Three years ago, today....

I was attending AIT at Fort Sam Houston, actively training to be a combat medic (68W) in the army. In the days before, I was doing litter carries and TCCC (Tactical Combat Casualty Care), 12-hour days in the San Antonio, Texas heat, submerging our arms in ice water every hour just to stay cool. It was brutal and exhausting, but I loved it. During litter carries, due to my height and weight, I got sorted into the heaviest group, 4 men weighing 180lbs and above. It went great until the last iteration when I felt something in my shoulder “pull” … At first it was fine, mild discomfort, mostly it felt like a pulled muscle which I have had many of in the past, so I thought nothing of it that day and I continued training, 

The next day when I woke up, I knew it was something worse than a pulled muscle, I could barely move my arm. I tried to hide it, because I had already been held back in training due to the broken foot I suffered the last week of BCT, 12 mile rucks are no joke on a broken foot, but there are horror stories of people being stuck in med hold for months after sustaining injuries in training, so I toughed it out, which was not the right call looking back. I went to the hospital the day after arriving at AIT, I was in a cast for 6 weeks, and an air boot for another 4 after that. I was able to complete the EMT portion, the next step was whiskey phase and i was in no shape for it, so I was sent home for a month to heal. It was bittersweet to come home knowing I had to fly back down to Texas in a month to continue training. When I came back, I watched my buddies from BCT go on to graduate AIT without me, I was recycled into another company to graduate at a much later date. When I went to formation the day after injuring my shoulder, I was determined to tough it out through the remaining 7 weeks of training, but it's hard to hide a messed-up arm when you can't stand in formation at parade rest like you’re supposed to… They noticed immediately and sent me to get it looked at, I was put in a sling and told I couldn't train for a few days, instead I was sent back to class to watch from the sidelines again before being pulled from training altogether when there was no improvement.

For a couple of days, things were boring. Wake up - formation - march to chow and back three times a day - go to appointments for my shoulder in between - evening formation - sleep - repeat. I did notice that I had some mild back pain, but I figured it was probably because I pulled something in there too. The doctors did x-rays on my shoulder, told me to stretch more, and make sure I'm drinking enough water (typical military health care), but they couldn't figure out what was wrong with my shoulder exactly. It was maddening to know there was something more going on and have no one trying to figure it out. I was at sick call every day, trying to get answers, trying to get fixed so I could graduate and go home. 

On September 20th, the mild back pain I was experiencing had turned into the feeling of a knife in my spinal cord. I had some weakness and pain in my stomach muscles. I returned to sick call again that morning after formation. The one positive to going to sick call first thing in the morning is the lack of drill sergeants, it was around 0530, I was sitting on the concrete sidewalk waiting for the place to open in an hour, I decided to lie down and rest until then as many of us would do, it was the only thing that eased the pain in my back. Finally, they opened and called my name. I tried to sit up and was stuck on my back, like a turtle. My abdomen muscles had nearly stopped working altogether, I struggled and struggled until one of the guys from my company offered me a hand and hoisted me onto my feet. I was scared, I knew something was wrong at that moment, it felt like my entire body was failing. This appointment was another dead end, again, despite having no use of my arm, the severe back pain, and weakness in most of my body, they told me that it was probably fatigue and sent me on my way. 

The rest of the day was miserable; I couldn't do much other than waste away in the day room with the others on med hold. We sat in that quiet room for hours, I was in pain the whole time, I couldn't sit or stand comfortably, it hurt to exist. I tried talking to my drill sergeants about it, they didn't care much, they tend to assume everyone is lying about an injury because some people do so to get out of training, they didn't realize how much I loved training. At the end of the day, I was happy to get in bed and lay down for the night because lying down was the only relief from the pain.

On September 21st, at 0200 things got much worse… I had a fireguard, which meant I had to sit in the main corridor and document anyone who came onto our floor, which was usually drill sergeants making sure no one was out of their rooms. I struggled to get out of bed, and again to get up off the toilet before stumbling down to where my battle buddy was sitting. I sat down and we chatted about training and such, she had been my partner for most of the hands-on training, so we would talk over stuff we learned any chance we got. A half hour into our shift the elevator dinged, and a drill sergeant stepped out, the proper way to address them is calling “At ease” and standing at parade rest until you're told to carry on... We called it, but as I attempted to stand… nothing… I tried again, and again. It was as if I was glued to the chair. I couldn't stand up no matter how hard I tried. This didn't sit well with this drill sergeant; he yelled and called me a liar; said I was pretending to be hurt out of disrespect for him when I explained to him what I was experiencing. He yelled as I struggled and tried to stand, I was crying out of frustration because my body wouldn't work. He eventually got fed up and left. I continued trying to get up, my battle buddy tried to help without success. I can't accurately describe the fear I felt that night, and the frustration that nobody believed me. I still think about this night a lot, and I have nightmares about it frequently.

I was finally able to stand up using the foosball table for support, reaching for the farthest bar I could reach with my one working arm, and pulling myself up through the pain. At this point my shift was ending, and my friend whom I had bonded with quickly because we're from the same state, woke up for her shift and came to check on me. I was still standing by the table, holding on for dear life because I couldn't stand well on my own. I explained everything to her, and she went to tell our drill sergeant about it. I don't know what was said, but when she came back, she told me that he said to “take some Tylenol and go back to sleep” and that I could go to sick call in the morning… so, I did, because I couldn't really do much else. I struggled to walk back down the hallway to my room, leaning on the wall for support the whole way. I remember climbing into bed and half expecting to die in my sleep from whatever this was. 

When I woke up for formation, I couldn't get out of bed, I could barely move, I tried several times, managed to almost get to my feet once and my legs buckled. My roommate saw my struggle but didn't say much before leaving me to lay there so she could attend formation. It was about 45 minutes before anyone came back up to check on me. They helped me out of bed; I could still walk at this point with their help. We went down to the office, and I demanded they take me to BAMC (the hospital); they argued that it wasn't severe enough for the hospital, told me they’d just take me to sick call, I stood my ground. They eventually took me to the hospital. When I tried getting into the vehicle, it felt like I was climbing mount Everest. i made several attempts on my own, failing each time, before someone had to help me.

The hospital admitted me immediately and told me I should have come sooner. The pain was unbearable at this point, it felt like millions of needles inside every nerve on my body, and it was constant. I don't recall much from the first week in the hospital, between the stress and the oxy they put me on, but I know they ran every test they could think of, I had dozens of MRIs and X-rays. It was hell getting out of bed to use the restroom, I had to be supervised the whole time in case I fell, each time it got harder to make the 20ft walk. I was paralyzed after three days in the hospital. I completely lost the use of my left arm and both legs in the short span of time. I can remember laying in the hospital bed, looking down at where my legs were and realizing that I couldn't feel or move them.

Continued in "life in the hospital"...