that something would blow up all the bad people over there, so that Daddy wouldn't have to go!" Today he confessed to a family friend that he knew he was expected to be the man of the house and he wasn't sure how he was going to do that; think of him as he tries to determine if each day he needs to be 10, or 20.

5. Keep our youngest son in mind; he's not sure what this all means, but as we walked to the garage to take his father to the airport, he patted my back and said "Don't cry when Daddy leaves, ok?" When we left the airport, me with tears streaming down my face, he looked me in the eyes and said "If I hug you a lot, will that make you better?" He threw up in the car 3 blocks from the house (he gets carsick sometimes), and as I jumped out to clean things up, in total "mom" mode, my sadness momentarily averted, he cheerfully said "You sound much better now, Mom." He's only 4, but his heart is as big as anyones.

6. Keep in mind the front lines. DrChako is an officer; he'll be afforded conveniences others might not. No one is perfectly safe, but he's not going to be that scared 19 year-old guy who's tasked to go investigate the suspicious-looking package on the side of the road. If you know one of those guys, make sure you send HIM a few decks of cards, magazines, books, . . . anything to make it seem more like home.

7. Keep blogging. I have only met a few of you (alcanthang, drizz, Will Wheaton, DrPauly), but I know how much entertainment value you provide to DrChako, and how he lives vicariously through your escapades when he can't be there in Vegas with you. Keep giving him a little piece of your abnormal "normality"!

Now I'm sure I've got some accounting to do . . . so thanks for your kind words on my husband's behalf, and may your aces in the hole always hold up on the river!

Respectfully submitted,

The Wife

Daniel’s Broiler!

30 AUG 07

I really hadn’t intended on posting another blog until I got to Iraq, but this is way too cool. To celebrate my last good meal, my wife and I decided to go to our favorite restaurant in Washington – Daniel’s Broiler. It sits on the southern tip of Lake Union and has incredible views of enormous boats and beautiful homes. The food is always outstanding and their wine selection can’t be beat. I had a Red Diamond Cabernet and my wife had an Argentinean wine called a Malbeck (Malback?). It reminder her of a cab without the oak and it left a slight aftertaste that hinted of candy. Amazing.

Before the meal we sat at the bar. I had a Manhattan and my wife had a fruity drink with cranberry, pineapple and vanilla vodka. The piano player was out of this world. I requested Scenes from an Italian Restaurant and he knocked it out of the park.

The meal. Wow. Filet and lobster tail with asparagus and mushrooms. The mashed potatoes by themselves were worth the trip. Then came the first surprise – champagne and strawberries dipped in chocolate. We didn’t request desert, but it was really nice. I told them when I made the reservation that is was a special night.

Surprise #2 blew me away. We met with the manager, who knew that this was where I chose to have my last meal before leaving for Iraq. He thanked me for my service to our country in words and deeds.

“On the house.”

What?

That’s right – the whole thing was free. It was his way of thanking me and I was speechless. We overtipped our waiter, the piano player and the valet, of course. I just want to say a hearty THANK YOU to the folks at Daniel’s Broiler. Go there if you are ever in town.

I Wonder if He Left Already?

29 AUG 07

Nope folks, I’m still here. Sorry for the lack of posting, but it turns out there is a lot to do before you go to Iraq. I got all my shots this week. The Anthrax shot hurts like a bitch. There are actually 5 more Anthrax shots in my near future, too.

I updated my Will and completed 8 different general and special Powers of Attorney for my wife and family. I checked my glasses (it will be weird not wearing contacts – strictly verboten), and made sure I have special glasses that go into my gas mask, should the need arise.

This was strange. I had to fill out a form that gives someone information on my background like where I went to high school and what the mascot was. This presumably makes it easier to locate me if I’m captured. I even needed to come up with a “stress word.” I use it if I’m captured and unable to tell someone I’m under duress. I’m supposed to work it into casual conversation. It feels very James Bond. I have very strong doubts that the people who are attempting to free me will know where to find this information.

Now comes the hard part. My family is taking me to the airport in Seattle Friday morning. Goodbyes are tough. Thank goodness for my new webcam!

Happy Birthday, Son!

Sorry for the lack of posting. Things have been busy as I prepare to depart for Iraq. My son turned 10 today (Harry Chapin anyone?). When asked what he was getting for his birthday, he replied, “A Brazilian.”

Meet our new Brazilian Au Pair, Tatiane.



Happy birthday, son. I will think of this great day a lot when I’m “downrange.”

Who Are the People in Your Neighborhood?

16 AUG 07

I grew up with Mr. Rogers, and I can still hear him singing this ditty. I was singing it tonight in the casino as I waited to hear if my name was drawn for the $5000 per hour give away to frequent poker players (I wasn’t called). Here are the people in my neighborhood (the Muckleshoot casino).

Thousand Mile Stare

This guy was about 50, black and had an unlit cigarette jutting straight out from his lips. He was just coming into the casino as I was leaving and it was obvious that the lights and sounds triggered the correct Pavlovian response in his brain. He was home.

The Crying Lady

This was a white female with big hair in her mid-50s. What struck was that she was crying while coming INTO the casino from the parking lot. Away demons!

Hot Crossed Buns

This was the 20-something who was railbirding her boyfriend for the last 3 hours. She finally thought they were done, but as her tattooed honey was reaching for his 5th re-buy, she stormed out of the poker room. Play halted at every table she passed so the players could stare at her gloriousness. Remember guys, no matter how hot she is, someone, somewhere thinks she’s a bitch.

Dapper Floor Dude

Okay. This one was Ryan in his new role as floor walker. It’s actually a pay cut from dealing, but if that’s the price you pay to become a full-time dealer, so be it. I’m still waiting on some killer blog posts about your new role. Any good fights?

Generally Nice People

In a poker room? Is this possible? Actually, it is. Most dealers and many players know me and my story quite well. Tonight as I talked with Peter, Ryan, Heather (she’ll always be “Triple-H” to me), Mary, Dave and Judy I realized that good people are everywhere. They all wished me good luck and a safe return from Iraq.

Here’s hoping their wishes come true.

Fill in your Own Bad Beat Ending

12 Aug 07

First off, my last day of work was Friday. They put together a really nice pot luck and a lot of people said some really nice things about me. I was pretty overwhelmed. I didn’t get choked up like I’ve seen others do, but I did feel the gravity of the event.

I hope to continue blogging as I prepare to deploy to Iraq, and even when I get there. For now, I leave you with a cleverly disguised bad beat story.

I’m playing a $20 buy-in tournament. There are 45 players and it’s first round action. Two seats to my right is a young maniac who keeps saying, “It’s only $20. I’m all in.” He has been called three times and has shown 8 4, J 2 and the hammer (7 2 off suit)! He’s won all three.

Rather than go all in pre-flop, he chooses to call. I look down at pocket 5s and call as well. There is 300 in the pot. I have 800 behind. The flop is Q Q 4. He checks, I bet ½ the pot. He goes all in. I call, putting him on either nothing or the 4. Turns out it was nothing.

He turns over K 3 for king-high.

How did I get knocked out? I’ll tell you he didn’t spike a king or get running 3s.

HOPS and Hops and Closing Shop

10 AUG 07

I apologize for the title of this post. It made sense to me. Let’s see if I can make it make sense to you.

I was driving into work this morning and the announcer on NPR said there was a story coming up about how most hops in America originated in the Northwest. My military mind immediately thought of Air Force hops that take government personnel around the world at a discounted rate. When I found out the story was actually about beer, I laughed out loud.

You see, that’s how my mind is programmed. I’ve been in the military for almost 21 years. I don’t really even remember life “on the outside.”

That’s why today is so interesting and emotional. Today is my last day of work at Madigan Army Medical Center in Tacoma, Washington. I’m taking a couple days off before I start outprocessing (another military term) in preparation to go to Baghdad. As I’ve noted before, as soon as I get back from Iraq, I’ll begin outprocessing again – this time to get out of the Army for good.

I wonder how I’ll feel at this time next year when I’m no longer in the Army.

Penn and Teller Prove the Existence of Sheep

8 AUG 07

Watch this video. I totally would have signed. Not because I don’t know what the substance is (I AM a physician after all), but the petitioner is totally hot.

For my RSS readers, here is the link:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=yi3erdgVVTw

Editors Note: It's a sad day folks. That lying cheat Barry Bonds broke the home run record. This is just one more reason why I am boycotting Major League Baseball. The world is looking at us, folks.

"Cheat to win." That's the message.

Poker Content!

3 AUG 07

An actual hand history. I’m pretty sure you won’t see this one on other blogs.

It’s 15/30 and an extremely loose table. 5 and 6 way action is the norm. The pattern is an early raise and multiple callers.

UTG, you look down at As-Jc. Not a great hand, so I can certainly understand the argument to throw this away, especially at this table. Figuring it’s the best hand, you raise to $30.

But wait! You totally forgot that this is a kill-pot. This next hand is 30/60, so all you did was call. Moron.

Now the table kicks into high gear. You get re-raised by a tight player and capped by the loosest player at the table. 3 more callers (all calling $240 cold!), and it gets back to you. You have to call three more bets here to see a flop ($180).

What do you do?

Follow up. The flop is 4c-4s-5c. What do you do now?

Minnesota Bridge Collapse

2 AUG 07

I’ve driven over this bridge a few times and never gave it a second thought.

My thoughts are with the unfortunate drivers now.

Thanks to conphoto for the great shots.